Chapter Text
We start, exactly where we left off, but, a few hours later.
Merlin stumbled his way all the way to his quarters that night.
After the soft kiss with Arthur, the two had fallen silent and everything and nothing had changed between them. Arthur dismissed him earlier than normal, after a few too many shared drinks and looks, and now all that was running through his head was ways that this could all go wrong.
Merlin didn’t understand much on the topic of love. Or rather, he understood plenty, but never when it came to him. He knew his parents loved each other dearly, he knew that they shared kisses and such things that children should never think about their parents. He knew that love like this wasn’t always something you choose, nor was it something that was always rational, or reciprocated. And damn it all, now he knew that the King had been correct, and isn’t that just the worst?
So when Merlin stumbled to his bed and collapsed that night, all he could think of was ways that this could end terribly and beautifully.
Which, as destiny is bound to do, came to a head a few weeks later, in the form of a treaty.
Not just any treaty either.
Noooo, because that would be too easy for Merlin.
Uther, the butcher King of Camelot, had decided to reach out to his worst enemy, his old bloody friend who he had betrayed in the most horrible way, and thought that that would be the best idea ever.
As one does, no?
When Arthur had told him he was leaving for Gwynedd, Merlin felt his stomach drop. And it did so even further when he asked about it.
“So, when do we leave?” He asked, fiddling with a spare spoon that he had used during lunch with Arthur (and Arthur kept inviting him to eat lunch with him now and wasn't that just bizarre?).
Arthur dropped his eyes and didn’t look at him, “We leave in three days. You, however, will be staying in Camelot.”
Merlin laughed for a second, “Right, so what shall I pack?” He swallowed his nervousness, as there was no way Arthur was heading to his Kingdom without him.
“No, Merlin, King Balinor doesn’t trust us nearly enough. He’s only letting three of us go. Me, as a voice to my Father, Leon, as first knight, and Lancelot, my own choice between the knights. You can’t come with us.” He punctuated the end with a soft hand grabbing onto Merlin’s own.
Merlin wanted to protest, but instead hung his head. After all, it had been almost three years since he had last seen his father, and Merlin knew it wouldn’t do to show up as Prince Arthur’s manservant. That… would be disastrous. “Right, okay. Sure. That means my duties are reduced. That’s… nice.” He managed to say with a frown.
“Considering how often you try to get out of your chores, I’d think you’d be more happy about it.” Arthur rolled his eyes, his hand raising to caress Merlin’s cheek.
“There’s a difference between slacking off and not having anything assigned.” Merlin pouted.
Arthur laughed and pulled back his hand, “Well, if that’s the case, you could always go home.”
Merlin’s brain stopped, “Erm… what?”
“To see your parents? You’ve not gone since you’ve been employed here.” Arthur shrugged, “Besides, I’m sure Gwaine can manage with Gaius. Go home, get some rest with your family, and we’ll meet back here in a few weeks once I return.”
Merlin bit the inside of his cheek, for Arthur really didn’t know what he was asking, which felt almost like a bubble of hysterical laughter growing in Merlin's gut. “Right. Maybe. Sure.” He nodded with feigned seriousness, “Do… Anything interesting to know about Gwynedd? Or, do you need me to go to Geoffrey to find you some books, since I’m not going with you?”
Arthur waved off the suggestion, “The King has given me some things to look over. Apparently, he’s been working on this for a few years now. Though, that’s news to me considering Gwynedd is not secretive about their magic use.”
Merlin wrinkled his nose, “A few years? What’s he think, Balinor is just going to roll over and let magic be pushed out of his Kingdom? That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“I doubt our King thinks that. He and King Balinor used to be friends according to him. Maybe he’s just hoping to fix those broken bonds before I take over as King?” Arthur offered, though it sounded like a weak argument to Merlin, “Besides, it would be better for Camelot to have them, if not on-side in an alliance, at least neutral towards Camelot. I’ve been reading accounts of Dragonlords going to war, mostly from Camelot’s own lords in the past, and the destruction they were able to unleash upon their enemies is undeniably massive. Entire armies consumed by flame, kingdoms losing every last grain to fire, lands scorched so black nothing could take root for decades. To have Gwynedd’s ire against us if such a thing were to occur…” Arthur trailed off with a frown, “I cannot bring such a thing upon Camelot, and I’ll do anything to protect my people.”
Yeah, Arthur was really the one meant to be a King between the two of them. Merlin couldn’t even protect his people most of the time. “Good. It would make a strong alliance.” Merlin offered.
