sins of the father :: part four
Title: Sins of the Father
Author: darkmagic_luvr
Warnings: Consensual incest, consentual sex between minors, age gap flirting, main character death, angst, Merlin’s tears…cliffhanger? Sequal foreshadowing.
Summary: There are some sins that cannot be forgiven; these sins of the father.
Disclaimer: In the beginning there are lines taken from the actual episodes of Sins of the Father. I do not own them, the characters or the original plot line for this episode.
back
No one spoke. Merlin took the opportunity to catch his breath, while Mordred scrambled to his feet and ran to Morgana’s side, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Mother…”
“Arthur’s here,” Merlin gasped, swallowing the bile climbing up his throat. Morgana turned with Mordred in her arms toward the entrance of the cave, where Arthur’s horse was skidding to stop, and his knights not far behind. Morgause made a noise in the back of her throat, struggling to stand. Merlin held his hand toward her threateningly, stilling her movements while Arthur dismounted and entered the cavern.
Arthur drew his sword as he neared, staring at Morgause. “You-!”
She interrupted him with a pained grin and gold in her eyes, disappearing in front of them without even uttering a spell. Arthur stopped short, his sword halfway up. His confusion was short lived however, when Morgana reached out to clutch his arm. He turned to her and Merlin watched his face go from confused to furious when he took in her appearance.
“You didn’t run all the way here,” he accused, dropping his sword to the ground so he could use both his hands to cup her face, tilting it upwards into the sunlight streaming in. She was dirty and bruised and alive and that was all that mattered.
Merlin had never personally seen Arthur look so relieved in the years he’d known the man. Eyes shining with unshed tears and his jaw clenched in frustration and a halfhearted attempt at hiding his emotions, he pulled Morgana into his chest roughly by the shoulders, wrapping his arms around her tightly and closing his eyes.
“I won’t even ask how you got here before me. Thank you for showing me the way.” Morgana looked up at him with a frown.
“I didn’t-“
“That was me,” interrupted Merlin, completely exhausted. He wanted to lean against the cavern walls or even just lie down and nap, but he resisted. Arthur pulled away from Morgana and stared at him; Mordred looked torn, why, Merlin didn’t know and he resisted trying to communicate with him. Arthur didn’t speak to him.
“Thank you, Merlin,” said Morgana, breaking the tension growing between Arthur and Merlin. She glanced at Arthur. “He did save us, Arthur.”
Arthur didn’t acknowledge her words; instead he turned away and kneeled in front of Mordred, running a hand over the side of his face.
“I’m alright, Father,” he murmured. Arthur nodded and stood.
“Back to Camelot, then.”
Merlin started forward, eyes widening. “Arthur what you said-“
“I meant it. Stay away, Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
Arthur looked at Morgana. “Go.” He whispered, nodding to the mouth of the cave. She hesitated, but finally took Mordred by the hand, leading him off. Arthur watched them go for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing.
“Stay away from Camelot, Merlin.”
“But I-!”
“Please,” Arthur begged, rounding on the other man. “Do not return to Camelot with us.”
Merlin’s chest was too tight to breathe. He was being exiled from Camelot; he was no longer worthy of being Arthur’s servant, his protector. His knees were going a bit weak as they stood together in the darkened cavern. Morgana and Mordred were waiting just beyond the mouth of the cave, along with the rest of the knights Arthur had brought with him.
“Have I betrayed you that badly?” asked Merlin weakly, hearing tears in his voice. Arthur looked away, his hands clenching audibly against the leather gloves. Merlin’s nostril’s flared with a fleeting anger. “I was protecting you-”
“Give me time, Merlin,” said Arthur softly. “You’ve no idea what this feels like, finding out your closest friend was harboring a secret that…I don’t trust you, Merlin.” finished Arthur, looking back up at him, and Merlin saw pain in his face. “I need to trust you. Give me time to do so again.”
Merlin let a puff of air escape his lips and he took half a step back, his boot scuffing against the rock floor. He lowered his head obediently, submissively, in agreement with Arthur’s words. He could not save the King if the King didn’t trust the man willing to save him.
He heard Arthur hesitate just a moment in his leave, and that alone gave Merlin hope enough that he would be allowed to return to Camelot someday. He listened to the sound of Arthur’s amour move away from him, out of the cave, and the sound of horses galloping away until there was nothing, nothing but silence. Merlin finally looked up, squinting out of the cave opening into the setting sun, pretending he could see King Arthur and his knights riding back to Camelot. He would wait. He would wait and he would not return to Camelot.
For now.
.
Leon pounded his fist against the solid wood door keeping him prisoner. The door locked from the outside and, unless he developed super powers, he wouldn’t be able to break it down. His shouting hadn’t alerted anyone in the castle so far, and he was beginning to think no one would come for him. He sighed and ceased thumping the door, dropping his forehead against it wearily.
Uther was probably already executing the people responsible for his capture; Gaius would be dead by now, that is, if he hadn’t been able to talk his way out. That physician knew too many tricks. Then there was Leon himself, who had arrested Uther on Arthur’s orders. He’d be a goner, just a matter of time for Uther to remember where he put him before he was executed.
He’d hate to think what Arthur might come back to.
“Bugger.” He muttered, banging his head on the door once for good measure. He stayed silent with his thoughts until the sound shuffling of feet caught his attention.
“Oi, someone down here?”
“Yes, yes!” shouted Leon, straightening against the door and hammering it with the palm of his hand. “Down here! At the end!”
Whoever it wasn’t didn’t hurry, despite the urgency in Leon’s voice. He growled to himself, wondering if the man was enjoying his leisurely stroll while the former king of Camelot went on a killing frenzy before the current one came back. Green eyes and shiny hair ducked into view through the slot in the door. Leon blinked, not recognizing him.
“Who the hell are you?”
Whoeverhewas cocked his head to the side, smirking with suspiciously good humor. “Is that really the way you’re going to treat your rescuer?”
Leon rolled his eyes. “Just let me out, we have to stop Uther.”
“Stop him from what?” asked the man conversationally, averting his eyes to the lock on the door and scraping what sounded like a knife into the lock.
“Well…” Leon struggled with his words for a moment, trying to piece them together in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a buffoon. The man glanced at him, as if he wanted to let Leon know that he was still paying attention. “He’s escaped, hasn’t he? And he’s going to realize that people with magic are residing in the city openly. He’ll have them rounded up and executed.”
“Oh,” said the nameless man a bit dryly. “He’s a bit mad, yeah?”
“No!” Leon watched his eyebrows quirked in a ‘sure-whatever-you-say’ sort of way. Leon opened his mouth to explain that Uther was just that way, when the man interrupted with an Ah!.
“Gotcha,” he muttered as the lock click and the door swung inwards. Leon stepped back for the door and looked up at the man who’d rescued him. He was dressed as a civilian, grinning at Leon broadly with a narrow dagger twirling between his fingers. “Now, what’s this you said about a mad king?”
“He’s not mad,” grumbled Leon, stalking through the doorway. His pride, however, had him stopped before he was past the other man and holding out his hand in thanks. “Sir Leon, knight of Camelot.”
His grin widened, if that was even possible. “Gwaine; pub goer, wooer of maidens, and amateur swordsman.”
“How’d you get into the castle?” asked Leon, shaking hands with Gwaine.
“My winning good looks?” offered Gwaine, following Leon as he headed out of the dungeons. “Or some bloke named Merlin…?”
“Ah, Merlin.” That made sense; Merlin was always bringing in stray men to the castle. Which sounded a bit like the servant fancied men, but that was fine so long as Gaius didn’t mind. Merlin did live with him after all. Speaking of Gaius….
“Need help with the tyrannical king who plans on murdering hundreds of innocent people?” asked Gwaine casually, stopping Leon as he raced up a flight of stairs. He received a dry, exasperated look from Leon and shrugged. “’Cause I’m free for the day.”
“Bloody fine,” muttered Leon, turning back around, then louder for Gwaine to hear. “We need to find Gaius.”
“Older gent with the scary eyebrows?” asked Gwaine, skipping every other step to catch up. Leon nodded, stopping again. “Yeah, he was arrested by one of the knights and taken to see ‘The King’.” Leon went a little pale, causing Gwaine to wince. “I assume that’s a bad thing?”
Leon’s silence spurred Gwaine to quicken his pace and keep his mouth shut. Their paces slowed as they neared a barricaded thrown room, a few dead knights slummed against the walls. Gwaine kneeled next to the first they came upon and checked the man’s pulse. His good humor completely vanished and he shook his head in disgust.
“Take his sword,” said Leon. “You’ll need to be armed.”
Gwaine nodded and picked up the fallen man’s weapon, testing the blade in his hand as he stood. “How many men do you think he has with him?”
“All of them, none of them, I can’t be sure.”
“Well,” began Gwaine, the cheer coming back to his voice. “Only one way to find out.”
There were guards at the doors just around the corridor, five or six, who fought with them. Only two had to die before the others surrendered and Gwaine made quick work of tying them together on the floor. Leon headed straight for the doors, pushing them open wide and striding in, swords raised, only to stop.
“Took you long enough.”
Gwaine rushed in behind Leon, skidding to a stop at his shoulder, staring down at Gaius sitting atop an unconscious Uther; empty goblets within arm’s reach. Leon stepped forward, mouth hanging open.
