Fanfic - This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be (3/11)
Title: This Dark Road Will Lead Us Where We Want to Be
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author’s Note: See part one.
Part Two
Typically, there were only two places where executions in Camelot were held. The vast majority occurred in the main courtyard, as it afforded the opportunity to make a public display of the punishment doled out to those who chose to practice magic in the kingdom, a spectacle and warning alike for the masses. But there were times when, for political (and once or twice, personal) reasons, an execution was held in the smaller courtyard behind the castle. It lacked the dramatic flair and swell of inbred fear that openly accessible executions often brought forth, but it served its own purpose, especially in cases where there was effort to actually hide the execution from the public eye.
Arthur harboured no doubt whatsoever that his father had purposely chosen to access the inner courtyard for this particular execution, not the least of those reasons being that his chambers faced the main courtyard, and there would be no way to hide the intent of Uther's actions if carried out directly under Arthur's nose. No, Arthur was undeniably confident that he knew his father well enough to recognise the fact that by moving up the time and altering the location, he believed he could take care of the 'Merlin problem' before Arthur even awoke for the day. Except for the minor detail that Uther was painfully unaware of the fact that killing Merlin would also kill his son, a reveal Arthur was greatly dreading, now that it occurred to him that confrontation was just on the horizon.
He sprinted at a steady pace, taking every shortcut he knew of, and ignoring any surprised exclamations or questions from confused castle-dwellers as he passed. Arthur silently thanked the gods that he was in peak physical condition, because the castle was not small, and the trip from Gaius' chambers to the courtyard out back was far longer than one would anticipate. When he finally burst out from one set of back doors, he could see a small group of people, mostly guards and council members, gathered several hundred feet away, his father among the numbers. Arthur knew by virtue of still being alive and breathing that Merlin had not yet been executed, but he had no way of knowing how imminent that course of action was, so Arthur did the only thing he knew of to put a halt to everything.
"Stop!" he hollered, voice booming in the silence of the early morning as he raced into the courtyard at top speed. "Stop!"
All eyes fell to Arthur as he entered the execution area, eyes wild, hair flying in every direction, panting with exertion. He darted past the slew of guards that separated him from Merlin -- was surprised when no one attempted to prevent him from getting closer -- and found himself face-to-face with Merlin, tied to a pole up on an unlit pyre, looking for the world like he'd already died, at least in spirit. Relief washed over him like a wave, despite the guilt that clenched at his chest like a vice at the sight of Merlin looking so helpless, and he crumpled forward, hands coming to rest on his knees as he sucked a few deep breaths into his oxygen-deprived lungs.
"Arthur. What are you doing here?" Arthur righted himself and turned to face the harsh tone of his father. Uther stood with hands on his hips, face twisted into a scowl, but for his part, he didn't appear as surprised to see Arthur as would have been expected.
Arthur pointedly ignored the question, stepping purposefully between his father and Merlin before addressing Uther. "Why are you out here now? I thought the execution was scheduled for noon," he growled out, barely able to keep from wincing at the word 'execution'.
"I decided that it was in Camelot's best interest to move up the scheduled execution time," Uther said, voice cutting like the blade of a knife.
Arthur knew it was a lie as much as his father did, but he wasn't sure that calling him on it was the wisest course of action at the moment. "You wanted me out of the way," Arthur stated matter-of-factly, not as an accusation or a question, but simply as a known truth, impressed with his own show of restraint in light of the current situation. He was playing a dangerous game here, and Arthur was acutely aware that there was still the distinct possibility that both he and Merlin would end up dead within the hour anyway.
Uther shook his head, shooting a disparaging look in his son's direction, as if he saw his weakness and pitied him for it. "There is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening. I know you care for the boy, but he made his choice when he broke Camelot's laws, and he must suffer those consequences."
"Had Merlin not intervened, I would be the one dead right now. He dies because I live," Arthur pointed out, feeling a renewed wave of anger wash over him at the blind stupidity of his father. How had he never realised the inherently flawed logic in the king's viewpoint before was a testament to how strongly Uther had the people brainwashed into thinking that all sorcery was evil and wrong.
"Get him out of here," Uther commanded with a casual flick of the wrist, and instantly, two guards had Arthur in a veritable death grip. He hadn't seen who they were, but instinctively suspected they were some of his knights, brain already calculating how to get out from their hold on him.
Arthur began struggling the instant they attempted to remove him from the area, twisting his arms and shoulders, and endeavouring to elbow one or both of them square in the chest. But their hold on him was surprisingly forceful, and in spite of his best efforts, Arthur found himself being dragged back anyway.
"You can't do this," Arthur shouted, even though he was still only mere feet away from his father. He was only vaguely aware of how ridiculous he must look at the moment, but didn't particularly care.
Uther pointedly ignored Arthur's outburst, folding his arms across his chest and turning his head away from Arthur, very clearly sending the message that I am King and this is my decision alone to make. Nothing you say can possibly make me change my mind..
"If you kill Merlin, you'll also condemn me to death," he announced loudly, boring a hole into the side of his father's forehead as he continued to struggle against the guards.
That caught Uther's attention, whipping his face back to meet Arthur's angry expression, reflecting a similar sentiment in the prince's direction. "What are you talking about?" Uther questioned, sounding completely unmoved, but taking the bait all the same.
Before Arthur had time to talk himself out of this incredibly rash action -- reminding himself that he'd already committed the offense; this was merely the confession stage of the game -- he blurted out the secret that'd been his alone up until this point. "I bonded my soul to Merlin's; if you kill him, then I will die too."
The announcement resulted in an eruption of shocked cries from those present in the courtyard, particularly the few present council members. He heard Merlin's audible gasp from somewhere behind his shoulder, but he ignored the desire to react, to apologise for lying and explain his actions; however, Merlin was the least of his concerns at the moment. If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead on the spot as Uther rounded on him, posture and expression reflecting every ounce of cold, unadulterated fury that radiated from every pore of his body. The two guards still holding him in a deadlock seemed to unconsciously loosen their grasps on him simultaneously, and Arthur used this opportunity to shake them off. Unsurprisingly, neither attempted to grab hold of him once more.
"What did you say?" Uther demanded, voice low and dangerous, accentuating every word. Even the scar that ran across his forehead seemed to thrum and pulsate with rage, and for one of the first times in his life, Arthur actually feared his father.
Nonetheless, he knew he was in too deep to back out now. It was all or nothing, at this point. "I said, you can't kill Merlin because his soul is bonded to mine. If you kill him, you'll kill me too," Arthur repeated calmly, tone belying the sheer terror that threatened to consume him.
"You're lying," Uther bit out through clenched teeth, but Arthur shook his head.
"I'm not."
"I don't believe you," Uther nearly growled. "You know better than that. You of all people would never defy me like that. You'd never use magic." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur, and the cold fury staring back at Arthur sent a chill down his spine.
Suddenly Uther lunged forward, grabbing Arthur's tunic and shaking him forcefully, hands fisting as his wild eyes filled with equal parts rage and betrayal. "Stop lying to me," he hollered, the sound reverberating throughout the otherwise quiet morning air, and for a brief moment, Arthur thought Uther might just kill him right on the spot anyway. Any other sounds faded out of existence, those witness to the scene before them held their breaths in collective anticipation of what was about to happen. But just when it seemed as though Uther would lose his last shred of control, something seemed to click -- Arthur witnessed the minor shift in his father's countenance, even as he shook him to his core -- and he shoved Arthur backwards, taking a purposeful step away from his son. Arthur nearly lost his balance, struggling to right himself without falling over, and he watched his father carefully for his reaction. He had no doubt that by taking this course of action, Arthur had damaged their relationship -- possibly permanently -- but he still saw no other course of action, and did not regret anything; at least not yet.
Silence stretched in the air between them for what felt like minutes, though was likely only a few seconds, vehement tension swelling in the air all around and between father and son, neither choosing to speak again.
"I wasn't lying," Arthur finally told him softly, as he began to come down off of his adrenaline high, voice shaking in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, and he found he could no longer meet his father's enraged gaze, felt the fury and the betrayal and the disappointment without having to see it, scorched forever into his memory.
"You will be sorry that you ever did this, make no mistake," Uther hissed at him, before ordering the guards to take both Merlin and Arthur to the dungeons and striding away.
Arthur groaned, leaning his head against the wall he was propped against, and closed his eyes. He was really starting to regret not planning this out better beforehand. Sure, Merlin was alive and well -- for now; who knew what would happen to them both in the next twenty-four hours -- but Arthur desperately needed to talk to him, and he didn't have the faintest idea of how to make that happen. Uther was enraged, and if Arthur were a betting man, he'd wager good money on the likelihood that his father would do everything in his power to keep Arthur as far away from Merlin as possible.
Trying to break out of here was pointless, he knew. Arthur wouldn't be able to set foot past his cell door without being stopped by a slew of guards; Uther had made sure of that much. And even if he somehow managed to take them all out with his physical prowess -- though Arthur wasn't so arrogant to think he could take on that many knights at once, unarmed -- by the time he reached Merlin's cell, they'd maybe have four to five minutes, at the most in which to speak. It wasn't enough.
So he sat, angry and frustrated and thoughtful, attempting to figure out a solution to this impossible situation.
It took a good fifteen minutes before he was struck with an idea that was even remotely feasible. In reality, it was by all practical standards ridiculous, and with a very slim chance of success. Still, it was an idea, nonetheless, and that was worth at least pursuing to the end. The other day -- it felt like years ago now -- when he and Gaius had discussed what, exactly, it meant to bond his soul to someone else's, something he'd said hadn't meant much to him at the time. But now, whilst he was contemplating ways of getting into Merlin's cell, or vice versa, that seemingly inconsequential comment held hope for a potential solution to their current predicament. Gaius had told him that sometimes there was some sort of emotional bond, in which 'the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts'; but it was the 'thoughts' part of his claim that now piqued Arthur's interest.