Arthur wrinkled his nose, “I think my father was expecting a marriage with Morgana and Prince Myrddin. A marriage alliance with his ward and Balinor’s son. But, with Morgana missing…” Arthur trailed off and sighed.
Merlin tried not to choke on his breathing. Was that what his parents had been talking about in the courtyard? “Morgana doesn’t seem like the type to marry just ‘anyone’ the King want’s her to. Besides, think of this as an opportunity to show how good you and your knights can be for an alliance. You’re strong, strategic, and plenty of other things that make a good King.”
Arthur hummed, “All I can hope is that King Balinor sees it the same. I’m certain he isn’t pleased with Camelot as it stands. Well, I mean, who would be? His people have been hunted.”
“And you’ve helped.” Merlin said quietly.
Arthur dropped his head in shame with eyes closed, “I’ve burnt entire encampments in my youth. I would understand if King Balinor sent my head back to my father rather than actually talk about this treaty.”
Merlin’s throat involuntarily made a distressed sound, “No, that’s not what I meant, Arthur. You’ve helped people get out of Camelot. The druid boy... James… Uh, others…” He trailed off as he stood and moved to Arthur's side, lifting his head to look at him, “Hey, you’re not a monster, nor are you your father. You are your own man, and the mistakes of your past are not what your future will be. You’ve noticed the mistakes, and have changed them. Or will when you are able to.”
Arthur stared up at him with hopeful eyes, “I could kiss you right now.”
Merlin grinned and ruffled the other’s hair, “And you are very welcome to do so.” But instead of waiting for a kiss, he stood up and stepped back, letting Arthur’s soft eyes follow him about the room, “But at the moment, I need to get this to Madame Cerys and Audrey before she smacks me for being late with dishes.”
Line Break
Arthur had been dreading leaving, ever since his father had pulled him aside and told him explicitly. You are to go to Gwynedd to work out this treaty without mucking it up. And normally he would scoff and follow the order and bring Merlin along as usual. Except, his father had continued. That manservant of yours will remain behind, I expressly forbid he go with you. Balinor is a harsh man and he does not suffer fools like the boy. And as much as Arthur wished to defend Merlin, he knew that the stumbling and the talking wouldn’t be taken well if his father were correct.
So as much as he hated it, it was for Merlin’s protection. As long as his, ahem, friend didn’t get himself executed while Arthur was away, it would be fine.
What he didn't account for was Merlin ignoring this attempt at protection blatantly.
Which, in all honesty, should have come to mind, because it was Merlin.
The second night away from Camelot, Arthur found Merlin not far from their campsite and felt like pulling out his hair. "What are you doing here?" He hissed, "I told you to stay in Camelot." Arthur scowled as he approached his friend, and perhaps lover.
Merlin shrugged, "And you also said I could go home if I so chose, since it'll be a few weeks for you to do all your," he waved a dismissive hand in the air, "Meeting stuffs, so I decided to go home."
Arthur scowled further, "Merlin, your family lives in Essetir."
Merlin stared at him for a long moment, as if not understanding something, "I… guess I'm taking the scenic route, then?"
Arthur reached a tired hand to his face, "Go back to Camelot before I take you back myself and have you locked in a cell." It was a weak threat, and they both knew it.
"And delay the meeting with Gwynedd? I doubt King Balinor would appreciate being left waiting." Merlin raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
"Exactly. That is precisely why I am telling you to go home, so I don't have to pull you there by your bloody ears."
Merlin's mouth fell open, and his hands moved to cover his ears as he glared, "You wouldn't dare."
Arthur lifted a threatening finger, "Try me, little bird."
Merlin glared as he followed Arthur back to the camp, settling down against Leon with the continuous glare. Lancelot had watched it unravel between the Prince and his servant and tried not to laugh at it all, much to Arthur's disappointment. Leon, on the other hand, was very happy to have Merlin curl up next to him. The man appeared like an angry kitten at the moment, and the knight's gentle hand carding through the younger's hair was calming him.
Arthur tried not to pay attention as he hunkered down in his sleeping roll, ignoring what the other two knights thought about it.
The next morning, Merlin was already gone. And Arthur hoped that he had gone back to Camelot, rather than forwards towards Gwynedd.
The week’s journey took the three knights through a few outer villages, those that Arthur rarely visited due to the location. Most patrols in the area were taken by new recruits, and by their reception to Lancelot more than Arthur, it was kind of evident.