“How did you-?”
“Sleeping draught, one of Morgana’s at that. Powerful enough to knock out a horse. Uther didn’t stand a chance when I offered to drink to his reign.”
Leon shook his head. He’d never understand how Gaius managed to escape death time and again with only his words and a bit of potion. Gaius stood, dusting off his robes. “Ah, Gwaine, you’re awake.”
“And a hero already, it seems,” he said, leaning back on his heels. “Where’s Merlin? I’d like to thank him for saving my arse the other night.”
Gaiuse waved a hand. “Out on a hunting trip with Arthur and his son; they shouldn’t return for another few hours. In the meantime, get Uther back to his cell. Wouldn’t want Arthur to return with a sight like this to greet him, would we?”
Leon snapped to attention and quickly moved to Uther’s side, dragging the older man up and over his shoulders in order to carry him better. Gwaine followed, grinning and chattering on while Gaius stayed behind. He shook his head.
“Probably didn’t even need the hangover remedy,” he muttered after Gwaine disappeared with Leon and turned to where Uther had fallen and the two goblets lying on the ground. He’d laced the rim for Uther’s cup with a film, a leaf he’d taken from Nimueh’s book so Uther wouldn’t suspect anything foul. The old King had had murder in his eyes aimed for anyone who crossed him, including Arthur. Solitary had not been kind to Uther, and instead of reflecting upon what he’d done to cause such an event to occur he began blaming those in the right for his actions.
Sir Leon poked his head around the doors, glancing around before stopping on Gaius with a frown. “You’re still here? It’s fine I suppose, but Arthur’s returned.”
Gaius’ eyebrow rose in surprise; it was still early in the day. “Is he? And Morgana? Is she with him?”
Leon nodded. “Mordred too, both look unharmed, but you should probably come out to meet them just in case.”
“Of course, of course,” muttered Gaius, tucking both goblets into the sleeves of his robes and following Leon out to the courtyard. Gwaine was waiting for them, leaning against an abandoned cart picking his nails. He looked up when they got closer.
“Evidence all gone?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. Gaius returned a similar expression but kept silent. Leon fidgeted as Arthur’s party came into view.
“I think it’s best if we don’t tell Arthur,” suggested Gaius, folding his hands together in front of him. Leon sighed heavily in agreement, while Gwaine waved to the party nearing them.
“Cheer up mate, at least we figured out which guards were loyal to Uther before something really unfortunate happened.” Leon flashed Gwaine a rude hand sign, only causing the other man to roar with laughter.
“Sire!” called Gaius as Arthur, Mordred, Morgana and their knights pulled their horses to a stop. Morgana looked worse for the wear and Mordred was fidgeting slightly. It was Arthur’s silence and blank face as he dismounted that had the smile fading from the physician’s face. His eyes flickered back to the rest of the party. “Where’s Merlin?”
“Merlin is not returning to Camelot,” growled Arthur, stalking past Gaius and into the castle. Morgana looked as if she would like to follow him, as did Mordred, but Gaius turned his confused gaze onto Morgana, stopping her.
“What happened to Merlin?”
Mordred shook his head. “They know,” he said, then, after giving Gwaine a once over and an eyebrow raise, followed Arthur into the castle. Gaius turned his head to watch him go, then back at Morgana for an explanation. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
“The magic,” she began. “Merlin’s magic. Arthur’s exiled him, just for the time being,” she added, seeing the look on Gaius’ face. “And you knew.”
“I-“
“Arthur will want to speak with you,” she said coldly, brushing past him. Gwaine whistled low under his breath, watching her flounce off.
“She’s married to the king?” he asked.
“Heavens no,” muttered Gaius. With a quick shake of his head he turned and left Leon and Gwaine together, heading for someone to shed light on these…unfortunate outcomes. “Merlin, what have you done?”
And not for the first time Kilgharrah gave him an answer. It was smug, dramatic and chock full of ‘get me out of here or I’ll eat you’ hidden in subtext. What Gaius sussed from the dragon was that Merlin had done magic in front of Arthur and it hadn’t gone well. And why would it when he had plenty of practice in the past to use magic unnoticed and the opportunity to do it subtly underfoot as always? Also, maybe without so much murder probably would have helped. Gaius wondered if Merlin would defy Arthur and return to Camelot anyways, to say goodbye or pick up supplies until things cooled down. He dismissed the thought after recalling the look on Arthur’s face when he told Gaius Merlin was not coming back. Merlin wouldn’t dare return.
“I just hope it’s not forever,” said Gaius to himself.
The dragon snorted in agreement. “Merlin still has a long way to go before Arthur is ready to create Avalon.”
“How long?” demanded Gaius. “How long before he returns?”
“That is completely up to Merlin.” Gaius nodded and turned to leave, having got what he came for from the dragon. He was nearly out of earshot when Kilgharrah spoke up to stop him.
“Keep an eye on the witch and her child until Merlin returns, physician,” he warned. Gaius suppressed an eye roll, but he couldn’t help the huff when he turned back around.
“You believe they’re still a threat?”
“I believe that Camelot will be betrayed. The war for Avalon is won, but there will be many battles before it is finished.”
“Many battles,” repeated Gaius softly. Yes, he figured there would be. He also thought that Merlin would be around for them. He would have to take it upon himself to advise Arthur. There was one thing though that the dragon hadn’t mentioned. “What of Uther, Dragon?”
Kilgharrah huffed, turning his head, the muscles in his wings tensing and Gaius prepared himself for the heavy beat of wings. “Uther Pendragon is no concern of mine any longer.”
.
Currently, Uther Pendragon was sitting against the wall of his cell, facing the door with his eyes closed and his head titled back. He’d not even had a chance to see Arthur; his son had refused to see him in the two months since arresting him. Arthur didn’t understand what was best for him; he didn’t know how to run a kingdom and absolutely didn’t know how to raise a child. Uther had done what he had to do, for the sake of his son and now…now he had to watch his kingdom suffer at the hands of a boy who didn’t think three steps ahead.
“What’s this? Not brooding are we?”
Uther’s eyes opened slowly, having grown used to hearing voices when he was alone. This one was different, this one was blonde. His heart skipped and he jumped, pressing back against the wall, holding one hand in front of him to keep her away.
“Witch.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me, Uther,” said Morgause, her dress collecting dirt and dust as she moved toward him. “You need me.”
“I need nothing from you,” spat Uther. “You’ve destroyed my son with lies!”
“Your fate is your own doing,” snapped Morgause. “You want it back?”
“I will not fall for any of your trickery. Leave me.”
“Fine,” shrugged Morgause, looking off and turning her body away from him. “I thought you might want my help to take back your kingdom, but-“
“Wait,” interrupted Uther, dropping his arm to his side and standing. “Help me take back my kingdom? By what means? Arthur’s death? Absolutely not.”
“Mordred will take the throne when Arthur dies, surely you know this?” Uther glared in response. “He’s likened to Arthur, and in the coming years their bond will only become tighter. He will take the throne willingly and continue what Arthur is doing, which is bringing about an era of magic-“
“That’s ridiculous! Arthur would never-!”
“It was the first thing he did when he overthrew you,” informed Morgause, shooting Uther a withering look.
Uther fell silent. He’d not known that Arthur would so quickly undo everything he’d accomplished in his war against magic. If it continued as quickly as Morgause was saying, in a matter of years Camelot would be crawling with magic filth. There was only one thing he could do to stop it. Morgause smiled softly at him as she read the decision in his eyes.
“The enemy of my enemy.”
“Arthur is not my enemy.”
“No, but we are both his, and you are both mine.”
Silent, Uther bowed his head and nodded. With a flash of sparks, the chains binding Uther’s wrists broke and clattered to the floor. Uther backed away from them quickly, as if afraid they would come to life. Morgause pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile.
“I do not trust you,” said Uther. “All I want is Arthur to realize he’s made a mistake allowing your kind to live in the city, much less at all.”
“If you want your throne, then you will come with me.”
“Where?”
Morgause held out a hand for him to take, eyes narrowed in arrogance. Uther took her proffered hand and braced himself. “To our army.”
P A R T . T W O
t h r e e . y e a r s . l a t e r
It was late summer in Camelot; hot and sticky and smells too pungent in the air. The grass was starting to brown in preparation for the coming autumn season and a relief for the dreadful heat waves of summer. Camelot had seen worse, but if anyone was alive to remember it as an excuse they stayed quiet. In the past three years, there had been far less death; mostly thanks to King Arthur. What death there was, was in the form of rebellion against those with magic, rebellion with those that did and a medley of executions long extended whilst Uther had tended to other matters. The Peace Treaty formed four years earlier with the Great Kings had held its standing. It seemed overall peace in Camelot was won.
Just the troubling issue of their unwed King filled the time of gossiping crones between their stands of trade goods. The bastard child of his was still a touchy subject, but Mordred was proving to be a capable knight, training with the guard and doing his best to live up to his father’s reputation. His magic, as well as Morgana’s, was known throughout the kingdom, which may have been the only reason some Druids felt safe in leaving the forests.
Perhaps though, what had changed the most was what had changed the least. Worn, leather boots stopped on top of a hill, the same one those feet had crossed years earlier. His clothing choice had not changed, nor his hair style and blue eyes, but there was something in his face; something newer and older at the same time. The faintest of scars swept along the side of his face, an injury he had tried to heal with magic by himself. He’d filled out in the chest a bit, still scrawny and frail looking, but not quite so obvious now.
