Merlin Fic: How Magic Returned to Camelot (11/?)
Title ~ How Magic Returned To Camelot (11/?)
Rating ~ 15+
Characters ~ Full cast, eventual Merlin/Arthur & some Gwen/Lancelot
Summary ~ It has been five years since Nimueh was defeated on the Isle of the Blessed, and all is well in Camelot. However, Morderd’s return on the eve of Uther’s sixtieth birthday sets in motion a chain of events that will change everything …
Warnings ~ Character death (in Chapter Six; not one of the main four). Angst.
Notes ~ Not compliant with Series 2 canon (therefore technically a future!AU). Huge thanks to ice_elf for the beta. See Index Post for further notes.
Disclaimer ~ Merlin belongs to the BBC and Shine.
Chapter Index can be found here.
Arthur did not arise to see Morgana leave. It wasn’t necessary, as he had snapped the night before when Merlin had asked. Merlin and Gaius were there at dawn, however, as was the captain of the Royal Guard, who was to officially oversee Morgana’s banishment.
The four guards who were to form Morgana’s escort were waiting by the gates; each wore light leather armour underneath his travelling cloak and held the reins of his chosen mount. The bulk of their belongings, along with most of Morgana’s things, would be sent on after them in the next few days, but the essentials had been packed onto a docile but swift mule, which had been tethered to Gwen’s palfrey.
Merlin’s palms felt sticky against the leather reins of both Gwen and Morgana’s horses. He had slept badly, kept awake by the dread of what was to happen when dawn came, and now irrational nerves and lack of sleep were making him jittery. Gaius laid a calming hand on his shoulder, but had no words of encouragement to offer.
Morgana emerged from the castle accompanied by Gwen and one of Arthur’s knights. Merlin knew Sir Dagonet only as a face to go with a name; he was not a recent addition to the court, but spent more time at his family home than in Camelot. He had a reputation for being fair and considerate to all in his care, however, and his face was kindly. He kept shooting Morgana subtle glances, as if checking that all was as well as could be expected with his subdued charge.
As they approached, Gaius took the reins from Merlin’s unresisting hands and nodded towards Gwen. Taking the hint, Merlin went over to his friend as she came to a halt beside her horse.
“Well,” he said quietly, trying to make his smile genuine. “I suppose this is it.”
“Maybe I’ll see you again,” Gwen replied, although she didn’t sound convinced. Merlin nodded anyway, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then he stepped forward and hugged Gwen tightly; she returned his embrace, leaning against his chest for a moment before pulling back to hold him at arm’s length. “You’ll take care of Arthur, won’t you?”
“Course I will,” he promised. He turned to look at Morgana, and found her already mounted. Her eyes were downcast, fixed upon the ground on the far side of her horse, but when he hesitantly touched her hand she looked at him. Her eyes were bright and rimmed with red, impossibly large in her pale, drawn face. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to wish you the best. Arthur’s angry - maybe when he’s cooled down -”
“Don’t speak up for me, Merlin,” she said softly but firmly. Her voice sounded harsh from lack of use, as if she had not spoken at all since her imprisonment. Her hand lashed out and she caught his wrist tightly. “Don’t ask him to change his mind.”
“But -”
“Promise me,” she insisted, leaning down so that she was closer to his level. She shot a furtive glance at Gwen and lowered her voice. “Don’t add to the burden already on my conscience by giving him an excuse to punish you, as well. I don’t want to see you hurt for my sake.”
Merlin nodded silently, although in his head he promised nothing. He would talk to Arthur about this again, in time, and try to convince him of Morgana’s relative innocence - but not until he was certain that doing so would not land him in trouble. Morgana gave him a searching look before she uncurled her fingers.
“Goodbye, Merlin,” she murmured. “Thank you - for everything.”
She turned to speak to Gaius, and Merlin walked around to stand at Gwen’s side, giving them a sliver of privacy. He patted the horse’s neck absently, trying to think of something to say that was not ‘goodbye’. Gwen nudged his shoulder with her foot.
“I’ll write to you,” she told him. Her smile was broad, but Merlin knew that it was just a little forced. Gwen didn’t want to go into exile any more than anyone else, but her sense of loyalty to Morgana would not allow her to leave her mistress. Merlin suspected that Morgana would try to send her away - often, probably - but Gwen could never leave her. The bond between mistress and maid was too strong - almost as strong as the one Merlin usually felt between himself and Arthur.
Since Uther’s death, however, Arthur had been a different man, unreadable even to his closest friends. An unknown quantity even to Merlin.