Greeting the court was easy.
It was, afterall, a small delegation Arthur had with him. Nothing fancy. So, greeting King Balinor and his Queen with a bow meant for allies got him a smile in return.
Good.
Arthur would hate to have caused insult. And after the servants brought up their meager belongings to separate chambers near one another. Leon looked to Arthur with a questioning glance before disappearing into his room.
The servants were wonderful and Arthur couldn’t help in comparing them to Merlin. And yet, in their perfection, he found them lacking. They bowed and they obeyed and they barely spoke and, yes, he was a guest, but he wanted one of them to snipe at him. Or, maybe he wanted Merlin here to do it. Nevertheless, he let them set out some dress clothes and disappeared until dinner in the great hall.
And if he wasn’t the Prince of a foreign nation, he might just have pleaded ill and stayed in his room. He was not happy being away from Merlin, despite the direct order. But, he didn’t want to insult the King, nor his kingdom. Nor did he want to give off false beliefs.
What would it say? The Prince of Camelot skipping out on the first meal with a Kingdom of Magic and blatantly supporting his father’s belief?
Yeah, no.
He was going.
He was definitely going.
He didn’t want to, but he was.
And armed with Leon and Lancelot at his either side, they were led down and welcomed like welcomed guests rather than potential enemies. Which was… strange considering how his Father had betrayed King Balinor in the past, but Arthur knew to also look beneath what was presented to what was actually there.
The hall was laid out wonderfully. The table had a large display, lined with silver, with twisting oak branches and what looked like feathers strung out with violets and other sweet flowers lining the branches. There was also hare, stag, chicken and veal dishes strewn across the table and in abundance, some with ingredients Arthur had never seen before. He knew Camelot’s trade was not what it could be, Uther refusing to associate with many kingdoms outside of Albion due to their magical practice or views. But, what laid in front of him was nearly exotic.
Then he looked across the table and met Morgana’s eyes.
Oh gods, he just inhaled a bit of the veal from his fork.
Arthur coughed as he tried to clear his throat before washing it down with some ale as the Queen, sitting next to Morgana, leaned over to whisper to her. That, at least, would explain why no one has looked at him strangely. But, what was Morgana even doing here?
Out of all of Albion, he hadn’t expected her to be here.
He surreptitiously nudged Leon, who was sitting on his left and was promptly ignored by his knight in favour of him talking across at another knight.
Really?
Where was Leon’s loyalty here?
To him or the large knight whose armour barely fit his size. No, really, he was wearing short sleeves on his mail, what the hell was that? That’s not protective in the least.
At least Lancelot, a few seats away, seemed to have been swept up by other knights and a Lord next to him patting his shoulder consolingly as he too seemed to have swallowed something the wrong way.
Then, Arthur himself was wrapped into conversation with the King’s brother who sat at the corner, to Arthur’s right. “How are you finding Gwynedd, Prince Arthur of Camelot."
Arthur inclined his head, “The kingdom appears prosperous and my knights and I have been treated much more generously than I had anticipated. Given the history with my father, that is.”
The man hummed, “You aren’t your father and won’t make his mistakes. Where he makes enemies, you see friends. Kilian Ambrosius,” He stuck out a hand for Arthur to shake and he returned it gladly.
“I hope to lead Camelot in a time of peace, where none of my subjects will be hunted down like beasts. That doesn’t make me a good King, it just makes me a sane one.”
Kilian appraised him, and while Arthur didn’t know what he saw, the man nodded. “That’s a good thing to know, Pendragon. Especially when your biggest struggle to taking the throne will be rewriting your father’s propaganda. Camelot has been spoon-fed lies for two decades, and some of your nobility has benefitted from the removal of their magical brethren in the council.”
Arthur nodded, “Are you the advisor brother, or the knight brother?” His father had mentioned that out of the King's two brothers, one acted in the capacity of First Knight, who trained all the other knights, and the other as Head Advisor, who took the throne when needed. Kilian had roguish looks that didn’t seem suited for a knight, but even less suited for an advisor. He was also very much unsuited for formal court, considering his shirt was rather low cut and the amount of stained leather he wore screamed ‘tavern brawl’ rather than ‘court scuffle’, something Arthur had come to almost expect whenever he crossed paths with Gwaine both in the castle and on the training grounds.