“Gods,” he whispered to himself as his eyes misted at the sight of Camelot in all her glory against the sun. “It’s good to be home.”
He turned back to a grizzled looking man with a walking stick only a few steps behind. “Are you going to take all day to get there old man?” He ducked the heavy swing of the walking stick just in time to avoid a bruised jaw, weaving out of reach.
“Are you sure you want to come back now?” asked the older man, stopping at the top of the hill, his words stilling his companion’s footfalls. “There is never an end to the magic you can learn.”
“I’ll be alright, Father. This is…this is good.” Similar blue eyes closed briefly in understanding and the pair started walking again in silence, every now and then nudging each other playfully to keep themselves going.
Honestly, he wasn’t expecting much with his return, maybe a few looks from the knights he passed, or even a few of the Druids who might recognize him, but he managed to walk straight through Camelot without being stopped once. If he was disappointed in the welcome, it didn’t show, but the closer he got to the castle the deeper the feeling of uneasy became in his stomach. What if nothing had changed? What if everything had?
The courtyard outside the castle was bustling with people, and for a moment he feared there was an execution about to take place (because wouldn’t that just top off his whole return? Another execution to welcome him), but it looked rather more like an event, with servants running around with silks and silver.
There was a skinny boy with dark brown hair speaking to a plump man with a large copper kettle in his hands, who looked like a rounder version of the royal cook three years prior. The boy (who was just taller than Merlin had been at that age) turned and pointed off in a different direction then the one the cook had been heading in. Merlin sucked in a breath in astonishment, seeing the younger man’s face.
“Mordred…” His father glanced at him with a frown.
“The King’s son?” Merlin nodded, then snorted softly and shook his head.
“He looks just like Arthur.”
Mordred looked at them just then, his face going blank. Then a familiar voice broke through the silence in Merlin’s head, matured over the few years he’d been gone. Emrys? Then aloud. “Merlin?”
He didn’t say anything in return, just inclined is head slightly. A grin broke across Mordred’s face, a testament to how far Camelot had brought him.
Hello, Mordred. Mordred turned his head, looking away as if someone had called him and after a moment’s hesitation, turned back and beckoned Merlin forward with a nod.
Father doesn’t know you’re here?
No, should he?
You’ve missed a lot, Merlin. The Druids in the court would have told him, if they knew you were coming back.
I’m clever like that, I suppose.
Mordred gave him a slow once-over once he stopped close enough to be able to see him clearly. “Yes, I suppose so.” He nodded toward the castle. “This way.”
Besides the people he didn’t recognize, the castle was virtually the same in Merlin’s eyes. Maybe a new tapestry here and a replaced window pane there, but it still felt like home. It was home. The trio walked in silence, Merlin noting that Mordred hadn’t asked him who the man with him was. Balinor wouldn’t have informed the prince who he was and who he was to Merlin without express grief from his son on proper manners.
Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and glare over his shoulder at his father for skipping important, civilized things like hygiene and not trusting a pubescent mind reader.
“You’ve started speaking more,” commented Merlin. Mordred sighed in exasperation.
“I have to don’t I? Father says politics are a drag, but they must be obeyed for things to run smoothly.”
“And who taught Arthur that?” asked Merlin, trying not to sound as amused as he was.
“Gaius did.”
Merlin nearly stopped in his tracks. Gaius. He’d forgotten to ask if the old man who had treated him like a son or a really annoying nephew was still alive and well. And obviously he was, consulting the king on matters like politics. Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably and changed the subject.
“Where are we going?”
Mordred turned his head just enough so Merlin could see the smirk on his face. To see the king, obviously.
Merlin really did stop this time, causing Balinor to run into him with a curse. “Right now?”
Of course right now, you twit. What else do you have to do?
Merlin muttered something under his breath about maybe having a wash or something to eat, but Mordred was ignoring him and still walking. Balinor gave him a small shove forward (it was actually a big shove, in which Merlin stumbled forward and nearly fell flat on his face) and continued walking as well. Merlin grimaced at their backs, looked away uncomfortably and then quickly followed behind.
“What if-?”
“Father’s been having a festival arranged. Mother’s idea, she wanted something to celebrate the autumn equinox.”
“That’s not for another two weeks,” commented Balinor, glancing at the backside of a passing serving girl. Merlin cuffed him for it out of habit more than annoyance. He shook his head and explained to his father.
“If it’s involving the whole of Camelot, preparing enough food, drink and entertainment would take…”
“About a month and a half so far,” finished Mordred. “Luckily it’s almost over, because it’s driving Father mad.”
“Speaking of...” started Merlin under his breath as they turned down a familiar corridor. The doors to the great hall were open and inventing, but to Merlin looked nothing but ominous. His pace slowed to a stop just outside the doors, his fingers brushing against the smooth wood he’d long ago traded for scratchy bark. He watched as a grin pulled Mordred’s face when he entered; Balinor stopped at Merlin’s shoulder.
“Go on, then. I’m not sure the King would take much to me, not knowing who I am.”
“Maybe you were right,” muttered Merlin. “Maybe coming back was a mistake.”
“It’s too late now,” said Balinor as gently as his gravelly voice would allow. Merlin swallowed.
“I’m not the same person I was back then,” said Merlin to himself. “I can do this-”
“Then go, boy!” Balinor grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and pushed him after Mordred, nearly running the smaller boy over when he ran into him.
Ouch-
Not my fault, snapped Merlin quickly, straightening them both and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. There were about five knights to his right going over a map of the city, one Merlin didn’t recognize glanced from it momentarily to spare Mordred a look. There were servants polishing the windows and dusting around the room, paying them no head whatsoever, completely absorbed in their work. And then there was Arthur, standing next to a bald Druid man with an excessively long mustache holding a vellum text which Arthur was reading. Merlin felt his heart beat quicken, blood pounding in his ears. Arthur looked mostly the same, maybe a little older, defiantly a little more tired looking, but he was still Arthur. Merlin swallowed and tried to calm his nerves with a slow breath.
Mordred shifted on his feet next to him, looking uncomfortable to interrupt whatever it was Arthur and the Druid were discussing. “Father?”
Arthur didn’t look up at his son’s voice, concentrating on what he was reading. “Yes?”
Mordred opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a moment, grimacing at whatever it was he had been planning to say. Arthur looked up after a minute of no response. “Mordred? What is it?”
“Arthur.” Merlin felt his heartbeat quicken, he hadn’t meant to speak. Arthur’s eyes slammed onto him, a blank mask crashing over his face when he recognized Merlin face.
“Merlin.” The Druid looked up, startled at the name. The knights huddled together over their map stopped their chatter and looked at Merlin as well. There was an uncomfortable silence where Merlin thought of the millions of things that Arthur might do, and Mordred’s silence wasn’t helping him.
“Leave us,” said Arthur finally, handing the vellum in his hands back to the Druid, who bowed out of the room quickly. The knights hesitated before they left as well, looking between their king and the warlock worriedly. Balinor shut the double doors behind them and dropped back against them with a sigh. Merlin’s mind was racing, trying to come up with something to say.
“Hi,” Merlin managed lamely, dropping his eyes to the ground. He felt more than saw Mordred rolling his eyes. Arthur raised an eyebrow in silent response.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well…” started Merlin, clasping in hands behind his back and walking forward slowly. “It’s been three years. A lot can change in that amount of time, and I was just thinking that…maybe…” Merlin stopped close enough to Arthur to be able to reach out and touch him. He felt his face start to fall at the blank look Arthur still wore. “Has it been long enough?”
Arthur’s eyes widened a fraction at Merlin’s question. “I…” Merlin saw the hesitation in his face, and his heart sank. It hadn’t been enough time, Arthur still didn’t trust him. He turned to go when Arthur’s hand shot out to grab him. Merlin blinked, startled, and Arthur looked about the same. His eyes flashed to Mordred, and he let him go.
Arthur cleared his throat. “You can stay, it hasn’t been…I mean, if you would like to stay…”
“I would.”
Arthur nodded firmly and looked away. “Good.”
Again, Merlin felt Mordred roll his eyes, this time at Arthur, who rolled his eyes at him right back. He pulled away from his awkward proximity to Merlin and headed toward his son, ruffling his hair in passing, making Mordred frown. “Morgana will be interested to see you,” he directed toward Merlin.
“Will she?”
“Mother’s been learning spells from Gaius and me,” explained Mordred. “As much as we can. Our magics are different.”
“Well, I should probably-“
“Who is this?” interrupted Arthur, pointing at Balinor, who had remained silent through the conversation. He inclined his head respectively.
“Just passing through with a message, sire.”
“It can wait,” said Merlin. “Arthur, this is Balinor. The last Dragonlord, and my father.”
“Dragonlord,” repeated Arthur under his breath, holding out his hand for Balinor to shake. “I thought Uther whipped them out, along with the dragons?”
“I did say he was the last,” said Merlin cheekily. Arthur ignored him, Balinor sent him a dry look, and Mordred looked like he very much wanted to drop his face against the wall. Several times. Balinor turned his attention back to the King.