Arthur pushed himself into standing from the floor, dusting off the back of his trousers as he made his way towards the cell door. "Leon?" Arthur called out, rattling the bars just enough to make noise, but not too much to rouse anyone's suspicions. He waited a second, maybe two, then repeated the action of shaking the bars and yelling for Leon. Arthur was a knight himself, had spent many nights guarding prisoners in the past, and so he knew full well that there would be at least two -- likely more than that, given the circumstances -- knights standing within earshot of the cell door. Why he chose Leon, Arthur wasn't entirely sure, except that he seemed to be sympathetic to this whole situation, and Arthur would need a sympathetic individual -- and one he trusted -- if he hoped to make this long shot a possibility.
Arthur was about to try for a third round when he heard shuffling in the distance. Releasing the bars, Arthur took a step away from them, absently kicking at a small stone on the floor, while he waited for a guard to appear. It was Hector who eventually showed up outside his cell door, apprehension apparent in his posture.
"He's not here, sire," Hector informed him; not terse, but lacking in the usual zeal his youngest knight was prone to display.
"Do you know where he is?" Arthur asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
Hector hesitated for a second, casting a quick glance behind him before responding. "He stepped out for a moment. Is there something I can help you with, sire?"
Arthur simply shook his head. "No. But please inform Sir Leon I need to speak with him upon his return," he instructed, knowing full well that even though he was the prince, his words held less weight from behind the bars of a prison cell. Still, Arthur was counting on Hector's loyalty to him to at least pass along the message to Leon and he hoped he wouldn't have to wait long.
Time stilled, as it often did when one was waiting for something particularly important, and Arthur eventually ceased his pacing to take a seat on the cold stone floor at the back of the cell. He wanted to appear as in control as possible when Leon did arrive -- if he arrived, though Arthur was praying he would.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was more realistically no more than ten to fifteen minutes, he heard the familiar click of his cell door, eyes jumping up to watch Leon as he cautiously took a step past the threshold.
"Leon." Arthur beckoned him into the cell, remaining fully seated, lest Leon get any ideas about what he might want and bolt.
Leon looked pained as he edged forward with a measure of trepidation, and Arthur hadn't even said anything to him yet. His concern and understanding over this whole debacle made Arthur wonder if Leon, too, didn't have some of his own secrets to hide. "I need to ask something of you," he stated plainly. Arthur saw little value in beating around the bush with this particular request; either he agreed to it or he didn't, plain and simple.
A single brow arched high on Leon's head, inquiring, waiting.
"I need you to bring a message to Merlin for me," he said, solemn. "It's incredibly important."
"Sire, surely you know that's an unwise request," Leon began to protest, tossing a quick look over his shoulder as if to ensure no one had heard anything. He took a few more tentative steps towards Arthur.
"I'm aware," Arthur said, waving Leon further into the room, and he lumbered over to where Arthur sat on the dirty floor. "However, I desperately need to get a message to him, and I unfortunately don't happen to be in a situation where I'm able to do that at the moment."
For all his height and status, Leon appeared as nervous and awkward as a teenage boy about to be caught by his parents for doing something illicit, if his jittery fidgeting all of a sudden was any indication. "Sire, I'm not sure --"
Arthur nodded, holding up a hand. "Leon, I know I'm asking something that I have no right to ask of you, and if you don't feel comfortable doing so, I understand and will not hold it against you. You've always been one of the most honourable knights I know, and so I will respect your decision."
Leon hesitated, looking torn. Frowning, he knelt down and leaned towards Arthur, speaking deliberately and with a hushed voice. "I have orders to report anything you request directly back to the king. He will know you asked to speak with me and will demand the details surrounding our conversation." Leon swallowed, pressed his lips together.
"I won't ask you to lie," Arthur assured him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, kindly squeezing the muscles beneath his fingers.
But Leon shook his head, eyes wide. "I didn't say I wasn't going to do it. I just need to know what you want me to tell your father."
Leon's loyalty and faithfulness were truly remarkable, and Arthur vowed to remember this in the future and reward him for it. He always knew that there was something unique about one of his most seasoned knights, but it was only now that he was beginning to truly understand what that was. Arthur couldn't help the thankful smile that graced his features. "You can tell my father that I wanted an update on how Merlin was doing, and if you tell me now, then you wouldn't be lying to him."
Leon nodded in understanding. "He's tired, but otherwise fine, sire," he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. Lowering his voice, he added, "What message did you wish me to bring him?"
Arthur chanced a peek over Leon's shoulder, just to ensure no one was loitering around the cell entrance, but he nearly pressed his mouth to Leon's ear anyway. "I just need you to tell him: Listen to me."
Leon cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing in confusion. "That's it?"
Arthur nodded. "He'll understand. I hope. Just tell him that for me, and you will have my eternal gratitude."
"'Listen to me'," Leon repeated, and Arthur indicated his assent.
"Yes."
"All right." And then he was gone.
Arthur smiled, hopeful.
*****
Hope was beginning to fade as time wore on, and the more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to believe that this plan was utter rubbish. Who was he kidding? He was relying on little more than a flight of fancy and his own skewed interpretation of Gaius’ words. Still, if there was any chance at all, even if the odds were one in a million, it was worth pursuing until the end.
So Arthur paced back and forth for a while. And when he grew tired of that, opted to rest against one of the walls, all the while mentally chanting, 'Merlin? Merlin? Can you hear me, Merlin?' as a way of gaining the sorcerer's attention, with driven focus and careful attention. There was no reason for Arthur to actually believe that he would be able to communicate telepathically with Merlin, and yet it also wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.
Still, several hours later, with no signs of success emerging on the horizon, Arthur was about ready to call this plan off and accept defeat. He now sat on the floor, back against a wall, shoulders slumped forward, knees bent, and arms resting atop his legs. Sleep actually threatened to overtake Arthur, and he felt downright dejected.
Arthur?
The address startled him, and Arthur practically jumped out of his skin at the sound, banging his head against the back wall and letting out a hiss of pain in the process. His eyes darted frantically around the room as his hand flew to grasp the back of his skull, massaging the area forcefully, absolutely certain he'd heard Merlin's voice, but a quick sweep of the cell indicated that there was nothing.
Arthur? the voice asked again, but this time it sounded more internal, as if Merlin were speaking into his brain instead of being physically present in the room with him.
And then... then it suddenly dawned on him. 'Merlin?' Arthur thought, attempting to divert focus from the throbbing pain at the top of his skull to the current, and far more pressing, situation.
Yes, it's me.
'You can hear me?' he asked, still not believing that his idea had actually come to fruition.
There was a pause, and for a moment Arthur thought he might have been imagining the whole thing. But then Merlin's utterly baffled reply arrived, Erm, yes. But I'm not sure how, exactly.
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes, but then decided against it when it occurred to him that Merlin couldn't see him anyway. 'Really, Merlin? You can't figure out how we're communicating telepathically? I thought even you might be able to solve that one.' Arthur hadn’t intended on starting this conversation off by insulting him, but there was something comforting in knowing that amidst all the insanity of their lives at the moment, they could still fall back on their old, familiar pattern.
Prat, Merlin complained, but Arthur could almost feel the hint of amusement in his tone, and the sound filled him with an unexplainable sense of contentment. I know it's through magic, but how are we able to do it, I mean?
'I think it has to do with our bond,' Arthur thought, still reeling at the idea that he was actually conversing with Merlin without him being in the room. This ability could come in handy later, though he supposed it could also potentially wind up causing trouble. They'd have to have a conversation about this new talent at some point in the future, provided they were both still alive to do so, of course. 'Gaius said something about being able to sense each other's feelings and mood and thoughts. I just went on that theory, but I never expected it would actually work.'
Oh. Silence stretched between them for several long moments. Why did you do it, Arthur? Merlin eventually asked.
'I assume you're talking about the soul bonding thing,' Arthur replied. He climbed up off the floor and made his way towards the bed instead. It looked uncomfortable and filthy, but Arthur's arse was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long, and he dropped his resolve to avoid the bed at all costs. Anything had to be better than the dirty, hard floor, he reasoned, as he settled down on the mattress, face turned towards the black ceiling above.
You could have died. He sounded upset.
Arthur huffed audibly, though he knew it wouldn't resonate into their mental conversation. 'So could you. It was the only option I had.'
Risking your life to save mine? You had to trick me, because you knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?
'Well, was I wrong?'
No. I wouldn't have, Merlin said, sounding hurt all of a sudden. I haven't spent the last two years watching over your princely arse to have you go down in flames with me, you know. Something about that statement nicked at his pride -- as if he, the Crown Prince of Camelot, needed a servant to protect him -- but he shoved down the feeling in favour of continuing the current conversation.
'Actually, I don't know, since you decided to omit the minor detail that you were a sorcerer all this time,' Arthur retorted, in spite of himself, a small spike of anger sparking in his gut, though the immediate pang of regret that surfaced came as a bit of a shock. He’d been lied to and deceived for an incredibly lengthy period of time, and what was worse, it’d been by someone he trusted explicitly; a close friend. And yet, any logical argument that Arthur could supply his brain with about how he had every right to be furious with Merlin was tossed to the wind when he considered the other possibilities. A life without Merlin felt like... Well, it felt akin to fighting a war without armour, of riding across the country without a horse, or sunbathing while it was raining -- all irrational, ridiculous and nearly impossible, unbelievably sentimental as the feeling was. Arthur wasn’t sure exactly when or how it’d happened, but somehow Merlin had burrowed into his life, claiming a piece of him, a part in his world, and all he knew was that he couldn’t fathom living without him any longer. His reaction to the whole situation was probably telling enough.