With black, short hair that hung clumsily over a tense face with a scar where a sword had marred his right cheek, running towards the tip of his nose, Kilian stood apart from his brothers not only in stature but in intensity. His dark eyes watched the court as if enemies hid behind every man and woman in the room, giving no space for allies. Except, his words were kind, and his posture relaxed, and Arthur couldn’t help but feel safe, despite being the son of Uther Pendragon.
Kilian laughed, “Knight. Trained up most of this lot,” He gestured to the guards around the room, “Youngest brother of this fool.” He nodded his head to the right towards Balinor.
Arthur choked on his wine slightly, “You… really don’t care for the pleasantries of court, do you?”
“Eh? What gave it away? The fact that I don’t give a shit anymore about what Balinor thinks about me breaking codes or maybe it really was the whole,” He waved his hand down in front of himself, “Thing I have going here?”
“I think it was the insulting of the King, but I may be used to that back home from my own friends to be sure.” Arthur dryly commented.
He fell into easy banter with the Knight, his mannerisms were similar to Merlin’s which was a comfort. The way his eyes focus when a Lord says something to catch his attention, or how he straightens defensively at any perceived niceties being sent his way. How he was uncertain but also steadyfast in his position at court.
The dinner went well, with Arthur being introduced to many of the nobility, like the Prince’s wives and the knights that were deemed ‘suitable’ according to Kilian’s mutterings. He couldn’t fault Gwynedd for it, he was, after all, a Pendragon. But after the nobles, and it felt like a sudden test, he was greeted by many druids and priests through the night.
There weren’t many who stuck out, but Lancelot’s kin, Lord Bowell and his wife, greeted him courteously and a few of the priests stuck in his mind. Especially the bald man with the scary staff that looked like he wanted to punch half the people around him and yet, also go have a nap. Though, maybe that was just a ‘Catha’ thing, he hadn’t exactly heard of them before in Camelot.
Three days into the treaty talks, Arthur was walking through the castle when a large open room caught his attention.
Now, King Balinor had not barred him from any unlocked rooms, but hadn’t quite given him a tour either. He poked his head into the portrait hall and glanced around to see if anyone was about. Seeing no one, he entered cautiously.
In Camelot the portrait hall was locked, and when it wasn’t, most portraits had curtains over them to obscure their visage only leaving a very select few to be seen by the visiting nobility. But it was one of the few ways Arthur knew what his mother looked like, even if his father had screamed and sent him to the cells after he found her. It had been painful at the time, knowing she was close but so far.
Of course, Arthur had snuck down many times after that initial visit over the years to his Father’s unacknowledgement.
But in Gwynedd, there were no guards, no locked doors, and no portraits covered in shame or guilt. Though, they did seem to almost shine in the light of the sun, as if something blocking the sunlight from actually biting into the layer of paint.
It was a welcome difference, like so many others.
He walked through the room, more confident now with the security that no one was watching. He looked up at the hanging portraits of what must have been the ancestors of the Kingdom, some were clearly daughters who married outward clans and others sons who brought in land with the wives they married. But the most recent, the three sons of King Alfred standing in a line with their father, two other portraits with two vastly different women on King Alfred's arm, and as his eyes moved further, the wives of Sceledrus and Kilian supposedly, and then their children. Most looked like the people he had met over the last few days, like the current Queen Hunith's portrait at the left side of her Husbands portrait. And all of them he could understand, with a few small changes here and there, and place names to younger faces that he had recently met.
All but one.
Set to the right the Queen’s portrait, was a boy, maybe 13, with black scraggly short hair that looked to have been attempted to be flattened and absolutely refused to be, and the most piercing blue eyes that Arthur had seen on a portrait.
Rather, the most piercing eyes that Arthur had seen outside of one very quiet-about-his-childhood manservant. It was just this side of uncanny that he couldn’t be certain. After all, despite portraits being very good at capturing the likeness of others, they weren’t all too accurate and often embellished.
And wasn’t Merlin from Essetir?
“That’s Prince Myrddin Ambrosius. The only child of Balinor and Hunith.” Morgana said, walking up to him. He hadn’t heard her enter the room, but Morgana was good at sneaking about.
“Morgana,” Arthur inclined his head, “He looks familiar.”
“You’ll need to do better than that to get information from me, Arthur.” She rolled her eyes.
He didn’t blush, and if his ears were slightly red, it’s from the alcohol that’s been provided and its lingering potency. “I’m glad to see you hale and hearty.”