“I do seek your counsel, sire,” said Balinor, changing the topic. “Nothing that requires immediate attention, just a warning.”
“We’ll talk later,” promised Arthur. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, and I still have duties to complete today.”
“In the morning then,” suggested Balinor, which Arthur confirmed with a nod. “Merlin and I will leave you.”
Merlin resisted the urge to be petulant and reply with something like ‘you’re not the boss of me’, but he did want to escape the uncomfortable tension between him and Arthur. He wanted to find Gaius, he’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye and the last thing he wanted was some random passerby mentioning he was back.
There was an awkward shuffling around as Merlin tried to move around Arthur as quickly as possible, sliding after Balinor as the older man pushed open one of the doors. As he led Balinor down the familiar passages to Gaius’ chambers he heard Mordred’s voice through the still open door.
“Did you feel that? That’s what happens when raw, ancient magic is bound within a vessel that can control it.”
“He’s stronger then?”
“Totally. Also, that conversation could have gone better.”
Merlin turned a corner and whatever Arthur’s response had been was muffled in the stones. Balinor tapped his ankle with his staff, catching his attention.
“Where are we going son?”
“To see Gauis.”
They weren’t three steps to the physician’s door when it swung open, revealing Gaius in the doorway. There was a book in his hand which he promptly used to smack Merlin on the nose. His eyes immediately watered.
“What in Goddess-?!”
“That is for revealing your magic in front of Arthur and getting yourself banished from Camelot,” huffed Gaius, holding up a hand to prevent Merlin from speaking. Merlin opened his mouth in frustration, while Balinor stood behind him looking amused. “No contact in three years? Did Arthur ban you from picking up a pen as well?”
Merlin cleared his throat. “Sorry, Gaius.”
Gaius shook his head and beckoned Merlin into a hug. “You’re back now, that’s what matters.”
“Gaius,” started Merlin, pulling back slightly form his mentor and turning to Balinor. “This is my father-”
“Balinor. Yes, we’ve met.”
“It’s good to see you, Gaius.”
“Of course you know each other,” grumbled Merlin. “Figures. I spent three months wandering around in the forest, and I bet you could have told me exactly where he was.”
“Of course I could have, who do you think you’re speaking to?”
“It took you four months to find me, Merlin.”
“Did it really? I thought he knew how to navigate.”
Merlin stopped listening as Balinor and Gaius chatted away about his uselessness alone in the wood. He glanced into Gaius’ chambers to see if anything had changed, when Gwen’s familiar curls caught Merlin’s eye at the end of the corridor. He broke away from Gaius and Balinor to chase after her. “Gwen!”
She stopped and turned at her name, her eyebrows shooting up when she recognized Merlin. He slowed to a stop in front of her, smiling widely and breathlessly. He stared at her for a long moment and pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, it’s good to see you.”
Gwen cleared her throat and pulled away, pushing her hair behind her ears. Merlin’s smile wavered. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Merlin,” she said quickly. He ducked down until they were eyelevel.
“You don’t look fine. You look angry, is everything alright? Has Arthur done something-?”
“Why would Arthur do anything to me? He’s too busy being a father and a King.” Merlin frowned, straightening up.
“You’re not…What’s happened while I’ve been gone?”
Gwen’s lips faintly twisted in disgust. “Mordred’s become the crown prince of Camelot, and Morgana has practically forced the kingdom against the Christian God. Arthur won’t talk to me, it’s like everything I meant to him has just faded away. Not to mention all the bloody magic,” snapped Gwen. “Magic is dangerous Merlin. And the Druids don’t care at all what could happen when they use their magic.”
“And why should they? They know what they’re doing,” said Merlin slowly. Gwen shook her head.
“It’s thinking like that, that has Morgana believing she can control herself.”
Merlin was confused, this was not the kind of attitude Gwen had when he left. “I never knew you were so against magic.”
Gwen looked away. “It’s not…natural-”
“You mean it’s not fair?” prodded Merlin, ducking his head to catch her eyes once again. “Because Uther killed your father when he was suspected of using magic?”
“No, because it’s evil,” Gwen blurted out. “And I can’t believe the chaos you’ve cause by coming to Camelot. There’s never been so much magic exposed until you showed up, and now everyone knows why.”
“Are you blaming me for something?” asked Merlin, feeling a bit dazed. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t how his reunion with Gwen was supposed to go. He had missed her most of all; she was his friend and he loved her. Gwen sucked in a breath and straightened her back, staring straight past Merlin and at the wall behind him.
“Everything would be so different if not for you.”
“Yes it would,” said Merlin softly. Gwen walked off quickly, not sparing him another glance.
She’s been like that since you left. Merlin turned his head to see Mordred leaning against the wall of a service entrance. He shook his head. She blames me mostly. Something about being the gateway that opened the cesspool of our kind into Camelot to corrupt it’s ruler.
“Or something?” asked Merlin sarcastically, Mordred rolled his eyes and Merlin took the moment to appreciate the man Mordred was growing into. “You really do look like Arthur. He’s proud of you, I can tell.”
Mordred shrugged. He’s…he’s my father. I don’t know, I guess he’s grown on me.
“And Morgana?” asked Merlin. “Where is she?”
“Practicing,” said Mordred, pushing away from the wall and heading in the direction Gwen had come from. “She’s taken over a drawing room so she doesn’t get in the way when she does her magic. She probably doesn’t know you’re here yet.”
“Really? What about her premonitions, or even scrying-?”
“She really can’t see anything that doesn’t have to do with Arthur unless she concentrates,” interrupted Mordred. “Father banned her from doing it after the last time she tried.”
“What happened?”
Mordred shrugged. “She set the North West wing of the castle on fire.”
Merlin nodded, slightly impressed. “Brilliant.”
They took three flights of stairs and had to duck under a tapestry hiding a fourth before they reached Morgana’s personal drawing room. The door wasn’t locked, but there were voices coming from inside. Merlin placed a hand on Mordred’s shoulder to still his movement when he recognized Arthur’s.
What are-
Shh.
“-there any actual reason why you interrupted my studying or were you just bored and wanted a chat, Arthur?” Arthur snorted, and Merlin heard him sit heavily in a chair.
“It’s about Merlin.”
“Again?” snorted Morgana. “If you want him back in Camelot, Arthur, you’ll have to find him.”
“He’s returned, Morgana.”
“…Oh,” Morgana paused and something heavy and metal was placed on a table. “And? How did that go?”
Arthur cleared his throat and Morgana scoffed at him. “Arthur…you didn’t say anything stupid did you?”
“He caught me off guard!” he said loudly, defending himself. “When you tell someone you don’t want them to come back, you assume they won’t until you ask them to.”
“Yes, and Merlin’s always done everything you asked.” Merlin smirked, imagining Morgana rolling her eyes at Arthur. Oh yes, he missed her. Arthur grumbled something under his breath that Merlin didn’t catch and Morgana seemed to ignore.
“Go on, where is he now?”
Arthur sighed heavily. “I’ve got no idea. Probably with Gaius.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s back in any case,” admitted Morgana. “And I really hope he and Mordred are enjoying our conversation outside the door.”
Merlin winced as the door was pulled open, Morgana on the other side with her eyebrows quirked in amusement. Arthur appeared behind her moments later.
“Really, Merlin?”
“I used to be so much better at spying,” said Merlin wistfully. He gave Morgana a once over. She wasn’t dressed as she usually was; she was wearing trousers and a loose tunic, her hair bound at her neck to keep from getting in her way. Arthur was dressed casually as well; his more formal wear most likely discarded for his time spent away from public eyes.
“This was not my idea,” muttered Mordred, taking a step away from Merlin. “I just brought him to see you.”
“You practice your magic in here?” asked Merlin, glancing around the door frame as best he could to see inside. Morgana beamed and stepped away from the doorway, elbowing Arthur out of the way to let Merlin inside.
It was impressive. Candles filled the room from floor to ceiling, leather bound books stacked in the corners. There was a small round table in the center of the room with two velvet covered chairs. Bowls of various shapes and materials placed on a shelf beside vials of flora and potions. Merlin nodded his approval.
“Did Gaius give you my book of magic?” asked Merlin, turning back to Morgana. She nodded and pointed to one of the chairs, where the familiar leather book lay open.
“I found quite a few familiar things,” she commented vaguely. “Your time here makes so much more sense now.”
“Yeah…about that-“
“We’ll catch up later, Merlin,” insisted Morgana. “I do expect you to teach me, after all.”
A smile broke over Merlin’s face. “I’d be honored to.”
“Tomorrow morning then? And I want to hear about everything you’ve done in the last three years.”
.
Gwaine was bored. Gwaine was bored and Leon was no fun, as usual. He sighed, looking over at his companion, reached over, and punched him in the shoulder. “Hey, Leon.”
“Ah-! What?”
“I’m bored, want to go train?”
“You don’t have to punch me for that,” muttered Leon. Gwaine grinned broadly and ignored him, clapping him on the chest.
“Let’s go, there’s nothing better to do.” Leon sighed in agreement and made to follow him.
“We could-”
“Oi!” Leon and Gwaine turned back around as one of the guards from the prison jogged up to them. Gwaine nodded in greeting, while Leon just folded his arms over his chest. “Glad I caught you two.”
“What can we help you with?” asked Gwiane.
“Something odd’s been happening in Uther Pendragon’s cell.”