“I’ll write back,” Merlin replied, jerking himself out of his increasingly circular thoughts. It wasn’t like they were helping matters. He reached up and squeezed her hand, which was clutching the reins just a little too tightly - probably nerves - and tried to make his smile as natural as possible. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you …”
“Goodbye,” she replied, then quickly turned and clicked her tongue as she urged her horse into motion, turning the palfrey after Morgana, who had moved off a few seconds before.
Merlin watched them go. Before they turned the corner, Morgana turned and looked up in the direction of Arthur’s chambers, presumably checking the window, but did not smile or wave; she stared for a moment, expressionless, then turned away and carried on riding. Gwen, however, turned and waved to Merlin and Gaius as she followed her mistress out of sight. Merlin waited until the sound of hoofbeats had disappeared before he risked speech.
He cleared his throat; it sounded loud in the silence of the courtyard. “They’re gone.”
“Yes,” Gaius replied with a deep sigh. “Well, there’s nothing can be done now.”
Merlin did not comment. He knew that he could convince Arthur to bring Morgana, and by extension Gwen, back to Camelot; the difficulty was in timing and phrasing. He knew better than to try now, when the anger and hurt was still fresh, but later - perhaps in six months or a year, maybe two at the outside, when the pain of losing his father was no longer so sharp - Merlin knew that he could metaphorically twist Arthur’s arm. For now, though, he was helpless. He sighed deeply and turned to look up at Arthur’s windows.
There was a flicker of unexpected movement, and Merlin saw the curtains swinging as if they had been hastily pulled back into place across the glass. He frowned slightly, then jumped when Gaius laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d better get back to my work, and so had you,” he murmured. He looked older and more bent than ever, leaning heavily on his staff. Merlin gripped his shoulder in return, feeling a stab of concern for the old man, but let him walk back to his chambers unassisted.
“I’ll see you later,” he said as he made his way across the courtyard. He had to check on Arthur.
He decided to take his time on the way, however. If he was right in his assumption - if it had been Arthur himself twitching aside the curtains to see Morgana leave - he wanted to give him time to get into whatever position he wanted to be discovered in. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know that he had been watching, otherwise he would have been in the courtyard beside Merlin and Gaius; it didn’t take unbridled genius to work out that Arthur’s actions this morning were meant to be secret and undiscovered, and for the sake of his own skin Merlin decided to leave them that way.
Finally, after a detour to the kitchens to pick up a tray of breakfast, he knocked softly on the door to Arthur’s chambers. He slipped inside without waiting for an answer, as if he expected Arthur to be asleep, and feigned surprise when he found Arthur awake, although still in bed.
“Good morning,” he smiled, placing the tray of bread, honey and fruit down on the table. “You’re up early.”
“I’m not up yet,” Arthur sneered, although the words had no bite to them and there was a small smile playing over his lips. It was a shadow of their former banter, but Merlin was glad to have Arthur teasing him again. It was a good sign: a sign of things returning to normal, inch by painstaking inch.
“But you are awake, sire,” Merlin replied with a small grin, walking over to the cupboard and pulling it open. “And I know how you hate lying in bed when it’s unnecessary.”
Behind him, Arthur let out a deep sigh, as if he resented his manservant for knowing him as well as he did, but Merlin heard him climb out of bed and pad across to the screen to change. He selected a red tunic and dark trousers, then walked across and slung them over the top of the screen. He had barely turned to bring Arthur his belt when he was called back.
“Not today,” Arthur said, dragging the trousers off the top of the screen and throwing his nightshirt over in their place. “Get me one of the black ones.”
Merlin hesitated for a moment, but did not argue. He carefully took both nightshirt and tunic and went back to the cupboard. Inside, a whole shelf had been set aside for Arthur’s mourning clothes; from that shelf, Merlin chose a black tunic and carried it across. Instead of flinging it over the screen, he unfolded it and held it around the side.
Arthur took it from him with a quiet “Thank you.” After a moment’s pause, he cautiously asked, “You saw Morgana leave?”
“Yes,” Merlin told him; there was no point in lying about it, and it wasn’t as if Arthur had forbidden it. He cleared his throat, fiddling with the sleeves of his battered jacket. “Gwen left with her.”
“Did she say anything?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s last statement so thoroughly that he felt his fingers curl involuntarily into angry fists. He took a steadying breath and forced himself not to snap.