I know. I'm so sorry about that. But you have to understand that I didn't have a choice. I wanted to tell you so many times and in so many different ways, but I just never could. Merlin hesitated, and for some reason Arthur felt a sense of dread at the impending words. I was scared that you'd hate me or turn me over to your father, and then I wouldn't be able to stick around to protect you. This seemed like the only safe course of action.
Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He contemplated for several moments on how to respond to that. There was no way of knowing how he might have responded back in the earlier days of their relationship, when they were still building that trust in one another, but Arthur was quite certain he never would have hated Merlin, no matter how angry he'd been.
'I understand what you did. Or at least I think I do,' he amended. Arthur let his arm drop to rest at his side, hand landing across his stomach, and he splayed his fingers across the soft fabric of his tunic. 'I won't lie and say that it doesn't sting -- that you felt you couldn't trust me with this piece of yourself -- but I believe you when you say you wanted to tell me. And I suppose I would've probably done the same thing, if the situation had been reversed.' He wanted to add more, about never being able to hate Merlin, but somehow that felt like too capacious of an admission at this point, especially when he considered the fact that this realisation had only just dawned on him as well. Instead, he added, 'I don't hate you, though.'
Merlin let out a relieved chuckle, more nervous than humorous, making Arthur wonder how he was able to do that. I'm glad to hear that. A beat passed, and then, You can tell your father that I forced you to do it. That way he won't take it out on you, and when we break the bond -- something flip-flopped in his belly at the suggestion of breaking their bond, though he had no idea why -- you won't have to suffer the consequences of going against your father.
Arthur sighed, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 'Merlin, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but that completely defeats the purpose of what I did,' he said. 'I'm the one who tricked you, and I was more than ready to suffer the consequences of my actions.'
Even if those consequences involved death?
Arthur swallowed thickly. 'Yes,' he answered honestly, the full weight of that admission hitting him square in the chest at that very moment. This was not the first time Arthur had risked his life for Merlin, and probably wouldn't be the last, but this was different than those previous scenarios, somehow. Arthur didn't want to think about it too much, otherwise the obvious truth of the act might force him to admit that Merlin meant more to him than he was willing to own up to. There was, of course, the added fact that Uther would not kill Merlin while he was bonded to Arthur, but that still didn’t diminish the action he’d taken.
'Look, Merlin,' Arthur thought, purposely steering the direction of the conversation back to the way he'd originally intended, ignoring the prodding voice at the back of his mind that reminded him he couldn't ignore this forever. 'I wanted to talk to you. I need to know every time you've used magic in the past couple of years.'
There was silence for a beat. Every time?
'Yes, Merlin, that's what I just said.'
Arthur wasn’t sure what Merlin was referring to, exactly, though he thought it might explain a few things, if he'd been using magic to do his chores, for example. Like how Arthur's armour was always perfectly spotless in an unreasonably short amount of time, or how his bath water was always hot, no matter how long it took Merlin to haul it up to his chambers. 'Every time that my father might care,' he clarified.
All right, as long as you’re sure.
Arthur nodded into the darkness.
*****
The plan had been to listen, to hear what Merlin had to say and to interrupt as infrequently as possible. This information was not only significant to Arthur, as every truth he'd accepted over the past two years was suddenly being ripped apart and transformed into something entirely different, but it had the additional significance of being factual information that could potentially be used in Merlin's defence. Not that Uther's tyranny had ever been snuffed out before, but for every impossible situation Arthur'd faced in the past and arose victorious, he hadn't yet given up hoping for miracles.
So, with that intention, Arthur listened to what Merlin had to say, commenting fairly frequently, but keeping most of his thoughts in check. Merlin shared how he’d used magic to trip Arthur up during their first actual fight and to save Arthur’s life, which, admittedly, Arthur thought was kind of impressive in a treasonous sort of way. He spoke of Valiant and the shield, and how he’d stayed up all night to learn the spell he needed to use to animate Valiant’s shield and prevent Arthur’s death. Even within the first few minutes of their conversation, the common theme emerging seemed to be that of Merlin saving Arthur’s life, and he felt conflicted about what this all meant, exactly.
It actually came as a surprise to Arthur when Merlin shared he knew the dragon, and how it had spoken of their “destiny” time and time again.
‘So are you telling me that you spent time with the dragon?’
Yes, he replied. He called me when I first arrived in Camelot. Erm, he also sort of helped me many times over the past couple of years. Somewhat.
‘The same dragon that attacked Camelot?’ Arthur pressed, frowning slightly.
There was an unidentified lilt to Merlin’s voice, for just a second. Yes, it was the same one.
Of course it had been the same dragon. His father made it clear that there’d been only one remaining dragon, just as there’d only been one remaining Dragonlord. Now there was none of either, but still... A light in the back of Arthur’s mind flickered, as though there was something more significant about this information, but he stored it in his mental file as an area to investigate further at a later point in time, and encouraged Merlin to continue.
He listened as Merlin spoke of how he’d only been trying to help Gwen and her father, but had ended up getting her arrested for sorcery instead. Arthur cringed a little at the memory of arresting Guinevere without thought, when a few hours later, he’d stood in front of his father and defended Merlin from the same charges. Arthur was beginning to realise that he might have always been a bit protective of Merlin when they reached the part of his story where he’d gone off to find the Mortaeus flower. Alone. Against his father’s wishes. It wouldn’t be the last time he disobeyed his father for Merlin’s sake, but something about this particular incident felt significant in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Something dawned on Arthur a moment later. 'Wait, you mean to tell me that you were the one who guided me out of the cave with that glowing blue orb thing?'
Er, yeah... Merlin said, sounding almost sheepish. I wasn't even really aware of what was going on around me, but apparently I was mumbling things in my sleep and then I conjured up the light.
‘How is that even possible?’ Arthur wondered, toying with the idea in his mind. ‘I mean, how would you even have known I was in danger?’
There was silence on Merlin’s end for a moment, and Arthur could almost imagine him shrugging his shoulders. I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe we’ve always had a sort of bond, or connection, or something.
Arthur’d heard stranger things before, so he didn’t bother pressing the issue.
Merlin continued to tell him about Lancelot -- which suddenly caused a number of things to fall into place in Arthur’s brain -- and then Edwin, and how Merlin had saved Uther’s life when he’d tried to exact his revenge. The fact that Merlin had used his magic to save the king was incredibly significant, and Arthur felt an underlying sense of sorrow for his father’s ignorance and hatred rise in his throat.
It came as far less of a surprise when Merlin shared that Arthur had been enchanted by a love spell. He’d always suspected something was off about that business with Sophia, but he’d never quite been able to make sense of the situation until now. It also explained why Arthur remembered nothing of the ridiculous story Merlin and Gaius had fed him after the fact.
He’d found a small piece of flint stone under the bed earlier, and rolling over, Arthur reached for it. Fingering the small stone, rough edges digging into the pads of his fingers, Arthur started to make small marks on the wall beside his head, tracking every time Merlin had saved his or his father’s life. He was up to six already.
‘Just to clarify,’ Arthur jumped in a little while later, when Merlin spoke of some sword the dragon had forged for him, ‘the dragon breathed some sort of magical fire onto a sword that was made specifically for me?’
Yes.
‘Then my father used the sword to defeat the undead knight?’
That’s correct.
‘And then, instead of giving it to me, you... threw it in a lake?’
Arthur could practically feel the blush creeping up Merlin’s face. Um... yes?
He closed his eyes, sighing, the barest hint of a smile creeping up on his lips. ‘Just checking.’
The first time Arthur actually became upset was towards the end of Merlin's exposition about the Questing Beast.
'What the hell is wrong with you?' he demanded, feeling the anger rise in his chest. He'd started pacing the cell about ten minutes prior, restless energy needing an outlet as training with his knights was currently out of the question. Merlin's penchant for heroic suicidal acts was starting to really get to him. Arthur didn't understand why he seemed to value Arthur's life above his own, especially when Arthur had, on numerous occasions, proven that he was willing to die for Merlin, the current situation withstanding. Arthur may have been born into privilege and rank, while Merlin had far more humble beginnings, but that'd never mattered much to Merlin in all the time Arthur had known him. And slowly, the class difference between nobles and servants lost most of their effect on Arthur as well, reluctant as he was to even acknowledge that to himself.
I couldn't let you die, came the responding protest. There was no other option that I could see.
'So, naturally, the only thing to do was offer up your own life. Of course no one would've noticed your mysterious disappearance,' Arthur said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
There was a pregnant pause. To be honest, not many would have. Gaius, Gwen and Morgana. Possibly a couple of the other servants. And you, I'd assume. Arthur tried not to scoff. Merlin really did have a mental affliction, he decided then and there. There was no other explanation that he could see. But I'm nothing in this whole equation if you're not alive, he finished.
'And if our destinies are so entwined, as you adamantly claim they are, then tell me how, exactly, I'm supposed to fulfill that destiny with you being dead?'
There was no answer for a moment, and Arthur felt secure in the knowledge that he'd made his point. Merlin sighed, sounding tired, but Arthur couldn't let this go just yet. Wisps of a conversation, long since abandoned as being insignificant began to float back to him then, this newfound knowledge casting a whole new light on the memory. ‘That day,’ he started, twisting the idea around in his head, even as he struggled to sort through the information. ‘That day when you came to me and told me that I’d make a fine king some day but insisted that I needed to learn how to listen, then proceeded to call me a prat -- I always thought there was something off about that conversation. You were saying good-bye, weren’t you? Getting ready to go off to die.’ It was accusatory, at best, but Arthur was upset with the knowledge that Merlin had simply forfeited his life for Arthur like that, and no one would have ever known. Except, save maybe Gaius, who likely wouldn’t have said anything anyway.