Leon straightened slightly. “Odd how?”
The guard shrugged. “Dunno. Everyone’s too wary to go down there more than twice in a row. But I’ve brought him his food the past week, and he hasn’t moved.”
“There’s not unusual,” said Leon dismissively, turning to continue down the hall, but Gwaine stopped him.
“What do you mean ‘he won’t move’?”
“I mean he won’t move. Not even a blink in my direction.”
Gwaine looked at Leon with an eyebrow raised. Leon inwardly cringed; he knew that look.
He hated that look.
“Let’s check it out. Uther could be dead for all we know.” And without even waiting for Leon to agree, Gwaine dragged him toward the dungeons, the guards closed behind.
Gwaine could feel something wrong with the way the dungeons felt the moment he stepped into the passageway there. It made his skin crawl and invaded his senses with decay. There was dark magic being used in these cells. It was a wonder the guards hadn’t alerted anyone sooner. He led the way down to Uther’s cell, pulling his sword just in case he had to poke the old king’s body for proof of death.
Leon unlocked the door and let it swing open, both he and Gwaine leaned forward into the room to look around and spotted Uther sitting with his back against one wall, head turned toward them slightly, a blank look on his face. Honestly, he didn’t look any better than any other man who’d been imprisoned for two years. A slow blink of his eyes confirmed that, yes he was alive, just…unresponsive.
“There, you see?” said Leon, stepping back from the cell. Gwaine however, frowned and squinted at Uther’s face.
“No…there’s something wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” scoffed Leon. “He’s fine, look-!”
Gwaine pulled a heavy metal compass out of one of the pouches on his belt, weighed it in his hand, than chucked it at the king’s body, watching as it bounced off his forehead and into his lap. Uther remained stationary, still blinking slowly in the general direction of the door. Leon cocked his head to the side in confusion.
“What the hell was that?”
“Magic,” declared Gwaine simply, paused and swore loudly, turning onto the guard. “Get the King, NOW!”
The guard hurried off and Leon looked back into the cell. Uther’s body struggled for a moment, and then settled back against the wall. “What kind of magic is it?”
“Some sort of animation cast,” mumbled Gwaine, looking at the compass regretfully. “He’s either: dead and someone tried cover it up by animating his corpse and the spell is fading or Uther’s not there and someone glamoured something to look like him and it is fading.”
“How long do you think he’s been…gone?” asked Leon, fumbling for lack of a better word. Gwaine shrugged.
“Depends on the caster I guess. I’m not going to pretend I know anything more than what I eavesdrop on Mordred saying.”
“That’s pathetic. You have a whole city full of Druids and you pick the youngest one to learn from?” Gwaine and Leon turned, startled by the sudden presence of Merlin, Arthur and Gaius behind them. Gwaine’s face broke out into a grin, reaching out to clap Merlin on the shoulder.
“You’re just in time for me to thank you for saving my ass all those years ago in that pub I can’t remember the name of. I vowed not to leave Camelot until you returned to accept my gratitude.”
“And now that he has?” asked Arthur with a raised brow. Gwaine grinned cheekily.
“You must have grown on me, m’lord.”
Arthur shook his head, amused. “What’s going on then? The guard said there was magic in Uther’s cell?”
Gwaine jerked his head in the direction of the cell, stepping away from the doorway to let the others inside. Merlin sniffed the air, earning a raised eyebrow from Gaius.
“You can feel that, then?” asked Merlin, following Arthur into the cell. “That’s dark magic, and the smell is rotting flesh.”
“So he is dead?” asked Gwaine, looking round the doorway to watched Merlin cross the room to squat in front of Uther. Arthur stood on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin muttered something under his breath and the glamour placed on Uther faded, revealing a decomposed Alvarr in his place. Merlin jerked back as the sudden overwhelming smell of death filled the room. Arthur looked away from the corpse while Gwaine and Leon both pulled out of the cell, coughing at the smell.
“Alvarr,” coughed Merlin, standing quickly and backing away from the body. “Goddess, who would have-?”
“Morgause,” finished Arthur. “She must have replaced Uther with the corpse and spelled it in his form.”
“Why Morgause?” asked Gaius, heading for Alvarr’s body to examine it.
“A number of reasons,” said Arthur. “But she is the only other person who knew Alvarr was dead.”
“And what makes you think it wasn’t me?” asked Merlin, turning to Arthur. The king waved him off.
“You said it yourself, dark magic was used. The sun practically shines out of your ass, there’s no way you’d do this.”
“Thanks, Arthur….I think.”
“I think it’s time that Balinor gave you his news, sire,” suggested Gaius, looking back at the king. Merlin nodded seriously.
“If I thought something like this had happened we would have told you straight away.”
“Tell me what?” Merlin held up his hands in defense.
“Honestly I don’t know. Something about the dragon hybrids and the castle of the Fisher King.”
“Does Balinor think Uther’s behind it?” asked Gaius.
“He thinks Morgause is.”
“It’s more than that sire,” said Balinor not ten minutes later, standing in front of Arthur, Morgana and Mordred in the throne room. Merlin was standing beside him, his hands clasped behind his back looking serious. “I have reason to believe that the dragons are part of an army Morgause is creating. Their migration patterns for this time of year are incorrect; they should be stationary in the mountains for the coming winter.”
“We think Morgause took Uther some time ago,” said Arthur, resting his chin on his thumb thoughtfully.
“Do you think they plan to attack Camelot?” asked Morgana, looking to Arthur. He nodded.
“I think we have to prepare for the possibility.”
“And the festival?” asked Mordred. Arthur sighed.
“Continue as planned. I won’t take a celebration from the city,” Arthur looked at Merlin. “You said something about the castel of the Fisher King?”
“It’s where the dragons have been heading,” explained Balinor. “Quite possibly where the former king and the priestess are hiding.”
“Dangerous. Especially if they’ve unsealed the Fisher King’s chambers,” muttered Mordred and Arthur agreed.
“And the last place anyone would look for them.”
.
Morgause sat patiently in her appropriated throne, watching Uther pace back and forth in front of her. She’d grown used to his idiosyncrasies even if they did grate on her something terrible. She sighed inwardly as Uther snapped something in Latin at one of their…adopted soldiers. And her Latin was terrible.
“Uther, don’t harass,” she said dryly. The three years they’d spent together they spent quietly building up an army of foreign knights and rebel Druids. Uther insisted on collaring the Druids with metal to prevent them from channeling their magic and in turn Morgause insisted he wait patiently for results instead of stomping into Camelot and trying to take the kingdom by force. It was Camelot for Goddess sake and with Arthur’s rule their defense only became stronger.
Uther spared Morgause a glare and resumed his pacing, hands clasped behind his back. She followed him with her eyes until he finally stopped and turned to her. “You’re convinced it will work?”
Morgause sighed heavily and stood, placing a hand on Uther’s shoulder and leading him to the stone basin in the center of the room.
“I told you what I saw,” explained Morgause slowly. “Mordred is the key to overthrowing Arthur. Corrupting him to our cause gives you the advantage.”
“Killing him would give me an advantage,” snapped Uther. “That child is a monster. I should have-”
“Killed him yourself when he was born yes, Uther, I know,” interrupted Morgause exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. She touched the waters in the basin and brought her vision forward, though Uther couldn’t see it.
“Merlin will pose a problem. When he returns we’ll have to strike.”
“I can’t believe that idiot is who you claim,” hissed Uther. “I allowed him to stand at Arthur’s side to-”
“Corrupt him, yes you’ve mentioned,” finished Morgause. Really, the man needed more diverse speeches. “Killing him will be my pleasure. I’ve earned that.”
“When he returns we take Mordred,” started Uther. “Though I don’t understand why we can’t just kill him. Arthur would bring the fight to us, on our territory.”
“He would still have Merlin. And Morgana,” added Morguase. “Both of whom are far more powerful than they were when you left. By taking Mordred we can use him to our advantage.”
“Fine. It’s nearly sundown.”
“Good!” said Morgause brightly, clapping her hands together and pulling away from Uther.
Uther crossed the room to the window, bracing his forearm against the window pane and looking down below them at the desolate village below. A Wyvern flashed passed the window, his wings grazing the glass. Uther blinked at it, not nearly as startled as he had been in the years before. He’d gotten used to the playfully malicious intent the dragons had with the castle.
“There,” said Uther, pointing out the window to a small bird making its way closer. Morgause looked up at him.
“Always on time,” she muttered, watching Uther crack the window open far enough for the bird to soar in without any Wyvern’s taking advantage. It was a red kite, with a slip of parchment tied around one leg. It landed on the arm of Morguase’s throne and waited patiently, eyeing the sorceress in what Uther would consider contempt. Morguase made quick work of the note, unrolling it and scanning the contents quickly. She froze.
“What is it?” asked Uther, heading to Morguase when she remained quiet for too long. She handed him the note when he was close enough.
Merlin has returned to Camelot.
next
Author: darkmagic_luvr
Warnings: Consensual incest, consentual sex between minors, age gap flirting, main character death, angst, Merlin’s tears…cliffhanger? Sequal foreshadowing.
Summary: There are some sins that cannot be forgiven; these sins of the father.