“No, nothing, sire,” he reported dutifully. Nothing he felt like reporting to Arthur, in any case. Arthur came out from behind the screen and went over to the table, not looking at his manservant at all. Without sitting, he poked at the food on the tray without much interest.
Finally he turned and leant back against the edge of the table, his arms folding protectively across his chest. Still he did not look at Merlin, but he did say, “I’m sorry about Gwen.”
There was genuine regret in his voice. Merlin felt the prickle of anger subside. “She chose to go.”
“I could have someone go after them and bring her back,” Arthur offered simply.
Merlin looked up sharply - angry again, that Arthur could suggest it when he knew how close Morgana and Gwen were, when he ought to know that it would be cruel - and saw Arthur’s apologetic, starkly vulnerable expression. He wanted to make something right, Merlin realised. He had made so many mistakes lately - breaking his relationship with Morgana; failing to catch his father’s killer; allowing his father’s safety to be compromised in the first place; and now causing Gwen to leave and so depriving Merlin of one of his few friendships - and he had suddenly spotted something he could repair. His motives were in the right place, but Merlin forced himself to shake his head.
“No - it was her decision, and she wanted to go,” he said. He looked down at the floor. “I would do the same, and I would hardly thank my friends for stopping me.”
“You would go into exile?” Arthur asked almost in disbelief. The further question, ‘for me?’ remained unspoken, but Merlin didn’t need to hear it to understand what Arthur meant.
Merlin knew that Arthur needed reassurance and loyalty now more than ever, but the fact that he even had to ask disconcerted him. He had almost always been willing to die for Arthur. Initially, he had told himself that it was for the future of Camelot, but he was under no such illusions now; it was Arthur, not the destiny he stood for. Exile was nothing in comparison.
Before, Arthur had known that instinctively, and the fact that he needed it reaffirmed told Merlin just how vulnerable Uther’s death had left him.
He looked up slowly and met Arthur’s nervous gaze before he nodded. He felt his heart beat once, twice, three times before Arthur finally broke the eye contact with a snort and a shake of his head.
“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”
Merlin flashed him a grin and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak there came a knock at the door. Arthur barely had time to invite them to enter when the doors burst open and one of the knights tumbled into the room.
“Sire! My apologies, but one of the men sent with Lady Morgana as an escort has just returned - badly injured,” he said in a rush. The moment he finished, Arthur started for the door, waving at Merlin to follow him and catching the knight’s arm as he passed, pulling him along beside him.
“Tell me.”
“He says they were attacked a short way outside of Camelot. They were outnumbered, and once he was injured he was sent back by Dagonet,” the knight reported as they half-ran down the corridors. Merlin realised suddenly that Arthur was heading towards the armoury. “They put a few more arrows in him as he rode away. The man passed out, and was taken to the Physician - I doubt he will survive.”
“Go and rouse the knights - I want ten ready to leave as soon as possible, and the rest ready to ride out as reinforcements. Alert the stables to have our horses ready,” Arthur ordered, releasing the knight’s arm. He peeled off down a side corridor, but Merlin jogged after Arthur.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked as Arthur barged into the empty armoury and snatched a padded tunic. He went to get the chainmail anyway, knowing that his objections would fall on deaf ears. “You’ve not eaten, and you’re the king -”
“I know,” Arthur snapped, snatching the chainmail and shooing Merlin away. He pulled it over his head himself; Merlin grabbed the armour for Arthur’s right shoulder and arm and brought it over. As he buckled the pauldron onto his shoulder, Arthur fastened the vambrace onto his arm. Merlin has just started on the second buckle when he said quietly, “I can’t let bandits murder Morgana.”
Merlin carried on strapping Arthur’s armour to him mechanically; after five years of arming him before various tournaments and skirmishes, he could complete the process without needing to think. “You could just send your men?”
“Not when I sent her into their hands myself,” Arthur told him firmly. Merlin stood and looked into Arthur’s face, lined with determination. For a moment, they stared at one another; then Merlin turned and went to fetch another piece of armour.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, Merlin.”
“Yes, Arthur!” he insisted. Arthur opened his mouth to argue further, but Merlin cut him off. “Even if you forbid it, I’ll come anyway.”
Arthur’s mouth snapped shut. He glared at his manservant. “I suppose you will,” he conceded reluctantly. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
“Same to you,” Merlin replied, fastening the final buckle and slapping Arthur’s shoulder firmly. He took Arthur’s sword from a rack and held it out to him. The king took it from him and carefully slid the scabbard onto his belt. Then with a final nod to Merlin he grabbed his helmet and stalked out of the armoury.