No answer I give is going to make you any less angry, Merlin said a few moments later. But you’re right -- I did come to say good-bye. I thought it was better than nothing at all.
It didn’t matter, really, that he hadn’t actually died in the end, was still alive and well, all things considered. What mattered was that Merlin had done it more than once, offered his life up for Arthur’s, which meant he could just as easily do it again. There was something to be said for nobility and sacrifice and honour. Growing up as a prince, Arthur had learned at a young age that people were going to lay down their lives as a sacrifice for him, to protect their prince and future king, and he’d even come to terms with the fact. But it’d never been that way with Merlin. He saw right through Arthur, saw past the prince to the man beneath the public persona, and still cared about him anyway. He was offering up his life for Arthur the man, Arthur the friend, Arthur the equal. And even though Merlin’s perspective was a little off, his vision of the world not yet accepted amongst most people, his heart remained in the right place.
‘Well, you’re sure as hell not running off and sacrificing yourself for me at every chance you get any longer,’ Arthur ordered, leaving no room for debate.
I’m not allowing you to die if I can prevent it, was all he said in response.
‘I’m not allowing you to die either. So from now on, we discuss these sorts of things. Do I make myself clear?’ If they still had a future, Arthur’s brain pointed out helpfully.
If you’re expecting me to agree to this, then I think it needs to go both ways. You have a tendency to do the same thing, you know, Merlin pointed out, sounding a bit put-off by the whole conversation.
Arthur didn’t like the Merlin’s tactics, even while he recognised the truth of his words. But in the end he agreed anyway, because they had to move on.
Merlin reached the part of his story where he spoke of the witchfinder, Aredian, and even though he had been incredibly reckless with his magic, he sounded so distraught about what had nearly happened to Gaius that Arthur didn’t have the heart to scold him for it.
‘So what happened next?’ Arthur asked when Merlin fell quiet for an unusually long period of time.
A beat passed, and then two. Then, Look, Arthur. I'm, uh -- well, I'm feeling pretty exhausted here. Can we just, can we maybe leave the rest of the story for later? Merlin's tired voice suggested.
'But the more I know, the better ammunition I'll have against my father.'
I know... He trailed off. I'm sorry. I just don't think I can do this any longer. I’m tired, my head hurts, and I’m just... really tired... There was a broken element to his voice, and Arthur wondered what it was that Merlin didn't want to tell him. Still, the effect of maintaining the mental connection was actually beginning to make Arthur's head hurt as well, and he could only imagine what Merlin must've been experiencing. In the end, the saving of Arthur's life five versus fifty times might not have that huge of an impact on swaying Uther's decision, but he was quite sure that he at least had enough to make an argument at this point.
'All right,' Arthur agreed. 'But this conversation isn't over. We will carry on with it later.' If there was a later.
Thank you, Arthur.
Arthur nodded, closed his eyes, expelled a breath, trying to sort through all this new information. 'Just hang in there, Merlin,' he said at long last. And then there was silence once more.
Somewhere along the line, Arthur managed to drift off to sleep, the mental exhaustion from sustaining the telepathic connection with Merlin taking its toll on both his body and mind. While he slept, Arthur dreamed of all the adventures he and Merlin had shared in the past, but this time everything was different; there were no secrets, no hiding, no barriers between them. Merlin was Merlin and Arthur was Arthur, and something about it felt right.
Arthur awoke to the sound of his cell door creaking open. He cracked his eyes open, assessing the situation as he shifted from his back onto his side with an oomph, not quite realising how stiff he was until he attempted the manoeuvre. Two guards entered first -- he couldn't quite tell who they were as the room was far darker now, dim light casting deep shadows across their faces -- followed by Hector taking up the rear. In one hand he grasped a burning torch which illuminated the entire cell quite effectively; the other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment.
"The king requests an audience with you, sire," the burly guard on the right -- Gawain -- informed him, dipping his head respectfully as he waited for Arthur to get up.
Arthur nodded, rolling off the bed with a distinct lack of his typical grace. He blamed the nearly rock-hard excuse for a bed he'd fallen asleep on, thinking it only slightly more bearable than sleeping on the floor. Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it down and not appear as though he'd just been sound asleep as Gawain and -- now that he could see him properly -- Bedivere led him out of the dungeon.
*****
Arthur felt his muscles tense involuntarily as he was escorted into the throne room, instinctively preparing for the verbal, and possibly even physical, lashing that he knew his father was about to dole out. He bit back the swell of anger that arose in his chest once more at the thought of what he'd almost done to Merlin early this morning -- it felt like years had passed since this day began -- forcing his breathing to slow, and reminding himself that he needed to tread carefully. The room was quiet, thrumming with a silent intensity as he was led forward until they reached their destination, a multitude of candles flickering brightly against the back walls. It was no surprise to find Uther sitting at the throne, bent over a table covered in parchments, maps, and various other documents, brows furrowed and a frown firmly planted on his features. Uther startled slightly at their entrance into the room, but otherwise his gaze remained focused on whatever documents currently held his attention. He flipped through several papers, rummaging around for something at the corner of the table, and emitted a soft grunt upon locating what appeared to be the desired information.
Several moments passed as silence hung heavy, the single source of noise arising from the shuffling of paper and the pounding of Arthur's own heart hammering against his chest. Arthur felt quite sure that this was some sort of test, or possibly the beginning of what would likely later be described as his torturous punishment, but he was determined to wait his father out. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was that Uther Pendragon always acted with purpose, and he hadn't summoned Arthur to simply have him stand in the throne room for an hour. There was a reason Arthur stood before his father, and he would wait as long as he needed to in order to face his consequences and begin to plan ahead for how he was going to get himself and Merlin out of this mess.
Arthur's frustration and impatience increased at every second that ticked by in which Uther devoted all of his attention to the documents lying in front of him, a million possibilities racing through his mind. Uther loved him fiercely, this much Arthur knew. He’d seen evidence time and time again of his father’s willingness to put his own life above Arthur’s. But at the same time, Uther’s hatred of magic ran deep, possibly as deep as his love for Arthur. The fact that Arthur had used magic against his father would not be something he took lightly or easily forgave, regardless of Uther’s love for him, and that made his reaction to this particular situation all the more unpredictable. One thing Arthur knew for sure was that his father was furious with him, but what that meant for them, for their relationship, was a significant unknown. Perhaps he would disinherit Arthur again, or maybe he would leave Merlin locked up in the dungeons until one of them passed away from old age. There were countless ways Uther could punish Arthur without doing anything to Merlin, and there was a large part of him that just wished his father would explode with the rage he felt so Arthur could move beyond this state of unknowing. However, he was no fool. Arthur had willingly used magic for his own means, but unlike his father, he was fully prepared to face the consequences of his actions, and would never lay blame upon others if things went awry.
Moments bled into minutes, time slowing so that every second that passed felt like an eternity as Arthur stood before his father, arms folded loosely across his chest, shoulders squared, jaw firmly set. When Uther eventually glanced up at Arthur, he wore a neutral expression, eyes cool and lips pressed together thoughtfully as he casually leaned back against his throne.
"As it turns out, the sorcerer claiming to be Lord Eyrbrich was actually an imposter," he said, voice betraying nothing more than the usual straightforwardness he possessed when sharing important information with the council. His gaze dropped to the table momentarily as he riffled through a few pages, returning his focus to Arthur immediately following the action, eyes impassive but assessing. "Lord Eyrbrich and his company were attacked on route to Camelot by a band of rogue bandits, one of whom happened to be a sorcerer with a grudge."
The information seemed to make a lot more sense in light of the events of the previous day, but nonetheless Arthur was taken aback slightly by this news all the same. The knowledge that he should care more about the fact that Camelot's alliance with Southumbria was still a possibility passed briefly through his mind, but the only real concern he had at the moment was what his father planned to do about Merlin. Arthur nodded, barely the dip of his chin, but it seemed to be all Uther required to continue.
"Reports have arrived that this sorcerer was part of a larger band of insurgents who are now threatening our civilians in the far southeast corner of our border, attacking travellers as they attempt to make their way through the main roads." Uther took a breath, still eyeing his son carefully, as if he were about to say something that would elicit an unfavourable reaction from him. He continued. "I need you to take a group of your best knights and head down to our border to take care of this threat. You will leave at dawn tomorrow."
Arthur blinked, arms falling to his side. This was not at all what he'd been expecting upon being summoned. He swallowed heavily, nodding his head, thoughts swirling around in his mind. "Yes, my lord," he murmured, even as thoughts of Merlin continued to dance through his consciousness. He dared not ask if his manservant was coming with him, knew that it was about as likely as Uther letting him walk out of the dungeons a free man, but he still had to fight back the urge to make the request anyway.
Upon agreeing to the task, Uther waved a hand dismissively, indicating that Arthur could now take his leave, before leaning forward and burying his face in documents once more. Arthur dipped his head reverently before turning on his heel and preparing to head back to his chambers.
Just as he made it to the doorway, Uther called his name. Arthur turned, expression guarded. "We will deal with the other matter upon your return," he said, voice cool and impassive.
Arthur set his jaw and said nothing as he took his leave of the king.
---------------------------------------
Continue on to part four.
Author: Mel (accordingtomel)
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to and including 2x13
Word Count: 90,521
Disclaimer: Sadly, they are not mine and I do not own them, much as I might like to.