Disclaimer: In the beginning there are lines taken from the actual episodes of Sins of the Father. I do not own them, the characters or the original plot line for this episode.
back
No one spoke. Merlin took the opportunity to catch his breath, while Mordred scrambled to his feet and ran to Morgana’s side, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Mother…”
“Arthur’s here,” Merlin gasped, swallowing the bile climbing up his throat. Morgana turned with Mordred in her arms toward the entrance of the cave, where Arthur’s horse was skidding to stop, and his knights not far behind. Morgause made a noise in the back of her throat, struggling to stand. Merlin held his hand toward her threateningly, stilling her movements while Arthur dismounted and entered the cavern.
Arthur drew his sword as he neared, staring at Morgause. “You-!”
She interrupted him with a pained grin and gold in her eyes, disappearing in front of them without even uttering a spell. Arthur stopped short, his sword halfway up. His confusion was short lived however, when Morgana reached out to clutch his arm. He turned to her and Merlin watched his face go from confused to furious when he took in her appearance.
“You didn’t run all the way here,” he accused, dropping his sword to the ground so he could use both his hands to cup her face, tilting it upwards into the sunlight streaming in. She was dirty and bruised and alive and that was all that mattered.
Merlin had never personally seen Arthur look so relieved in the years he’d known the man. Eyes shining with unshed tears and his jaw clenched in frustration and a halfhearted attempt at hiding his emotions, he pulled Morgana into his chest roughly by the shoulders, wrapping his arms around her tightly and closing his eyes.
“I won’t even ask how you got here before me. Thank you for showing me the way.” Morgana looked up at him with a frown.
“I didn’t-“
“That was me,” interrupted Merlin, completely exhausted. He wanted to lean against the cavern walls or even just lie down and nap, but he resisted. Arthur pulled away from Morgana and stared at him; Mordred looked torn, why, Merlin didn’t know and he resisted trying to communicate with him. Arthur didn’t speak to him.
“Thank you, Merlin,” said Morgana, breaking the tension growing between Arthur and Merlin. She glanced at Arthur. “He did save us, Arthur.”
Arthur didn’t acknowledge her words; instead he turned away and kneeled in front of Mordred, running a hand over the side of his face.
“I’m alright, Father,” he murmured. Arthur nodded and stood.
“Back to Camelot, then.”
Merlin started forward, eyes widening. “Arthur what you said-“
“I meant it. Stay away, Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
Arthur looked at Morgana. “Go.” He whispered, nodding to the mouth of the cave. She hesitated, but finally took Mordred by the hand, leading him off. Arthur watched them go for a moment before closing his eyes and sighing.
“Stay away from Camelot, Merlin.”
“But I-!”
“Please,” Arthur begged, rounding on the other man. “Do not return to Camelot with us.”
Merlin’s chest was too tight to breathe. He was being exiled from Camelot; he was no longer worthy of being Arthur’s servant, his protector. His knees were going a bit weak as they stood together in the darkened cavern. Morgana and Mordred were waiting just beyond the mouth of the cave, along with the rest of the knights Arthur had brought with him.
“Have I betrayed you that badly?” asked Merlin weakly, hearing tears in his voice. Arthur looked away, his hands clenching audibly against the leather gloves. Merlin’s nostril’s flared with a fleeting anger. “I was protecting you-”
“Give me time, Merlin,” said Arthur softly. “You’ve no idea what this feels like, finding out your closest friend was harboring a secret that…I don’t trust you, Merlin.” finished Arthur, looking back up at him, and Merlin saw pain in his face. “I need to trust you. Give me time to do so again.”
Merlin let a puff of air escape his lips and he took half a step back, his boot scuffing against the rock floor. He lowered his head obediently, submissively, in agreement with Arthur’s words. He could not save the King if the King didn’t trust the man willing to save him.
He heard Arthur hesitate just a moment in his leave, and that alone gave Merlin hope enough that he would be allowed to return to Camelot someday. He listened to the sound of Arthur’s amour move away from him, out of the cave, and the sound of horses galloping away until there was nothing, nothing but silence. Merlin finally looked up, squinting out of the cave opening into the setting sun, pretending he could see King Arthur and his knights riding back to Camelot. He would wait. He would wait and he would not return to Camelot.
For now.
.
Leon pounded his fist against the solid wood door keeping him prisoner. The door locked from the outside and, unless he developed super powers, he wouldn’t be able to break it down. His shouting hadn’t alerted anyone in the castle so far, and he was beginning to think no one would come for him. He sighed and ceased thumping the door, dropping his forehead against it wearily.
Uther was probably already executing the people responsible for his capture; Gaius would be dead by now, that is, if he hadn’t been able to talk his way out. That physician knew too many tricks. Then there was Leon himself, who had arrested Uther on Arthur’s orders. He’d be a goner, just a matter of time for Uther to remember where he put him before he was executed.
He’d hate to think what Arthur might come back to.
“Bugger.” He muttered, banging his head on the door once for good measure. He stayed silent with his thoughts until the sound shuffling of feet caught his attention.
“Oi, someone down here?”
“Yes, yes!” shouted Leon, straightening against the door and hammering it with the palm of his hand. “Down here! At the end!”
Whoever it wasn’t didn’t hurry, despite the urgency in Leon’s voice. He growled to himself, wondering if the man was enjoying his leisurely stroll while the former king of Camelot went on a killing frenzy before the current one came back. Green eyes and shiny hair ducked into view through the slot in the door. Leon blinked, not recognizing him.
“Who the hell are you?”
Whoeverhewas cocked his head to the side, smirking with suspiciously good humor. “Is that really the way you’re going to treat your rescuer?”
Leon rolled his eyes. “Just let me out, we have to stop Uther.”
“Stop him from what?” asked the man conversationally, averting his eyes to the lock on the door and scraping what sounded like a knife into the lock.
“Well…” Leon struggled with his words for a moment, trying to piece them together in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a buffoon. The man glanced at him, as if he wanted to let Leon know that he was still paying attention. “He’s escaped, hasn’t he? And he’s going to realize that people with magic are residing in the city openly. He’ll have them rounded up and executed.”
“Oh,” said the nameless man a bit dryly. “He’s a bit mad, yeah?”
“No!” Leon watched his eyebrows quirked in a ‘sure-whatever-you-say’ sort of way. Leon opened his mouth to explain that Uther was just that way, when the man interrupted with an Ah!.
“Gotcha,” he muttered as the lock click and the door swung inwards. Leon stepped back for the door and looked up at the man who’d rescued him. He was dressed as a civilian, grinning at Leon broadly with a narrow dagger twirling between his fingers. “Now, what’s this you said about a mad king?”
“He’s not mad,” grumbled Leon, stalking through the doorway. His pride, however, had him stopped before he was past the other man and holding out his hand in thanks. “Sir Leon, knight of Camelot.”
His grin widened, if that was even possible. “Gwaine; pub goer, wooer of maidens, and amateur swordsman.”
“How’d you get into the castle?” asked Leon, shaking hands with Gwaine.
“My winning good looks?” offered Gwaine, following Leon as he headed out of the dungeons. “Or some bloke named Merlin…?”
“Ah, Merlin.” That made sense; Merlin was always bringing in stray men to the castle. Which sounded a bit like the servant fancied men, but that was fine so long as Gaius didn’t mind. Merlin did live with him after all. Speaking of Gaius….
“Need help with the tyrannical king who plans on murdering hundreds of innocent people?” asked Gwaine casually, stopping Leon as he raced up a flight of stairs. He received a dry, exasperated look from Leon and shrugged. “’Cause I’m free for the day.”
“Bloody fine,” muttered Leon, turning back around, then louder for Gwaine to hear. “We need to find Gaius.”
“Older gent with the scary eyebrows?” asked Gwaine, skipping every other step to catch up. Leon nodded, stopping again. “Yeah, he was arrested by one of the knights and taken to see ‘The King’.” Leon went a little pale, causing Gwaine to wince. “I assume that’s a bad thing?”
Leon’s silence spurred Gwaine to quicken his pace and keep his mouth shut. Their paces slowed as they neared a barricaded thrown room, a few dead knights slummed against the walls. Gwaine kneeled next to the first they came upon and checked the man’s pulse. His good humor completely vanished and he shook his head in disgust.
“Take his sword,” said Leon. “You’ll need to be armed.”
Gwaine nodded and picked up the fallen man’s weapon, testing the blade in his hand as he stood. “How many men do you think he has with him?”
“All of them, none of them, I can’t be sure.”
“Well,” began Gwaine, the cheer coming back to his voice. “Only one way to find out.”
There were guards at the doors just around the corridor, five or six, who fought with them. Only two had to die before the others surrendered and Gwaine made quick work of tying them together on the floor. Leon headed straight for the doors, pushing them open wide and striding in, swords raised, only to stop.
“Took you long enough.”
Gwaine rushed in behind Leon, skidding to a stop at his shoulder, staring down at Gaius sitting atop an unconscious Uther; empty goblets within arm’s reach. Leon stepped forward, mouth hanging open.
“How did you-?”
“Sleeping draught, one of Morgana’s at that. Powerful enough to knock out a horse. Uther didn’t stand a chance when I offered to drink to his reign.”
Leon shook his head. He’d never understand how Gaius managed to escape death time and again with only his words and a bit of potion. Gaius stood, dusting off his robes. “Ah, Gwaine, you’re awake.”