.
Rating ~ 15+
Characters ~ Full cast, eventual Merlin/Arthur & some Gwen/Lancelot
Summary ~ It has been five years since Nimueh was defeated on the Isle of the Blessed, and all is well in Camelot. However, Morderd’s return on the eve of Uther’s sixtieth birthday sets in motion a chain of events that will change everything …
Warnings ~ Character death (in Chapter Six; not one of the main four). Angst.
Notes ~ Not compliant with Series 2 canon (therefore technically a future!AU). Huge thanks to ice_elf for the beta. See Index Post for further notes.
Disclaimer ~ Merlin belongs to the BBC and Shine.
Chapter Index can be found here.
Arthur did not arise to see Morgana leave. It wasn’t necessary, as he had snapped the night before when Merlin had asked. Merlin and Gaius were there at dawn, however, as was the captain of the Royal Guard, who was to officially oversee Morgana’s banishment.
The four guards who were to form Morgana’s escort were waiting by the gates; each wore light leather armour underneath his travelling cloak and held the reins of his chosen mount. The bulk of their belongings, along with most of Morgana’s things, would be sent on after them in the next few days, but the essentials had been packed onto a docile but swift mule, which had been tethered to Gwen’s palfrey.
Merlin’s palms felt sticky against the leather reins of both Gwen and Morgana’s horses. He had slept badly, kept awake by the dread of what was to happen when dawn came, and now irrational nerves and lack of sleep were making him jittery. Gaius laid a calming hand on his shoulder, but had no words of encouragement to offer.
Morgana emerged from the castle accompanied by Gwen and one of Arthur’s knights. Merlin knew Sir Dagonet only as a face to go with a name; he was not a recent addition to the court, but spent more time at his family home than in Camelot. He had a reputation for being fair and considerate to all in his care, however, and his face was kindly. He kept shooting Morgana subtle glances, as if checking that all was as well as could be expected with his subdued charge.
As they approached, Gaius took the reins from Merlin’s unresisting hands and nodded towards Gwen. Taking the hint, Merlin went over to his friend as she came to a halt beside her horse.
“Well,” he said quietly, trying to make his smile genuine. “I suppose this is it.”
“Maybe I’ll see you again,” Gwen replied, although she didn’t sound convinced. Merlin nodded anyway, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then he stepped forward and hugged Gwen tightly; she returned his embrace, leaning against his chest for a moment before pulling back to hold him at arm’s length. “You’ll take care of Arthur, won’t you?”
“Course I will,” he promised. He turned to look at Morgana, and found her already mounted. Her eyes were downcast, fixed upon the ground on the far side of her horse, but when he hesitantly touched her hand she looked at him. Her eyes were bright and rimmed with red, impossibly large in her pale, drawn face. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to wish you the best. Arthur’s angry - maybe when he’s cooled down -”
“Don’t speak up for me, Merlin,” she said softly but firmly. Her voice sounded harsh from lack of use, as if she had not spoken at all since her imprisonment. Her hand lashed out and she caught his wrist tightly. “Don’t ask him to change his mind.”
“But -”
“Promise me,” she insisted, leaning down so that she was closer to his level. She shot a furtive glance at Gwen and lowered her voice. “Don’t add to the burden already on my conscience by giving him an excuse to punish you, as well. I don’t want to see you hurt for my sake.”
Merlin nodded silently, although in his head he promised nothing. He would talk to Arthur about this again, in time, and try to convince him of Morgana’s relative innocence - but not until he was certain that doing so would not land him in trouble. Morgana gave him a searching look before she uncurled her fingers.
“Goodbye, Merlin,” she murmured. “Thank you - for everything.”
She turned to speak to Gaius, and Merlin walked around to stand at Gwen’s side, giving them a sliver of privacy. He patted the horse’s neck absently, trying to think of something to say that was not ‘goodbye’. Gwen nudged his shoulder with her foot.
“I’ll write to you,” she told him. Her smile was broad, but Merlin knew that it was just a little forced. Gwen didn’t want to go into exile any more than anyone else, but her sense of loyalty to Morgana would not allow her to leave her mistress. Merlin suspected that Morgana would try to send her away - often, probably - but Gwen could never leave her. The bond between mistress and maid was too strong - almost as strong as the one Merlin usually felt between himself and Arthur.
Since Uther’s death, however, Arthur had been a different man, unreadable even to his closest friends. An unknown quantity even to Merlin.