“And I’m glad to see you, but it’s a shame Merlin couldn’t make it. What was it? A sickness in the lower town?” She asked lightly. They hadn't had much chance to speak, and whenever he had seen her, she had been either with the Queen, or with Lancelot. Which made sense, considering how close Lancelot had become to her maid.
Arthur frowned, “No? Uther said that King Balinor was only allowing three Knights into Gwynedd on the behalf of Camelot. And he didn’t want Merlin… Merlin-ing up any peace talks.”
Morgana rolled her eyes, “No, Uther knows you rely on him too much. He probably made the separation up for you to learn how to not be dependent.”
Arthur wanted to point out how independent he was and all the times he wasn’t with Merlin… except… Merlin was almost constantly at his side. And when he wasn’t, he was near enough that a shout would have him there.
Oh gods above, did his Father know about their relationship? Or worse, the Magic? Arthur straightened at the thought. At the mere idea of Merlin being left alone with his father and in danger Arthur's mind began frazzeling.
Panic of a sort must have shown on his face because Morgana pulled him away from the portraits and into the hall.
Despite the years they had known eachother, and with Leon and Lancelot off watching Kilian run practices and possibly picking up some tips (Lord Bowell he had noticed spending much time with Lancelot, hopefully whatever rifts there were could be fixed within the family—that could only help with peace talks, right?), Arthur fell into an awkward silence as they walked. Normally he wouldn’t be bothered, but it felt like the world was slowly turning on its head once again.
Thanks Merlin.
Morgana linked their arms and pulled him down the hall with an easy nod to the servants. “It’s safe to talk, you know. I can practically hear your thoughts.”
Arthur raised a panicked hand to his head as if she actually could. He would not doubt her ability, the glow of her magic had grown stronger away from Camelot. Arthur cautiously nodded, before sighing, “Is Prince Myrddin who I think it is? Or are the similarities just my imagination?”
“I wondered that too when I showed up with Kilgharrah. And Queen Hunith was quick to explain what she knew.” Morgana nodded to a few more of the servants as they passed, “Prince Myrddin is his formal name. Used only by the council and his father. To most of the staff and his sister, and cousins… They called him their little bird, because he was the youngest around and always flying about the Castle with unbounded energy. But Hunith has been calling him Merlin since the day he was born. Probably due to the Essetirian influence in her life.”
Arthur nodded as the pain of… Betrayal? Mistrust? Whatever it was felt like something burning inside his throat, “And, how has the Kingdom been since you’ve been here?” And, by the goddess, who was Kilgharrah? He needed a distraction, he needed her words to flow over him and direct his attention elsewhere.
“When I first arrived in Gwynedd I was shocked at how open magic was. It’s beautiful. And the people are happy, Arthur. Any bandits showing up are swiftly taken care of, and not always with a blade. King Balinor has a system in place. If villages are needing, he can provide aid so no one needs to turn to banditry. It’s… I don’t know if there are words.”
Arthur tightened his fist as she led him through the halls, bringing him to her quarters. He turned his head slightly, “Uther is weary of dark magic. But, in the days travelling to this castle, all I saw were men and women living their best lives, greeting us happily… If weary.”
“You’re a Pendragon. Uther’s son.” She shrugged, pushing him down on her bench next to the window and with an exaggerated flourish pushed open the window with her magic. Arthur didn’t flinch and she smiled. Was it a test? “I spent the last few months learning control of my own Magic. There’s a temple further north, the air is…” She shook her head, “You can smell the magic of the area. It’s like a warm hug holding onto you, pulsing with possibility and life.”
“And that’s something you could never have in Camelot.” Arthur gave her a smile.
“Yes, and you’re taking my magic very well, Arthur.” There was a note of suspicion hiding in her words and he shrugged.
“Let’s just say it’s not the most surprising thing that I’ve seen,” He shrugged, bumping his arm into hers, “Besides, even if I did know in Camelot, I wouldn’t have said anything. Under his rule? I wouldn’t let that happen, not to my sister.”
She blinked at him, which was a wonderful feeling in Arthur’s chest for, for once, he had shocked her, “I’m not your sister, Arthur.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, “Yes, you are. We grew up together. We may not share blood, or the same name, but you are my sister. And nothing, not even magic, can change that. You’re family.”
She lowered her head, but he could see her smiling, “Uther wouldn’t see it that way. I’d burn quicker than you could say ‘witch’.”
“Best you stay here then, where it’s safe. At least until he’s dead and gone, then you can come home.” Arthur said quietly, his gaze steady.