“And a hero already, it seems,” he said, leaning back on his heels. “Where’s Merlin? I’d like to thank him for saving my arse the other night.”
Gaiuse waved a hand. “Out on a hunting trip with Arthur and his son; they shouldn’t return for another few hours. In the meantime, get Uther back to his cell. Wouldn’t want Arthur to return with a sight like this to greet him, would we?”
Leon snapped to attention and quickly moved to Uther’s side, dragging the older man up and over his shoulders in order to carry him better. Gwaine followed, grinning and chattering on while Gaius stayed behind. He shook his head.
“Probably didn’t even need the hangover remedy,” he muttered after Gwaine disappeared with Leon and turned to where Uther had fallen and the two goblets lying on the ground. He’d laced the rim for Uther’s cup with a film, a leaf he’d taken from Nimueh’s book so Uther wouldn’t suspect anything foul. The old King had had murder in his eyes aimed for anyone who crossed him, including Arthur. Solitary had not been kind to Uther, and instead of reflecting upon what he’d done to cause such an event to occur he began blaming those in the right for his actions.
Sir Leon poked his head around the doors, glancing around before stopping on Gaius with a frown. “You’re still here? It’s fine I suppose, but Arthur’s returned.”
Gaius’ eyebrow rose in surprise; it was still early in the day. “Is he? And Morgana? Is she with him?”
Leon nodded. “Mordred too, both look unharmed, but you should probably come out to meet them just in case.”
“Of course, of course,” muttered Gaius, tucking both goblets into the sleeves of his robes and following Leon out to the courtyard. Gwaine was waiting for them, leaning against an abandoned cart picking his nails. He looked up when they got closer.
“Evidence all gone?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. Gaius returned a similar expression but kept silent. Leon fidgeted as Arthur’s party came into view.
“I think it’s best if we don’t tell Arthur,” suggested Gaius, folding his hands together in front of him. Leon sighed heavily in agreement, while Gwaine waved to the party nearing them.
“Cheer up mate, at least we figured out which guards were loyal to Uther before something really unfortunate happened.” Leon flashed Gwaine a rude hand sign, only causing the other man to roar with laughter.
“Sire!” called Gaius as Arthur, Mordred, Morgana and their knights pulled their horses to a stop. Morgana looked worse for the wear and Mordred was fidgeting slightly. It was Arthur’s silence and blank face as he dismounted that had the smile fading from the physician’s face. His eyes flickered back to the rest of the party. “Where’s Merlin?”
“Merlin is not returning to Camelot,” growled Arthur, stalking past Gaius and into the castle. Morgana looked as if she would like to follow him, as did Mordred, but Gaius turned his confused gaze onto Morgana, stopping her.
“What happened to Merlin?”
Mordred shook his head. “They know,” he said, then, after giving Gwaine a once over and an eyebrow raise, followed Arthur into the castle. Gaius turned his head to watch him go, then back at Morgana for an explanation. She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking.
“The magic,” she began. “Merlin’s magic. Arthur’s exiled him, just for the time being,” she added, seeing the look on Gaius’ face. “And you knew.”
“I-“
“Arthur will want to speak with you,” she said coldly, brushing past him. Gwaine whistled low under his breath, watching her flounce off.
“She’s married to the king?” he asked.
“Heavens no,” muttered Gaius. With a quick shake of his head he turned and left Leon and Gwaine together, heading for someone to shed light on these…unfortunate outcomes. “Merlin, what have you done?”
And not for the first time Kilgharrah gave him an answer. It was smug, dramatic and chock full of ‘get me out of here or I’ll eat you’ hidden in subtext. What Gaius sussed from the dragon was that Merlin had done magic in front of Arthur and it hadn’t gone well. And why would it when he had plenty of practice in the past to use magic unnoticed and the opportunity to do it subtly underfoot as always? Also, maybe without so much murder probably would have helped. Gaius wondered if Merlin would defy Arthur and return to Camelot anyways, to say goodbye or pick up supplies until things cooled down. He dismissed the thought after recalling the look on Arthur’s face when he told Gaius Merlin was not coming back. Merlin wouldn’t dare return.
“I just hope it’s not forever,” said Gaius to himself.
The dragon snorted in agreement. “Merlin still has a long way to go before Arthur is ready to create Avalon.”
“How long?” demanded Gaius. “How long before he returns?”
“That is completely up to Merlin.” Gaius nodded and turned to leave, having got what he came for from the dragon. He was nearly out of earshot when Kilgharrah spoke up to stop him.
“Keep an eye on the witch and her child until Merlin returns, physician,” he warned. Gaius suppressed an eye roll, but he couldn’t help the huff when he turned back around.
“You believe they’re still a threat?”
“I believe that Camelot will be betrayed. The war for Avalon is won, but there will be many battles before it is finished.”
“Many battles,” repeated Gaius softly. Yes, he figured there would be. He also thought that Merlin would be around for them. He would have to take it upon himself to advise Arthur. There was one thing though that the dragon hadn’t mentioned. “What of Uther, Dragon?”
Kilgharrah huffed, turning his head, the muscles in his wings tensing and Gaius prepared himself for the heavy beat of wings. “Uther Pendragon is no concern of mine any longer.”
.
Currently, Uther Pendragon was sitting against the wall of his cell, facing the door with his eyes closed and his head titled back. He’d not even had a chance to see Arthur; his son had refused to see him in the two months since arresting him. Arthur didn’t understand what was best for him; he didn’t know how to run a kingdom and absolutely didn’t know how to raise a child. Uther had done what he had to do, for the sake of his son and now…now he had to watch his kingdom suffer at the hands of a boy who didn’t think three steps ahead.
“What’s this? Not brooding are we?”
Uther’s eyes opened slowly, having grown used to hearing voices when he was alone. This one was different, this one was blonde. His heart skipped and he jumped, pressing back against the wall, holding one hand in front of him to keep her away.
“Witch.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me, Uther,” said Morgause, her dress collecting dirt and dust as she moved toward him. “You need me.”
“I need nothing from you,” spat Uther. “You’ve destroyed my son with lies!”
“Your fate is your own doing,” snapped Morgause. “You want it back?”
“I will not fall for any of your trickery. Leave me.”
“Fine,” shrugged Morgause, looking off and turning her body away from him. “I thought you might want my help to take back your kingdom, but-“
“Wait,” interrupted Uther, dropping his arm to his side and standing. “Help me take back my kingdom? By what means? Arthur’s death? Absolutely not.”
“Mordred will take the throne when Arthur dies, surely you know this?” Uther glared in response. “He’s likened to Arthur, and in the coming years their bond will only become tighter. He will take the throne willingly and continue what Arthur is doing, which is bringing about an era of magic-“
“That’s ridiculous! Arthur would never-!”
“It was the first thing he did when he overthrew you,” informed Morgause, shooting Uther a withering look.
Uther fell silent. He’d not known that Arthur would so quickly undo everything he’d accomplished in his war against magic. If it continued as quickly as Morgause was saying, in a matter of years Camelot would be crawling with magic filth. There was only one thing he could do to stop it. Morgause smiled softly at him as she read the decision in his eyes.
“The enemy of my enemy.”
“Arthur is not my enemy.”
“No, but we are both his, and you are both mine.”
Silent, Uther bowed his head and nodded. With a flash of sparks, the chains binding Uther’s wrists broke and clattered to the floor. Uther backed away from them quickly, as if afraid they would come to life. Morgause pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile.
“I do not trust you,” said Uther. “All I want is Arthur to realize he’s made a mistake allowing your kind to live in the city, much less at all.”
“If you want your throne, then you will come with me.”
“Where?”
Morgause held out a hand for him to take, eyes narrowed in arrogance. Uther took her proffered hand and braced himself. “To our army.”
P A R T . T W O
t h r e e . y e a r s . l a t e r
It was late summer in Camelot; hot and sticky and smells too pungent in the air. The grass was starting to brown in preparation for the coming autumn season and a relief for the dreadful heat waves of summer. Camelot had seen worse, but if anyone was alive to remember it as an excuse they stayed quiet. In the past three years, there had been far less death; mostly thanks to King Arthur. What death there was, was in the form of rebellion against those with magic, rebellion with those that did and a medley of executions long extended whilst Uther had tended to other matters. The Peace Treaty formed four years earlier with the Great Kings had held its standing. It seemed overall peace in Camelot was won.
Just the troubling issue of their unwed King filled the time of gossiping crones between their stands of trade goods. The bastard child of his was still a touchy subject, but Mordred was proving to be a capable knight, training with the guard and doing his best to live up to his father’s reputation. His magic, as well as Morgana’s, was known throughout the kingdom, which may have been the only reason some Druids felt safe in leaving the forests.
Perhaps though, what had changed the most was what had changed the least. Worn, leather boots stopped on top of a hill, the same one those feet had crossed years earlier. His clothing choice had not changed, nor his hair style and blue eyes, but there was something in his face; something newer and older at the same time. The faintest of scars swept along the side of his face, an injury he had tried to heal with magic by himself. He’d filled out in the chest a bit, still scrawny and frail looking, but not quite so obvious now.
“Gods,” he whispered to himself as his eyes misted at the sight of Camelot in all her glory against the sun. “It’s good to be home.”