Art Link: Right here. But please note: THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR THE FIC IN THE ART!
Author’s Note: See part one.
Part Two
Typically, there were only two places where executions in Camelot were held. The vast majority occurred in the main courtyard, as it afforded the opportunity to make a public display of the punishment doled out to those who chose to practice magic in the kingdom, a spectacle and warning alike for the masses. But there were times when, for political (and once or twice, personal) reasons, an execution was held in the smaller courtyard behind the castle. It lacked the dramatic flair and swell of inbred fear that openly accessible executions often brought forth, but it served its own purpose, especially in cases where there was effort to actually hide the execution from the public eye.
Arthur harboured no doubt whatsoever that his father had purposely chosen to access the inner courtyard for this particular execution, not the least of those reasons being that his chambers faced the main courtyard, and there would be no way to hide the intent of Uther's actions if carried out directly under Arthur's nose. No, Arthur was undeniably confident that he knew his father well enough to recognise the fact that by moving up the time and altering the location, he believed he could take care of the 'Merlin problem' before Arthur even awoke for the day. Except for the minor detail that Uther was painfully unaware of the fact that killing Merlin would also kill his son, a reveal Arthur was greatly dreading, now that it occurred to him that confrontation was just on the horizon.
He sprinted at a steady pace, taking every shortcut he knew of, and ignoring any surprised exclamations or questions from confused castle-dwellers as he passed. Arthur silently thanked the gods that he was in peak physical condition, because the castle was not small, and the trip from Gaius' chambers to the courtyard out back was far longer than one would anticipate. When he finally burst out from one set of back doors, he could see a small group of people, mostly guards and council members, gathered several hundred feet away, his father among the numbers. Arthur knew by virtue of still being alive and breathing that Merlin had not yet been executed, but he had no way of knowing how imminent that course of action was, so Arthur did the only thing he knew of to put a halt to everything.
"Stop!" he hollered, voice booming in the silence of the early morning as he raced into the courtyard at top speed. "Stop!"
All eyes fell to Arthur as he entered the execution area, eyes wild, hair flying in every direction, panting with exertion. He darted past the slew of guards that separated him from Merlin -- was surprised when no one attempted to prevent him from getting closer -- and found himself face-to-face with Merlin, tied to a pole up on an unlit pyre, looking for the world like he'd already died, at least in spirit. Relief washed over him like a wave, despite the guilt that clenched at his chest like a vice at the sight of Merlin looking so helpless, and he crumpled forward, hands coming to rest on his knees as he sucked a few deep breaths into his oxygen-deprived lungs.
"Arthur. What are you doing here?" Arthur righted himself and turned to face the harsh tone of his father. Uther stood with hands on his hips, face twisted into a scowl, but for his part, he didn't appear as surprised to see Arthur as would have been expected.
Arthur pointedly ignored the question, stepping purposefully between his father and Merlin before addressing Uther. "Why are you out here now? I thought the execution was scheduled for noon," he growled out, barely able to keep from wincing at the word 'execution'.
"I decided that it was in Camelot's best interest to move up the scheduled execution time," Uther said, voice cutting like the blade of a knife.
Arthur knew it was a lie as much as his father did, but he wasn't sure that calling him on it was the wisest course of action at the moment. "You wanted me out of the way," Arthur stated matter-of-factly, not as an accusation or a question, but simply as a known truth, impressed with his own show of restraint in light of the current situation. He was playing a dangerous game here, and Arthur was acutely aware that there was still the distinct possibility that both he and Merlin would end up dead within the hour anyway.
Uther shook his head, shooting a disparaging look in his son's direction, as if he saw his weakness and pitied him for it. "There is nothing you can do to prevent this from happening. I know you care for the boy, but he made his choice when he broke Camelot's laws, and he must suffer those consequences."
"Had Merlin not intervened, I would be the one dead right now. He dies because I live," Arthur pointed out, feeling a renewed wave of anger wash over him at the blind stupidity of his father. How had he never realised the inherently flawed logic in the king's viewpoint before was a testament to how strongly Uther had the people brainwashed into thinking that all sorcery was evil and wrong.
"Get him out of here," Uther commanded with a casual flick of the wrist, and instantly, two guards had Arthur in a veritable death grip. He hadn't seen who they were, but instinctively suspected they were some of his knights, brain already calculating how to get out from their hold on him.
Arthur began struggling the instant they attempted to remove him from the area, twisting his arms and shoulders, and endeavouring to elbow one or both of them square in the chest. But their hold on him was surprisingly forceful, and in spite of his best efforts, Arthur found himself being dragged back anyway.
"You can't do this," Arthur shouted, even though he was still only mere feet away from his father. He was only vaguely aware of how ridiculous he must look at the moment, but didn't particularly care.
Uther pointedly ignored Arthur's outburst, folding his arms across his chest and turning his head away from Arthur, very clearly sending the message that I am King and this is my decision alone to make. Nothing you say can possibly make me change my mind..
"If you kill Merlin, you'll also condemn me to death," he announced loudly, boring a hole into the side of his father's forehead as he continued to struggle against the guards.
That caught Uther's attention, whipping his face back to meet Arthur's angry expression, reflecting a similar sentiment in the prince's direction. "What are you talking about?" Uther questioned, sounding completely unmoved, but taking the bait all the same.
Before Arthur had time to talk himself out of this incredibly rash action -- reminding himself that he'd already committed the offense; this was merely the confession stage of the game -- he blurted out the secret that'd been his alone up until this point. "I bonded my soul to Merlin's; if you kill him, then I will die too."
The announcement resulted in an eruption of shocked cries from those present in the courtyard, particularly the few present council members. He heard Merlin's audible gasp from somewhere behind his shoulder, but he ignored the desire to react, to apologise for lying and explain his actions; however, Merlin was the least of his concerns at the moment. If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead on the spot as Uther rounded on him, posture and expression reflecting every ounce of cold, unadulterated fury that radiated from every pore of his body. The two guards still holding him in a deadlock seemed to unconsciously loosen their grasps on him simultaneously, and Arthur used this opportunity to shake them off. Unsurprisingly, neither attempted to grab hold of him once more.
"What did you say?" Uther demanded, voice low and dangerous, accentuating every word. Even the scar that ran across his forehead seemed to thrum and pulsate with rage, and for one of the first times in his life, Arthur actually feared his father.
Nonetheless, he knew he was in too deep to back out now. It was all or nothing, at this point. "I said, you can't kill Merlin because his soul is bonded to mine. If you kill him, you'll kill me too," Arthur repeated calmly, tone belying the sheer terror that threatened to consume him.
"You're lying," Uther bit out through clenched teeth, but Arthur shook his head.
"I'm not."
"I don't believe you," Uther nearly growled. "You know better than that. You of all people would never defy me like that. You'd never use magic." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Arthur, and the cold fury staring back at Arthur sent a chill down his spine.
Suddenly Uther lunged forward, grabbing Arthur's tunic and shaking him forcefully, hands fisting as his wild eyes filled with equal parts rage and betrayal. "Stop lying to me," he hollered, the sound reverberating throughout the otherwise quiet morning air, and for a brief moment, Arthur thought Uther might just kill him right on the spot anyway. Any other sounds faded out of existence, those witness to the scene before them held their breaths in collective anticipation of what was about to happen. But just when it seemed as though Uther would lose his last shred of control, something seemed to click -- Arthur witnessed the minor shift in his father's countenance, even as he shook him to his core -- and he shoved Arthur backwards, taking a purposeful step away from his son. Arthur nearly lost his balance, struggling to right himself without falling over, and he watched his father carefully for his reaction. He had no doubt that by taking this course of action, Arthur had damaged their relationship -- possibly permanently -- but he still saw no other course of action, and did not regret anything; at least not yet.
Silence stretched in the air between them for what felt like minutes, though was likely only a few seconds, vehement tension swelling in the air all around and between father and son, neither choosing to speak again.
"I wasn't lying," Arthur finally told him softly, as he began to come down off of his adrenaline high, voice shaking in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, and he found he could no longer meet his father's enraged gaze, felt the fury and the betrayal and the disappointment without having to see it, scorched forever into his memory.
"You will be sorry that you ever did this, make no mistake," Uther hissed at him, before ordering the guards to take both Merlin and Arthur to the dungeons and striding away.
Arthur groaned, leaning his head against the wall he was propped against, and closed his eyes. He was really starting to regret not planning this out better beforehand. Sure, Merlin was alive and well -- for now; who knew what would happen to them both in the next twenty-four hours -- but Arthur desperately needed to talk to him, and he didn't have the faintest idea of how to make that happen. Uther was enraged, and if Arthur were a betting man, he'd wager good money on the likelihood that his father would do everything in his power to keep Arthur as far away from Merlin as possible.
Trying to break out of here was pointless, he knew. Arthur wouldn't be able to set foot past his cell door without being stopped by a slew of guards; Uther had made sure of that much. And even if he somehow managed to take them all out with his physical prowess -- though Arthur wasn't so arrogant to think he could take on that many knights at once, unarmed -- by the time he reached Merlin's cell, they'd maybe have four to five minutes, at the most in which to speak. It wasn't enough.
So he sat, angry and frustrated and thoughtful, attempting to figure out a solution to this impossible situation.
It took a good fifteen minutes before he was struck with an idea that was even remotely feasible. In reality, it was by all practical standards ridiculous, and with a very slim chance of success. Still, it was an idea, nonetheless, and that was worth at least pursuing to the end. The other day -- it felt like years ago now -- when he and Gaius had discussed what, exactly, it meant to bond his soul to someone else's, something he'd said hadn't meant much to him at the time. But now, whilst he was contemplating ways of getting into Merlin's cell, or vice versa, that seemingly inconsequential comment held hope for a potential solution to their current predicament. Gaius had told him that sometimes there was some sort of emotional bond, in which 'the bonded feel elements of each other's emotions and moods, sometimes thoughts'; but it was the 'thoughts' part of his claim that now piqued Arthur's interest.