“I’ll write back,” Merlin replied, jerking himself out of his increasingly circular thoughts. It wasn’t like they were helping matters. He reached up and squeezed her hand, which was clutching the reins just a little too tightly - probably nerves - and tried to make his smile as natural as possible. “Well, I suppose I’ll be seeing you …”
“Goodbye,” she replied, then quickly turned and clicked her tongue as she urged her horse into motion, turning the palfrey after Morgana, who had moved off a few seconds before.
Merlin watched them go. Before they turned the corner, Morgana turned and looked up in the direction of Arthur’s chambers, presumably checking the window, but did not smile or wave; she stared for a moment, expressionless, then turned away and carried on riding. Gwen, however, turned and waved to Merlin and Gaius as she followed her mistress out of sight. Merlin waited until the sound of hoofbeats had disappeared before he risked speech.
He cleared his throat; it sounded loud in the silence of the courtyard. “They’re gone.”
“Yes,” Gaius replied with a deep sigh. “Well, there’s nothing can be done now.”
Merlin did not comment. He knew that he could convince Arthur to bring Morgana, and by extension Gwen, back to Camelot; the difficulty was in timing and phrasing. He knew better than to try now, when the anger and hurt was still fresh, but later - perhaps in six months or a year, maybe two at the outside, when the pain of losing his father was no longer so sharp - Merlin knew that he could metaphorically twist Arthur’s arm. For now, though, he was helpless. He sighed deeply and turned to look up at Arthur’s windows.
There was a flicker of unexpected movement, and Merlin saw the curtains swinging as if they had been hastily pulled back into place across the glass. He frowned slightly, then jumped when Gaius laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I’d better get back to my work, and so had you,” he murmured. He looked older and more bent than ever, leaning heavily on his staff. Merlin gripped his shoulder in return, feeling a stab of concern for the old man, but let him walk back to his chambers unassisted.
“I’ll see you later,” he said as he made his way across the courtyard. He had to check on Arthur.
He decided to take his time on the way, however. If he was right in his assumption - if it had been Arthur himself twitching aside the curtains to see Morgana leave - he wanted to give him time to get into whatever position he wanted to be discovered in. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know that he had been watching, otherwise he would have been in the courtyard beside Merlin and Gaius; it didn’t take unbridled genius to work out that Arthur’s actions this morning were meant to be secret and undiscovered, and for the sake of his own skin Merlin decided to leave them that way.
Finally, after a detour to the kitchens to pick up a tray of breakfast, he knocked softly on the door to Arthur’s chambers. He slipped inside without waiting for an answer, as if he expected Arthur to be asleep, and feigned surprise when he found Arthur awake, although still in bed.
“Good morning,” he smiled, placing the tray of bread, honey and fruit down on the table. “You’re up early.”
“I’m not up yet,” Arthur sneered, although the words had no bite to them and there was a small smile playing over his lips. It was a shadow of their former banter, but Merlin was glad to have Arthur teasing him again. It was a good sign: a sign of things returning to normal, inch by painstaking inch.
“But you are awake, sire,” Merlin replied with a small grin, walking over to the cupboard and pulling it open. “And I know how you hate lying in bed when it’s unnecessary.”
Behind him, Arthur let out a deep sigh, as if he resented his manservant for knowing him as well as he did, but Merlin heard him climb out of bed and pad across to the screen to change. He selected a red tunic and dark trousers, then walked across and slung them over the top of the screen. He had barely turned to bring Arthur his belt when he was called back.
“Not today,” Arthur said, dragging the trousers off the top of the screen and throwing his nightshirt over in their place. “Get me one of the black ones.”
Merlin hesitated for a moment, but did not argue. He carefully took both nightshirt and tunic and went back to the cupboard. Inside, a whole shelf had been set aside for Arthur’s mourning clothes; from that shelf, Merlin chose a black tunic and carried it across. Instead of flinging it over the screen, he unfolded it and held it around the side.
Arthur took it from him with a quiet “Thank you.” After a moment’s pause, he cautiously asked, “You saw Morgana leave?”
“Yes,” Merlin told him; there was no point in lying about it, and it wasn’t as if Arthur had forbidden it. He cleared his throat, fiddling with the sleeves of his battered jacket. “Gwen left with her.”
“Did she say anything?” Arthur asked, ignoring Merlin’s last statement so thoroughly that he felt his fingers curl involuntarily into angry fists. He took a steadying breath and forced himself not to snap.
“No, nothing, sire,” he reported dutifully. Nothing he felt like reporting to Arthur, in any case. Arthur came out from behind the screen and went over to the table, not looking at his manservant at all. Without sitting, he poked at the food on the tray without much interest.