Morgana nodded, “It’s peaceful here. The King and Queen are wonderful. Nothing like how Uther portrayed them to be.”
He tried to not flinch at it. His King might have been working on a treaty with the Kingdom, but it hadn’t stopped him from insulting their use of magic and their insufferability. And, knowing Merlin, he could almost understand that sentiment.
“Well, what would you expect from Merlin’s family?” Arthur joked, the slight sting of betrayal pricking at his heart.
Morgana eyes him, then grasps his hand in hers, “I think he didn’t tell you because he feared being sent away, Arthur. Not because he didn’t trust you.”
“But he told you?” Arthur scoffed.
“No. He told me he was sending me somewhere safe. He sent me here to learn and control my magic away from Camelot. He told me then that this King would take me in happily, not that he told me who they were. It was never about deceiving anyone.”
“Discovering someone you had known for a long time is keeping a secret is… strange. I knew he was hiding something, but not exactly what. The feeling of prying is there, but… I didn’t want to destoy the trust we had built.” Arthur muttered bitterly.
“Oh ho?” Morgana asked as her eyes lit with excitement, “Do tell, brother.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, “My Father was hoping for a betrothal between Prince Myrddin and you, sister. I don’t know if Merlin knew. Maybe that’s why he kept bringing you flowers in the beginning? But, for a while now, we’ve been. Er…”
“Closet buddies?” She offered, wiggling her eyebrows before laughing at Arthur’s blush.
“Shut up.” He muttered, ducking his head, “But yes. Gods above, Morgana, he’s wonderful. I… He… Damn it. We’re taking it slow, I mean… We’ve only shared a few kisses. But, gods, if I don’t yearn for more. And I’m scared of messing that up.” He paused and looked out the window, “And this isn’t going to help that, is it?”
Morgana sighed as she slumped against him, “Honestly? Knowing his past doesn’t change anything. He’s still Merlin, is he not? He’s the same man as the one you’ve fallen in love with. So what if he has secrets? Don’t we all?”
Arthur hummed in agreement, “But I used to think he came to Camelot for a better life. To get away from poverty and whatnot. A peasant’s life. But he had all this. He has all this. He is the heir of a Kingdom, Morgana. What’s he doing acting as a manservant?”
Morgana hummed, but smiled, “You know one of the first things the King told me?” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice in a mock attempt to copy Balinor’s own, “ My Lady, you’ll find that with the exception of an honest day’s work, there is no challenge my son is not prepared to face. Even in the heart of Camelot.” She laughed at her own memory, “I was concerned with him staying there, after I realised just who he was. But Balinor hadn’t that fear. And he claimed Merlin was like him in that way. Or like his uncle, Kilian.”
“I… don’t think I see your point.”
“He’s doing it for you. He’s your manservant, your friend, Arthur, yes. But if he didn’t want to, he’d leave. It’s evident he’d done so before. And, even in the position of manservant, there’s plenty he doesn’t do. He knows where his power is, even if you didn’t. He knows what he’s doing and he’s choosing to be at your side. Choosing you, over an entire kingdom and a half, Arthur. So do get that through your thick skull before you ride for home.”
Arthur sat in silence as he mulled over her words, “I know where his power is. Ever since meeting him, I’ve known. Not that I’d ever say that to him, of course. Man would probably panic and blast me across a clearing. I’m Uther’s son after all… But…” He shook his head, “Even knowing it, I never doubted him. Never had the thought cross my mind. He’s Merlin, you know?”
Morgana nodded in understanding, “He’s Merlin and you trust him implicitly. Like I trust Gwen.”
Arthur turned his head slightly to meet her eye, “Are you writing to her? I’d hate to be seperated from a friend for so long.”
Morgana gave him a small smile but her shoulders raised protectively, if unintentionally, “We’ve written a few back and forth. Just enough to keep in contact, but not to have Uther question anything. I… How is she?”
“Good.” Arthur said quickly, “She… she’s been keeping busy. Lancelot helps with that too I think. They’ve grown closer in your absence.”
There was pain in her eyes but she nodded with a smile, “Good. That’s… Good. Very good.”
Arthur internally frowned as he tilted his head trying to understand her sudden pain. Wasn’t it good that one of his knights was protecting her maid? He had thought Lancelot and Morgana had been… if not friends, then friendly towards each other. So… what was wrong?
It was something he pondered over the next few weeks as the talks with King Balinor continued.