Arthur pushed himself into standing from the floor, dusting off the back of his trousers as he made his way towards the cell door. "Leon?" Arthur called out, rattling the bars just enough to make noise, but not too much to rouse anyone's suspicions. He waited a second, maybe two, then repeated the action of shaking the bars and yelling for Leon. Arthur was a knight himself, had spent many nights guarding prisoners in the past, and so he knew full well that there would be at least two -- likely more than that, given the circumstances -- knights standing within earshot of the cell door. Why he chose Leon, Arthur wasn't entirely sure, except that he seemed to be sympathetic to this whole situation, and Arthur would need a sympathetic individual -- and one he trusted -- if he hoped to make this long shot a possibility.
Arthur was about to try for a third round when he heard shuffling in the distance. Releasing the bars, Arthur took a step away from them, absently kicking at a small stone on the floor, while he waited for a guard to appear. It was Hector who eventually showed up outside his cell door, apprehension apparent in his posture.
"He's not here, sire," Hector informed him; not terse, but lacking in the usual zeal his youngest knight was prone to display.
"Do you know where he is?" Arthur asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest.
Hector hesitated for a second, casting a quick glance behind him before responding. "He stepped out for a moment. Is there something I can help you with, sire?"
Arthur simply shook his head. "No. But please inform Sir Leon I need to speak with him upon his return," he instructed, knowing full well that even though he was the prince, his words held less weight from behind the bars of a prison cell. Still, Arthur was counting on Hector's loyalty to him to at least pass along the message to Leon and he hoped he wouldn't have to wait long.
Time stilled, as it often did when one was waiting for something particularly important, and Arthur eventually ceased his pacing to take a seat on the cold stone floor at the back of the cell. He wanted to appear as in control as possible when Leon did arrive -- if he arrived, though Arthur was praying he would.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was more realistically no more than ten to fifteen minutes, he heard the familiar click of his cell door, eyes jumping up to watch Leon as he cautiously took a step past the threshold.
"Leon." Arthur beckoned him into the cell, remaining fully seated, lest Leon get any ideas about what he might want and bolt.
Leon looked pained as he edged forward with a measure of trepidation, and Arthur hadn't even said anything to him yet. His concern and understanding over this whole debacle made Arthur wonder if Leon, too, didn't have some of his own secrets to hide. "I need to ask something of you," he stated plainly. Arthur saw little value in beating around the bush with this particular request; either he agreed to it or he didn't, plain and simple.
A single brow arched high on Leon's head, inquiring, waiting.
"I need you to bring a message to Merlin for me," he said, solemn. "It's incredibly important."
"Sire, surely you know that's an unwise request," Leon began to protest, tossing a quick look over his shoulder as if to ensure no one had heard anything. He took a few more tentative steps towards Arthur.
"I'm aware," Arthur said, waving Leon further into the room, and he lumbered over to where Arthur sat on the dirty floor. "However, I desperately need to get a message to him, and I unfortunately don't happen to be in a situation where I'm able to do that at the moment."
For all his height and status, Leon appeared as nervous and awkward as a teenage boy about to be caught by his parents for doing something illicit, if his jittery fidgeting all of a sudden was any indication. "Sire, I'm not sure --"
Arthur nodded, holding up a hand. "Leon, I know I'm asking something that I have no right to ask of you, and if you don't feel comfortable doing so, I understand and will not hold it against you. You've always been one of the most honourable knights I know, and so I will respect your decision."
Leon hesitated, looking torn. Frowning, he knelt down and leaned towards Arthur, speaking deliberately and with a hushed voice. "I have orders to report anything you request directly back to the king. He will know you asked to speak with me and will demand the details surrounding our conversation." Leon swallowed, pressed his lips together.
"I won't ask you to lie," Arthur assured him, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, kindly squeezing the muscles beneath his fingers.
But Leon shook his head, eyes wide. "I didn't say I wasn't going to do it. I just need to know what you want me to tell your father."
Leon's loyalty and faithfulness were truly remarkable, and Arthur vowed to remember this in the future and reward him for it. He always knew that there was something unique about one of his most seasoned knights, but it was only now that he was beginning to truly understand what that was. Arthur couldn't help the thankful smile that graced his features. "You can tell my father that I wanted an update on how Merlin was doing, and if you tell me now, then you wouldn't be lying to him."
Leon nodded in understanding. "He's tired, but otherwise fine, sire," he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. Lowering his voice, he added, "What message did you wish me to bring him?"
Arthur chanced a peek over Leon's shoulder, just to ensure no one was loitering around the cell entrance, but he nearly pressed his mouth to Leon's ear anyway. "I just need you to tell him: Listen to me."
Leon cocked his head to the side, brows furrowing in confusion. "That's it?"
Arthur nodded. "He'll understand. I hope. Just tell him that for me, and you will have my eternal gratitude."
"'Listen to me'," Leon repeated, and Arthur indicated his assent.
"Yes."
"All right." And then he was gone.
Arthur smiled, hopeful.
*****
Hope was beginning to fade as time wore on, and the more he thought about it, the more he was beginning to believe that this plan was utter rubbish. Who was he kidding? He was relying on little more than a flight of fancy and his own skewed interpretation of Gaius’ words. Still, if there was any chance at all, even if the odds were one in a million, it was worth pursuing until the end.
So Arthur paced back and forth for a while. And when he grew tired of that, opted to rest against one of the walls, all the while mentally chanting, 'Merlin? Merlin? Can you hear me, Merlin?' as a way of gaining the sorcerer's attention, with driven focus and careful attention. There was no reason for Arthur to actually believe that he would be able to communicate telepathically with Merlin, and yet it also wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility.
Still, several hours later, with no signs of success emerging on the horizon, Arthur was about ready to call this plan off and accept defeat. He now sat on the floor, back against a wall, shoulders slumped forward, knees bent, and arms resting atop his legs. Sleep actually threatened to overtake Arthur, and he felt downright dejected.
Arthur?
The address startled him, and Arthur practically jumped out of his skin at the sound, banging his head against the back wall and letting out a hiss of pain in the process. His eyes darted frantically around the room as his hand flew to grasp the back of his skull, massaging the area forcefully, absolutely certain he'd heard Merlin's voice, but a quick sweep of the cell indicated that there was nothing.
Arthur? the voice asked again, but this time it sounded more internal, as if Merlin were speaking into his brain instead of being physically present in the room with him.
And then... then it suddenly dawned on him. 'Merlin?' Arthur thought, attempting to divert focus from the throbbing pain at the top of his skull to the current, and far more pressing, situation.
Yes, it's me.
'You can hear me?' he asked, still not believing that his idea had actually come to fruition.
There was a pause, and for a moment Arthur thought he might have been imagining the whole thing. But then Merlin's utterly baffled reply arrived, Erm, yes. But I'm not sure how, exactly.
Arthur nearly rolled his eyes, but then decided against it when it occurred to him that Merlin couldn't see him anyway. 'Really, Merlin? You can't figure out how we're communicating telepathically? I thought even you might be able to solve that one.' Arthur hadn’t intended on starting this conversation off by insulting him, but there was something comforting in knowing that amidst all the insanity of their lives at the moment, they could still fall back on their old, familiar pattern.
Prat, Merlin complained, but Arthur could almost feel the hint of amusement in his tone, and the sound filled him with an unexplainable sense of contentment. I know it's through magic, but how are we able to do it, I mean?
'I think it has to do with our bond,' Arthur thought, still reeling at the idea that he was actually conversing with Merlin without him being in the room. This ability could come in handy later, though he supposed it could also potentially wind up causing trouble. They'd have to have a conversation about this new talent at some point in the future, provided they were both still alive to do so, of course. 'Gaius said something about being able to sense each other's feelings and mood and thoughts. I just went on that theory, but I never expected it would actually work.'
Oh. Silence stretched between them for several long moments. Why did you do it, Arthur? Merlin eventually asked.
'I assume you're talking about the soul bonding thing,' Arthur replied. He climbed up off the floor and made his way towards the bed instead. It looked uncomfortable and filthy, but Arthur's arse was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long, and he dropped his resolve to avoid the bed at all costs. Anything had to be better than the dirty, hard floor, he reasoned, as he settled down on the mattress, face turned towards the black ceiling above.
You could have died. He sounded upset.
Arthur huffed audibly, though he knew it wouldn't resonate into their mental conversation. 'So could you. It was the only option I had.'
Risking your life to save mine? You had to trick me, because you knew I wouldn't do it, didn't you?
'Well, was I wrong?'
No. I wouldn't have, Merlin said, sounding hurt all of a sudden. I haven't spent the last two years watching over your princely arse to have you go down in flames with me, you know. Something about that statement nicked at his pride -- as if he, the Crown Prince of Camelot, needed a servant to protect him -- but he shoved down the feeling in favour of continuing the current conversation.
'Actually, I don't know, since you decided to omit the minor detail that you were a sorcerer all this time,' Arthur retorted, in spite of himself, a small spike of anger sparking in his gut, though the immediate pang of regret that surfaced came as a bit of a shock. He’d been lied to and deceived for an incredibly lengthy period of time, and what was worse, it’d been by someone he trusted explicitly; a close friend. And yet, any logical argument that Arthur could supply his brain with about how he had every right to be furious with Merlin was tossed to the wind when he considered the other possibilities. A life without Merlin felt like... Well, it felt akin to fighting a war without armour, of riding across the country without a horse, or sunbathing while it was raining -- all irrational, ridiculous and nearly impossible, unbelievably sentimental as the feeling was. Arthur wasn’t sure exactly when or how it’d happened, but somehow Merlin had burrowed into his life, claiming a piece of him, a part in his world, and all he knew was that he couldn’t fathom living without him any longer. His reaction to the whole situation was probably telling enough.