Finally he turned and leant back against the edge of the table, his arms folding protectively across his chest. Still he did not look at Merlin, but he did say, “I’m sorry about Gwen.”
There was genuine regret in his voice. Merlin felt the prickle of anger subside. “She chose to go.”
“I could have someone go after them and bring her back,” Arthur offered simply.
Merlin looked up sharply - angry again, that Arthur could suggest it when he knew how close Morgana and Gwen were, when he ought to know that it would be cruel - and saw Arthur’s apologetic, starkly vulnerable expression. He wanted to make something right, Merlin realised. He had made so many mistakes lately - breaking his relationship with Morgana; failing to catch his father’s killer; allowing his father’s safety to be compromised in the first place; and now causing Gwen to leave and so depriving Merlin of one of his few friendships - and he had suddenly spotted something he could repair. His motives were in the right place, but Merlin forced himself to shake his head.
“No - it was her decision, and she wanted to go,” he said. He looked down at the floor. “I would do the same, and I would hardly thank my friends for stopping me.”
“You would go into exile?” Arthur asked almost in disbelief. The further question, ‘for me?’ remained unspoken, but Merlin didn’t need to hear it to understand what Arthur meant.
Merlin knew that Arthur needed reassurance and loyalty now more than ever, but the fact that he even had to ask disconcerted him. He had almost always been willing to die for Arthur. Initially, he had told himself that it was for the future of Camelot, but he was under no such illusions now; it was Arthur, not the destiny he stood for. Exile was nothing in comparison.
Before, Arthur had known that instinctively, and the fact that he needed it reaffirmed told Merlin just how vulnerable Uther’s death had left him.
He looked up slowly and met Arthur’s nervous gaze before he nodded. He felt his heart beat once, twice, three times before Arthur finally broke the eye contact with a snort and a shake of his head.
“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought.”
Merlin flashed him a grin and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak there came a knock at the door. Arthur barely had time to invite them to enter when the doors burst open and one of the knights tumbled into the room.
“Sire! My apologies, but one of the men sent with Lady Morgana as an escort has just returned - badly injured,” he said in a rush. The moment he finished, Arthur started for the door, waving at Merlin to follow him and catching the knight’s arm as he passed, pulling him along beside him.
“Tell me.”
“He says they were attacked a short way outside of Camelot. They were outnumbered, and once he was injured he was sent back by Dagonet,” the knight reported as they half-ran down the corridors. Merlin realised suddenly that Arthur was heading towards the armoury. “They put a few more arrows in him as he rode away. The man passed out, and was taken to the Physician - I doubt he will survive.”
“Go and rouse the knights - I want ten ready to leave as soon as possible, and the rest ready to ride out as reinforcements. Alert the stables to have our horses ready,” Arthur ordered, releasing the knight’s arm. He peeled off down a side corridor, but Merlin jogged after Arthur.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked as Arthur barged into the empty armoury and snatched a padded tunic. He went to get the chainmail anyway, knowing that his objections would fall on deaf ears. “You’ve not eaten, and you’re the king -”
“I know,” Arthur snapped, snatching the chainmail and shooing Merlin away. He pulled it over his head himself; Merlin grabbed the armour for Arthur’s right shoulder and arm and brought it over. As he buckled the pauldron onto his shoulder, Arthur fastened the vambrace onto his arm. Merlin has just started on the second buckle when he said quietly, “I can’t let bandits murder Morgana.”
Merlin carried on strapping Arthur’s armour to him mechanically; after five years of arming him before various tournaments and skirmishes, he could complete the process without needing to think. “You could just send your men?”
“Not when I sent her into their hands myself,” Arthur told him firmly. Merlin stood and looked into Arthur’s face, lined with determination. For a moment, they stared at one another; then Merlin turned and went to fetch another piece of armour.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, Merlin.”
“Yes, Arthur!” he insisted. Arthur opened his mouth to argue further, but Merlin cut him off. “Even if you forbid it, I’ll come anyway.”
Arthur’s mouth snapped shut. He glared at his manservant. “I suppose you will,” he conceded reluctantly. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
“Same to you,” Merlin replied, fastening the final buckle and slapping Arthur’s shoulder firmly. He took Arthur’s sword from a rack and held it out to him. The king took it from him and carefully slid the scabbard onto his belt. Then with a final nod to Merlin he grabbed his helmet and stalked out of the armoury.
.