In the day he’d be locked (metaphorically) in the court hall with King Balinor and his Advisors and Prince Sceledrus, usually with Leon at his side and Lancelot often nearby with Prince Kilian. In the evening, he spent time with one of the three elder royals learning a more hands-on guide to the Kingdom. Queen Hunith too, spent many days being motherly, and it was both alien and comforting. Maybe Merlin had written them about him? That would possibly explain their easy acceptance.
In the final few days of their visit, it came to Arthur’s sudden attention that he had yet to look into any accounts from the Druids in attendance about Emrys. And he had been so looking forward to being able to do so, considering Camelot had practically barred all information on magic and prophecy and whatnot.
He brought it up to Morgana that night, wondering if she had come across mention of the Druid leader in her training. And considering half of the people training her were Druids, he expected her answer to be in the positive range of responses. Yet, she seemed uncertain.
The question he posed was this: Was there a Druidic King.
“Well, there is a talk of a type of king to the druids. Of a sort, according to the people I’ve worked with. The 'Leader of Magic', destined to stand at the side of the 'Once and Future King' and bring about a 'Golden Age to Albion'. But, perhaps it’s just the muttering of hopeful seers for a better age.” Morgana said, playing with a strand of her hair. And really, it was strange to see her so settled to be carefree and playing with her hair, something he hadn’t seen her do much. In Camelot while she acted superior and confident, he could tell she never felt ‘at home’.
“And what is this oh, so great man’s name? This Lord of theirs, I assume he has a name.” Arthur tested, as if to confirm his thoughts from what Morgana didn’t know he knew.
He wanted that taste of confirmation.
The name that was basically haunting him.
Emrys.
And Morgana didn’t disappoint, and rather surpassed what he hoped.
“'The Old God of Magic who has taken Human form', at least according to the priests. Emrys in mortal skin.” Morgana’s voice was teasing, and her eyes shone with hope.
Arther frowned, so he had that minor bit of confirmation, but… It didn’t give him anything else to go on. It was still just a name. A name that was really following him everywhere, “You’ll need to explain a bit more, my 'old religion' knowledge is somewhat lacking.”
Morgana snorted at that, “It’s more than 'lacking', Arthur. It’s nonexistent.”
He rolled his eyes in brotherly affection. You know, the kind where you tolerate your sibling just enough to get through a serious conversation without poking fun at them? Yeah, that. “How can a god be mortal?”
Morgana shrugged, “Never really wanted to question it or put it to the test. I mean, aren’t we all immortal until proven killable, Arthur? Really now, what you should be asking is what the hell a god is doing walking the earth and gathering worshippers in the Druids.”
Arthur leaned back slightly as he stared into the sky, “From what I’ve picked up, he’s supposedly alive to protect his King and bring about an age of prosperity to the land. And… I want to help with that, I think. Even if he’s just some made up guy that these people believe in, I want to be someone worthy of that type of being. A King worthy to be followed by a god.” Arthur paused and reconsidered his words quickly, “Gods no, wait. Not like that. Protected? In service of? I want what the druids claimed Emrys and his King to have. Not… not that I think I’m good enough to be that King. I mean, I’m not even a King… What am I even saying?”
“I honestly tuned you out after 'prosperity'.” Morgana shrugged.
Arthur did send her a glare for that. But he shifted his attitude quickly, for he really wanted more information. “So…” And no conversation went well when he began it like that, did it? “In Camelot, did you practice magic often?”
Wow. He really just asked if she was committing treason. Great going, Arthur.
“I learnt control.” Morgana said slowly, “My magic was beginning to flare and disrupt my daily life. Or, I suppose, my nightly life considering it would happen when I was asleep. It’s better now, but my tutors don’t think I will ever be rid of my nightmares due to their magical nature. I just need to keep a better control on my magic.”
“And, of course you don’t need to answer, but… How did you learn?” Was it Merlin? He wanted to ask, but feared that response. Had Merlin really been sneaking into Morgana’s room with no one the wiser? For how long?
“A book and a tutor, although I can imagine you can guess who.”
Arthur hummed his agreement, “I can guess, but I’m not saying anything on that out loud. You should have heard what King Balinor said. It definitely sounded like a threat if I even mentioned him.”
Morgana laughed and shook her head as if fond of the King. “You need to know, Arthur, no matter how much Uther tries to rid Camelot of Magic, it can never be. Not unless he wishes to rule a kingdom of death. Magic is the very air we breathe, the life that fills us. And… There’s magic in every city. You just need to find it at the right places.”