I know. I'm so sorry about that. But you have to understand that I didn't have a choice. I wanted to tell you so many times and in so many different ways, but I just never could. Merlin hesitated, and for some reason Arthur felt a sense of dread at the impending words. I was scared that you'd hate me or turn me over to your father, and then I wouldn't be able to stick around to protect you. This seemed like the only safe course of action.
Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He contemplated for several moments on how to respond to that. There was no way of knowing how he might have responded back in the earlier days of their relationship, when they were still building that trust in one another, but Arthur was quite certain he never would have hated Merlin, no matter how angry he'd been.
'I understand what you did. Or at least I think I do,' he amended. Arthur let his arm drop to rest at his side, hand landing across his stomach, and he splayed his fingers across the soft fabric of his tunic. 'I won't lie and say that it doesn't sting -- that you felt you couldn't trust me with this piece of yourself -- but I believe you when you say you wanted to tell me. And I suppose I would've probably done the same thing, if the situation had been reversed.' He wanted to add more, about never being able to hate Merlin, but somehow that felt like too capacious of an admission at this point, especially when he considered the fact that this realisation had only just dawned on him as well. Instead, he added, 'I don't hate you, though.'
Merlin let out a relieved chuckle, more nervous than humorous, making Arthur wonder how he was able to do that. I'm glad to hear that. A beat passed, and then, You can tell your father that I forced you to do it. That way he won't take it out on you, and when we break the bond -- something flip-flopped in his belly at the suggestion of breaking their bond, though he had no idea why -- you won't have to suffer the consequences of going against your father.
Arthur sighed, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. 'Merlin, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but that completely defeats the purpose of what I did,' he said. 'I'm the one who tricked you, and I was more than ready to suffer the consequences of my actions.'
Even if those consequences involved death?
Arthur swallowed thickly. 'Yes,' he answered honestly, the full weight of that admission hitting him square in the chest at that very moment. This was not the first time Arthur had risked his life for Merlin, and probably wouldn't be the last, but this was different than those previous scenarios, somehow. Arthur didn't want to think about it too much, otherwise the obvious truth of the act might force him to admit that Merlin meant more to him than he was willing to own up to. There was, of course, the added fact that Uther would not kill Merlin while he was bonded to Arthur, but that still didn’t diminish the action he’d taken.
'Look, Merlin,' Arthur thought, purposely steering the direction of the conversation back to the way he'd originally intended, ignoring the prodding voice at the back of his mind that reminded him he couldn't ignore this forever. 'I wanted to talk to you. I need to know every time you've used magic in the past couple of years.'
There was silence for a beat. Every time?
'Yes, Merlin, that's what I just said.'
Arthur wasn’t sure what Merlin was referring to, exactly, though he thought it might explain a few things, if he'd been using magic to do his chores, for example. Like how Arthur's armour was always perfectly spotless in an unreasonably short amount of time, or how his bath water was always hot, no matter how long it took Merlin to haul it up to his chambers. 'Every time that my father might care,' he clarified.
All right, as long as you’re sure.
Arthur nodded into the darkness.
*****
The plan had been to listen, to hear what Merlin had to say and to interrupt as infrequently as possible. This information was not only significant to Arthur, as every truth he'd accepted over the past two years was suddenly being ripped apart and transformed into something entirely different, but it had the additional significance of being factual information that could potentially be used in Merlin's defence. Not that Uther's tyranny had ever been snuffed out before, but for every impossible situation Arthur'd faced in the past and arose victorious, he hadn't yet given up hoping for miracles.
So, with that intention, Arthur listened to what Merlin had to say, commenting fairly frequently, but keeping most of his thoughts in check. Merlin shared how he’d used magic to trip Arthur up during their first actual fight and to save Arthur’s life, which, admittedly, Arthur thought was kind of impressive in a treasonous sort of way. He spoke of Valiant and the shield, and how he’d stayed up all night to learn the spell he needed to use to animate Valiant’s shield and prevent Arthur’s death. Even within the first few minutes of their conversation, the common theme emerging seemed to be that of Merlin saving Arthur’s life, and he felt conflicted about what this all meant, exactly.
It actually came as a surprise to Arthur when Merlin shared he knew the dragon, and how it had spoken of their “destiny” time and time again.
‘So are you telling me that you spent time with the dragon?’
Yes, he replied. He called me when I first arrived in Camelot. Erm, he also sort of helped me many times over the past couple of years. Somewhat.
‘The same dragon that attacked Camelot?’ Arthur pressed, frowning slightly.
There was an unidentified lilt to Merlin’s voice, for just a second. Yes, it was the same one.
Of course it had been the same dragon. His father made it clear that there’d been only one remaining dragon, just as there’d only been one remaining Dragonlord. Now there was none of either, but still... A light in the back of Arthur’s mind flickered, as though there was something more significant about this information, but he stored it in his mental file as an area to investigate further at a later point in time, and encouraged Merlin to continue.
He listened as Merlin spoke of how he’d only been trying to help Gwen and her father, but had ended up getting her arrested for sorcery instead. Arthur cringed a little at the memory of arresting Guinevere without thought, when a few hours later, he’d stood in front of his father and defended Merlin from the same charges. Arthur was beginning to realise that he might have always been a bit protective of Merlin when they reached the part of his story where he’d gone off to find the Mortaeus flower. Alone. Against his father’s wishes. It wouldn’t be the last time he disobeyed his father for Merlin’s sake, but something about this particular incident felt significant in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Something dawned on Arthur a moment later. 'Wait, you mean to tell me that you were the one who guided me out of the cave with that glowing blue orb thing?'
Er, yeah... Merlin said, sounding almost sheepish. I wasn't even really aware of what was going on around me, but apparently I was mumbling things in my sleep and then I conjured up the light.
‘How is that even possible?’ Arthur wondered, toying with the idea in his mind. ‘I mean, how would you even have known I was in danger?’
There was silence on Merlin’s end for a moment, and Arthur could almost imagine him shrugging his shoulders. I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe we’ve always had a sort of bond, or connection, or something.
Arthur’d heard stranger things before, so he didn’t bother pressing the issue.
Merlin continued to tell him about Lancelot -- which suddenly caused a number of things to fall into place in Arthur’s brain -- and then Edwin, and how Merlin had saved Uther’s life when he’d tried to exact his revenge. The fact that Merlin had used his magic to save the king was incredibly significant, and Arthur felt an underlying sense of sorrow for his father’s ignorance and hatred rise in his throat.
It came as far less of a surprise when Merlin shared that Arthur had been enchanted by a love spell. He’d always suspected something was off about that business with Sophia, but he’d never quite been able to make sense of the situation until now. It also explained why Arthur remembered nothing of the ridiculous story Merlin and Gaius had fed him after the fact.
He’d found a small piece of flint stone under the bed earlier, and rolling over, Arthur reached for it. Fingering the small stone, rough edges digging into the pads of his fingers, Arthur started to make small marks on the wall beside his head, tracking every time Merlin had saved his or his father’s life. He was up to six already.
‘Just to clarify,’ Arthur jumped in a little while later, when Merlin spoke of some sword the dragon had forged for him, ‘the dragon breathed some sort of magical fire onto a sword that was made specifically for me?’
Yes.
‘Then my father used the sword to defeat the undead knight?’
That’s correct.
‘And then, instead of giving it to me, you... threw it in a lake?’
Arthur could practically feel the blush creeping up Merlin’s face. Um... yes?
He closed his eyes, sighing, the barest hint of a smile creeping up on his lips. ‘Just checking.’
The first time Arthur actually became upset was towards the end of Merlin's exposition about the Questing Beast.
'What the hell is wrong with you?' he demanded, feeling the anger rise in his chest. He'd started pacing the cell about ten minutes prior, restless energy needing an outlet as training with his knights was currently out of the question. Merlin's penchant for heroic suicidal acts was starting to really get to him. Arthur didn't understand why he seemed to value Arthur's life above his own, especially when Arthur had, on numerous occasions, proven that he was willing to die for Merlin, the current situation withstanding. Arthur may have been born into privilege and rank, while Merlin had far more humble beginnings, but that'd never mattered much to Merlin in all the time Arthur had known him. And slowly, the class difference between nobles and servants lost most of their effect on Arthur as well, reluctant as he was to even acknowledge that to himself.
I couldn't let you die, came the responding protest. There was no other option that I could see.
'So, naturally, the only thing to do was offer up your own life. Of course no one would've noticed your mysterious disappearance,' Arthur said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
There was a pregnant pause. To be honest, not many would have. Gaius, Gwen and Morgana. Possibly a couple of the other servants. And you, I'd assume. Arthur tried not to scoff. Merlin really did have a mental affliction, he decided then and there. There was no other explanation that he could see. But I'm nothing in this whole equation if you're not alive, he finished.
'And if our destinies are so entwined, as you adamantly claim they are, then tell me how, exactly, I'm supposed to fulfill that destiny with you being dead?'