Those words would stick to Arthur for days. He wondered where those right places were within Camelot. He could probably name each and every one of his citizens that had magic, sure, but… that wasn’t what Morgana was talking about.
And as he readied Llamrie, his mind drifted once more to Merlin. He hoped he had survived the few weeks in Camelot.
Oh, by the gods, he hoped Merlin was alright.
Line Break
Merlin, of course, was having the time of his life. A few weeks without Arthur wasn’t as detrimental to him as it apparently was to the Prince. Although, that might be because he was too busy to actually notice Arthur’s absence.
Instead of returning to Camelot, he had taken to flying as his namesake through the kingdom and meeting with Druidic leaders and other magical communities. He’d gotten all the way to the far side of Eire and up to his sister’s kingdom on the mainland. It was more freeing than riding through Gwynedd on a horse with his father, and definitely better than the stifling aura of Camelot.
Yet, all things had to come to an end as he ended at the Gate of Avalon and spent the second last week before he needed to return to Camelot so he could spend time in his Grandmother’s realm. He knew one day he’d likely be stuck there, too much magic in his body to be contained safely in a mortal realm, but for now, the visits were… nice.
They let him meet people, some ever changing and others never changing. All he could think was what it would someday be like to live under the light of the two suns and the grey castles high in the sky.
That final week of ‘freedom’ from his duties as Arthur’s manservant, he returned to Camelot to retake his duties as physician’s apprentice while he waited for Arthur to return, and that week proved to be torturously slow when a bounty hunter turned up.
Which…
Merlin knew that Camelot payed for magic-users, he’d been taught it growing up, but to see the girl in the cage hurt him so much, for some reason. So, who could blame him for freeing her and hiding her in the tunnels beneath the castle, really?
He didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt, but when the bodies started piling up, Sir Kay was tasked with finding the monster responsible while half the rest of the knights were tasked with finding the Druid girl.
It was her, however, that Merlin spent time with. Both monster and woman. He trusted her, and if not her honesty, then her fear of death. As anyone in Camelot with magic would. And he felt safe with her. Like he had with Morgana. Telling her things with the trust that she’d keep them safe.
It was strange, but in a way, to him, it made sense. He knew the struggles her people, his people, had gone through, had seen and heard it growing up, had felt it in his veins.
But, Freya brought in doubts too. She made him doubt his place in Camelot. Her suffering made him realise that in Gwynedd it might be safe, but Camelot still was dangerous.
Something he hadn’t forgotten, but she made it all the more real.
So many people already knew about his magic, from Gwen and Gaius to Lancelot and Leon. Now, he could bet, Arthur too. If, that is, he made the unfortunate connection between his birth kingdom and his parents to himself. And really, there were quite alot of unfortunate similarities between him and his father.
Would the Knights or the Servants mourn him if Uther found out?
After all, it would only take one word at an unfortunate time to see him strung up. He was scared, he realised, of losing everyone. Not of death, and he certaintly wasn’t afraid of the Mad King killing him.
But... most of Camelot would see his hidden gifts as a betrayal. But the truth would always come out someday. Whether it was from someone seeing something they weren’t supposed to, or his father sending a delegation finally to receive his wayward son.
Needless to day, her death hit him hard. He couldn’t fault the guards and knights for protecting the land by slaying the beast. And, if Arthur were here, he could see Arthur being the first one to get injured trying to do so.
But...
It felt awful.
Merlin had barely known her a week, but he had taken care of her, and gave her what aid he could with the city on high alert, as it had gotten stronger at finding runaway druids unfortunately. One too many escapes on his part, likely.
He didn’t blame anyone.
How could he? The knights saw her as a beast, and if she wasn’t in such a form, she’d have been executed just for living as a Druid. Maybe that way would have been more of a weight on his shoulders.
He hated to watch his people die as he stood by and could do nothing to help them but offer a prayer to guide their spirits.
When Arthur returned, Merlin filled with hope. Renewed hope, of a time when these deaths wouldn’t be necessary.
If only it would happen sooner rather than later.
-------------
For anyone wondering, Lancelot was sitting next to Lord Darius Bowell, which if we remember, is the not-faked but faked heritage that Merlin told Lancelot to claim, and learning it most certaintly is a real claim, which is why he choked.
And, one guess as who was sitting next to Leon during the feast, aha.