There was no answer for a moment, and Arthur felt secure in the knowledge that he'd made his point. Merlin sighed, sounding tired, but Arthur couldn't let this go just yet. Wisps of a conversation, long since abandoned as being insignificant began to float back to him then, this newfound knowledge casting a whole new light on the memory. ‘That day,’ he started, twisting the idea around in his head, even as he struggled to sort through the information. ‘That day when you came to me and told me that I’d make a fine king some day but insisted that I needed to learn how to listen, then proceeded to call me a prat -- I always thought there was something off about that conversation. You were saying good-bye, weren’t you? Getting ready to go off to die.’ It was accusatory, at best, but Arthur was upset with the knowledge that Merlin had simply forfeited his life for Arthur like that, and no one would have ever known. Except, save maybe Gaius, who likely wouldn’t have said anything anyway.
No answer I give is going to make you any less angry, Merlin said a few moments later. But you’re right -- I did come to say good-bye. I thought it was better than nothing at all.
It didn’t matter, really, that he hadn’t actually died in the end, was still alive and well, all things considered. What mattered was that Merlin had done it more than once, offered his life up for Arthur’s, which meant he could just as easily do it again. There was something to be said for nobility and sacrifice and honour. Growing up as a prince, Arthur had learned at a young age that people were going to lay down their lives as a sacrifice for him, to protect their prince and future king, and he’d even come to terms with the fact. But it’d never been that way with Merlin. He saw right through Arthur, saw past the prince to the man beneath the public persona, and still cared about him anyway. He was offering up his life for Arthur the man, Arthur the friend, Arthur the equal. And even though Merlin’s perspective was a little off, his vision of the world not yet accepted amongst most people, his heart remained in the right place.
‘Well, you’re sure as hell not running off and sacrificing yourself for me at every chance you get any longer,’ Arthur ordered, leaving no room for debate.
I’m not allowing you to die if I can prevent it, was all he said in response.
‘I’m not allowing you to die either. So from now on, we discuss these sorts of things. Do I make myself clear?’ If they still had a future, Arthur’s brain pointed out helpfully.
If you’re expecting me to agree to this, then I think it needs to go both ways. You have a tendency to do the same thing, you know, Merlin pointed out, sounding a bit put-off by the whole conversation.
Arthur didn’t like the Merlin’s tactics, even while he recognised the truth of his words. But in the end he agreed anyway, because they had to move on.
Merlin reached the part of his story where he spoke of the witchfinder, Aredian, and even though he had been incredibly reckless with his magic, he sounded so distraught about what had nearly happened to Gaius that Arthur didn’t have the heart to scold him for it.
‘So what happened next?’ Arthur asked when Merlin fell quiet for an unusually long period of time.
A beat passed, and then two. Then, Look, Arthur. I'm, uh -- well, I'm feeling pretty exhausted here. Can we just, can we maybe leave the rest of the story for later? Merlin's tired voice suggested.
'But the more I know, the better ammunition I'll have against my father.'
I know... He trailed off. I'm sorry. I just don't think I can do this any longer. I’m tired, my head hurts, and I’m just... really tired... There was a broken element to his voice, and Arthur wondered what it was that Merlin didn't want to tell him. Still, the effect of maintaining the mental connection was actually beginning to make Arthur's head hurt as well, and he could only imagine what Merlin must've been experiencing. In the end, the saving of Arthur's life five versus fifty times might not have that huge of an impact on swaying Uther's decision, but he was quite sure that he at least had enough to make an argument at this point.
'All right,' Arthur agreed. 'But this conversation isn't over. We will carry on with it later.' If there was a later.
Thank you, Arthur.
Arthur nodded, closed his eyes, expelled a breath, trying to sort through all this new information. 'Just hang in there, Merlin,' he said at long last. And then there was silence once more.
Somewhere along the line, Arthur managed to drift off to sleep, the mental exhaustion from sustaining the telepathic connection with Merlin taking its toll on both his body and mind. While he slept, Arthur dreamed of all the adventures he and Merlin had shared in the past, but this time everything was different; there were no secrets, no hiding, no barriers between them. Merlin was Merlin and Arthur was Arthur, and something about it felt right.
Arthur awoke to the sound of his cell door creaking open. He cracked his eyes open, assessing the situation as he shifted from his back onto his side with an oomph, not quite realising how stiff he was until he attempted the manoeuvre. Two guards entered first -- he couldn't quite tell who they were as the room was far darker now, dim light casting deep shadows across their faces -- followed by Hector taking up the rear. In one hand he grasped a burning torch which illuminated the entire cell quite effectively; the other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at any moment.
"The king requests an audience with you, sire," the burly guard on the right -- Gawain -- informed him, dipping his head respectfully as he waited for Arthur to get up.
Arthur nodded, rolling off the bed with a distinct lack of his typical grace. He blamed the nearly rock-hard excuse for a bed he'd fallen asleep on, thinking it only slightly more bearable than sleeping on the floor. Arthur reached up to run a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it down and not appear as though he'd just been sound asleep as Gawain and -- now that he could see him properly -- Bedivere led him out of the dungeon.
*****
Arthur felt his muscles tense involuntarily as he was escorted into the throne room, instinctively preparing for the verbal, and possibly even physical, lashing that he knew his father was about to dole out. He bit back the swell of anger that arose in his chest once more at the thought of what he'd almost done to Merlin early this morning -- it felt like years had passed since this day began -- forcing his breathing to slow, and reminding himself that he needed to tread carefully. The room was quiet, thrumming with a silent intensity as he was led forward until they reached their destination, a multitude of candles flickering brightly against the back walls. It was no surprise to find Uther sitting at the throne, bent over a table covered in parchments, maps, and various other documents, brows furrowed and a frown firmly planted on his features. Uther startled slightly at their entrance into the room, but otherwise his gaze remained focused on whatever documents currently held his attention. He flipped through several papers, rummaging around for something at the corner of the table, and emitted a soft grunt upon locating what appeared to be the desired information.
Several moments passed as silence hung heavy, the single source of noise arising from the shuffling of paper and the pounding of Arthur's own heart hammering against his chest. Arthur felt quite sure that this was some sort of test, or possibly the beginning of what would likely later be described as his torturous punishment, but he was determined to wait his father out. If there was one thing he could be certain of, it was that Uther Pendragon always acted with purpose, and he hadn't summoned Arthur to simply have him stand in the throne room for an hour. There was a reason Arthur stood before his father, and he would wait as long as he needed to in order to face his consequences and begin to plan ahead for how he was going to get himself and Merlin out of this mess.
Arthur's frustration and impatience increased at every second that ticked by in which Uther devoted all of his attention to the documents lying in front of him, a million possibilities racing through his mind. Uther loved him fiercely, this much Arthur knew. He’d seen evidence time and time again of his father’s willingness to put his own life above Arthur’s. But at the same time, Uther’s hatred of magic ran deep, possibly as deep as his love for Arthur. The fact that Arthur had used magic against his father would not be something he took lightly or easily forgave, regardless of Uther’s love for him, and that made his reaction to this particular situation all the more unpredictable. One thing Arthur knew for sure was that his father was furious with him, but what that meant for them, for their relationship, was a significant unknown. Perhaps he would disinherit Arthur again, or maybe he would leave Merlin locked up in the dungeons until one of them passed away from old age. There were countless ways Uther could punish Arthur without doing anything to Merlin, and there was a large part of him that just wished his father would explode with the rage he felt so Arthur could move beyond this state of unknowing. However, he was no fool. Arthur had willingly used magic for his own means, but unlike his father, he was fully prepared to face the consequences of his actions, and would never lay blame upon others if things went awry.
Moments bled into minutes, time slowing so that every second that passed felt like an eternity as Arthur stood before his father, arms folded loosely across his chest, shoulders squared, jaw firmly set. When Uther eventually glanced up at Arthur, he wore a neutral expression, eyes cool and lips pressed together thoughtfully as he casually leaned back against his throne.
"As it turns out, the sorcerer claiming to be Lord Eyrbrich was actually an imposter," he said, voice betraying nothing more than the usual straightforwardness he possessed when sharing important information with the council. His gaze dropped to the table momentarily as he riffled through a few pages, returning his focus to Arthur immediately following the action, eyes impassive but assessing. "Lord Eyrbrich and his company were attacked on route to Camelot by a band of rogue bandits, one of whom happened to be a sorcerer with a grudge."
The information seemed to make a lot more sense in light of the events of the previous day, but nonetheless Arthur was taken aback slightly by this news all the same. The knowledge that he should care more about the fact that Camelot's alliance with Southumbria was still a possibility passed briefly through his mind, but the only real concern he had at the moment was what his father planned to do about Merlin. Arthur nodded, barely the dip of his chin, but it seemed to be all Uther required to continue.
"Reports have arrived that this sorcerer was part of a larger band of insurgents who are now threatening our civilians in the far southeast corner of our border, attacking travellers as they attempt to make their way through the main roads." Uther took a breath, still eyeing his son carefully, as if he were about to say something that would elicit an unfavourable reaction from him. He continued. "I need you to take a group of your best knights and head down to our border to take care of this threat. You will leave at dawn tomorrow."
Arthur blinked, arms falling to his side. This was not at all what he'd been expecting upon being summoned. He swallowed heavily, nodding his head, thoughts swirling around in his mind. "Yes, my lord," he murmured, even as thoughts of Merlin continued to dance through his consciousness. He dared not ask if his manservant was coming with him, knew that it was about as likely as Uther letting him walk out of the dungeons a free man, but he still had to fight back the urge to make the request anyway.
Upon agreeing to the task, Uther waved a hand dismissively, indicating that Arthur could now take his leave, before leaning forward and burying his face in documents once more. Arthur dipped his head reverently before turning on his heel and preparing to head back to his chambers.
Just as he made it to the doorway, Uther called his name. Arthur turned, expression guarded. "We will deal with the other matter upon your return," he said, voice cool and impassive.
Arthur set his jaw and said nothing as he took his leave of the king.
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Continue on to part four.