He turned back to a grizzled looking man with a walking stick only a few steps behind. “Are you going to take all day to get there old man?” He ducked the heavy swing of the walking stick just in time to avoid a bruised jaw, weaving out of reach.
“Are you sure you want to come back now?” asked the older man, stopping at the top of the hill, his words stilling his companion’s footfalls. “There is never an end to the magic you can learn.”
“I’ll be alright, Father. This is…this is good.” Similar blue eyes closed briefly in understanding and the pair started walking again in silence, every now and then nudging each other playfully to keep themselves going.
Honestly, he wasn’t expecting much with his return, maybe a few looks from the knights he passed, or even a few of the Druids who might recognize him, but he managed to walk straight through Camelot without being stopped once. If he was disappointed in the welcome, it didn’t show, but the closer he got to the castle the deeper the feeling of uneasy became in his stomach. What if nothing had changed? What if everything had?
The courtyard outside the castle was bustling with people, and for a moment he feared there was an execution about to take place (because wouldn’t that just top off his whole return? Another execution to welcome him), but it looked rather more like an event, with servants running around with silks and silver.
There was a skinny boy with dark brown hair speaking to a plump man with a large copper kettle in his hands, who looked like a rounder version of the royal cook three years prior. The boy (who was just taller than Merlin had been at that age) turned and pointed off in a different direction then the one the cook had been heading in. Merlin sucked in a breath in astonishment, seeing the younger man’s face.
“Mordred…” His father glanced at him with a frown.
“The King’s son?” Merlin nodded, then snorted softly and shook his head.
“He looks just like Arthur.”
Mordred looked at them just then, his face going blank. Then a familiar voice broke through the silence in Merlin’s head, matured over the few years he’d been gone. Emrys? Then aloud. “Merlin?”
He didn’t say anything in return, just inclined is head slightly. A grin broke across Mordred’s face, a testament to how far Camelot had brought him.
Hello, Mordred. Mordred turned his head, looking away as if someone had called him and after a moment’s hesitation, turned back and beckoned Merlin forward with a nod.
Father doesn’t know you’re here?
No, should he?
You’ve missed a lot, Merlin. The Druids in the court would have told him, if they knew you were coming back.
I’m clever like that, I suppose.
Mordred gave him a slow once-over once he stopped close enough to be able to see him clearly. “Yes, I suppose so.” He nodded toward the castle. “This way.”
Besides the people he didn’t recognize, the castle was virtually the same in Merlin’s eyes. Maybe a new tapestry here and a replaced window pane there, but it still felt like home. It was home. The trio walked in silence, Merlin noting that Mordred hadn’t asked him who the man with him was. Balinor wouldn’t have informed the prince who he was and who he was to Merlin without express grief from his son on proper manners.
Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and glare over his shoulder at his father for skipping important, civilized things like hygiene and not trusting a pubescent mind reader.
“You’ve started speaking more,” commented Merlin. Mordred sighed in exasperation.
“I have to don’t I? Father says politics are a drag, but they must be obeyed for things to run smoothly.”
“And who taught Arthur that?” asked Merlin, trying not to sound as amused as he was.
“Gaius did.”
Merlin nearly stopped in his tracks. Gaius. He’d forgotten to ask if the old man who had treated him like a son or a really annoying nephew was still alive and well. And obviously he was, consulting the king on matters like politics. Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably and changed the subject.
“Where are we going?”
Mordred turned his head just enough so Merlin could see the smirk on his face. To see the king, obviously.
Merlin really did stop this time, causing Balinor to run into him with a curse. “Right now?”
Of course right now, you twit. What else do you have to do?
Merlin muttered something under his breath about maybe having a wash or something to eat, but Mordred was ignoring him and still walking. Balinor gave him a small shove forward (it was actually a big shove, in which Merlin stumbled forward and nearly fell flat on his face) and continued walking as well. Merlin grimaced at their backs, looked away uncomfortably and then quickly followed behind.
“What if-?”
“Father’s been having a festival arranged. Mother’s idea, she wanted something to celebrate the autumn equinox.”
“That’s not for another two weeks,” commented Balinor, glancing at the backside of a passing serving girl. Merlin cuffed him for it out of habit more than annoyance. He shook his head and explained to his father.
“If it’s involving the whole of Camelot, preparing enough food, drink and entertainment would take…”
“About a month and a half so far,” finished Mordred. “Luckily it’s almost over, because it’s driving Father mad.”
“Speaking of...” started Merlin under his breath as they turned down a familiar corridor. The doors to the great hall were open and inventing, but to Merlin looked nothing but ominous. His pace slowed to a stop just outside the doors, his fingers brushing against the smooth wood he’d long ago traded for scratchy bark. He watched as a grin pulled Mordred’s face when he entered; Balinor stopped at Merlin’s shoulder.
“Go on, then. I’m not sure the King would take much to me, not knowing who I am.”
“Maybe you were right,” muttered Merlin. “Maybe coming back was a mistake.”
“It’s too late now,” said Balinor as gently as his gravelly voice would allow. Merlin swallowed.
“I’m not the same person I was back then,” said Merlin to himself. “I can do this-”
“Then go, boy!” Balinor grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and pushed him after Mordred, nearly running the smaller boy over when he ran into him.
Ouch-
Not my fault, snapped Merlin quickly, straightening them both and looking around to see if anyone had noticed. There were about five knights to his right going over a map of the city, one Merlin didn’t recognize glanced from it momentarily to spare Mordred a look. There were servants polishing the windows and dusting around the room, paying them no head whatsoever, completely absorbed in their work. And then there was Arthur, standing next to a bald Druid man with an excessively long mustache holding a vellum text which Arthur was reading. Merlin felt his heart beat quicken, blood pounding in his ears. Arthur looked mostly the same, maybe a little older, defiantly a little more tired looking, but he was still Arthur. Merlin swallowed and tried to calm his nerves with a slow breath.
Mordred shifted on his feet next to him, looking uncomfortable to interrupt whatever it was Arthur and the Druid were discussing. “Father?”
Arthur didn’t look up at his son’s voice, concentrating on what he was reading. “Yes?”
Mordred opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a moment, grimacing at whatever it was he had been planning to say. Arthur looked up after a minute of no response. “Mordred? What is it?”
“Arthur.” Merlin felt his heartbeat quicken, he hadn’t meant to speak. Arthur’s eyes slammed onto him, a blank mask crashing over his face when he recognized Merlin face.
“Merlin.” The Druid looked up, startled at the name. The knights huddled together over their map stopped their chatter and looked at Merlin as well. There was an uncomfortable silence where Merlin thought of the millions of things that Arthur might do, and Mordred’s silence wasn’t helping him.
“Leave us,” said Arthur finally, handing the vellum in his hands back to the Druid, who bowed out of the room quickly. The knights hesitated before they left as well, looking between their king and the warlock worriedly. Balinor shut the double doors behind them and dropped back against them with a sigh. Merlin’s mind was racing, trying to come up with something to say.
“Hi,” Merlin managed lamely, dropping his eyes to the ground. He felt more than saw Mordred rolling his eyes. Arthur raised an eyebrow in silent response.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well…” started Merlin, clasping in hands behind his back and walking forward slowly. “It’s been three years. A lot can change in that amount of time, and I was just thinking that…maybe…” Merlin stopped close enough to Arthur to be able to reach out and touch him. He felt his face start to fall at the blank look Arthur still wore. “Has it been long enough?”
Arthur’s eyes widened a fraction at Merlin’s question. “I…” Merlin saw the hesitation in his face, and his heart sank. It hadn’t been enough time, Arthur still didn’t trust him. He turned to go when Arthur’s hand shot out to grab him. Merlin blinked, startled, and Arthur looked about the same. His eyes flashed to Mordred, and he let him go.
Arthur cleared his throat. “You can stay, it hasn’t been…I mean, if you would like to stay…”
“I would.”
Arthur nodded firmly and looked away. “Good.”
Again, Merlin felt Mordred roll his eyes, this time at Arthur, who rolled his eyes at him right back. He pulled away from his awkward proximity to Merlin and headed toward his son, ruffling his hair in passing, making Mordred frown. “Morgana will be interested to see you,” he directed toward Merlin.
“Will she?”
“Mother’s been learning spells from Gaius and me,” explained Mordred. “As much as we can. Our magics are different.”
“Well, I should probably-“
“Who is this?” interrupted Arthur, pointing at Balinor, who had remained silent through the conversation. He inclined his head respectively.
“Just passing through with a message, sire.”
“It can wait,” said Merlin. “Arthur, this is Balinor. The last Dragonlord, and my father.”
“Dragonlord,” repeated Arthur under his breath, holding out his hand for Balinor to shake. “I thought Uther whipped them out, along with the dragons?”
“I did say he was the last,” said Merlin cheekily. Arthur ignored him, Balinor sent him a dry look, and Mordred looked like he very much wanted to drop his face against the wall. Several times. Balinor turned his attention back to the King.
“I do seek your counsel, sire,” said Balinor, changing the topic. “Nothing that requires immediate attention, just a warning.”
“We’ll talk later,” promised Arthur. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, and I still have duties to complete today.”
“In the morning then,” suggested Balinor, which Arthur confirmed with a nod. “Merlin and I will leave you.”
Merlin resisted the urge to be petulant and reply with something like ‘you’re not the boss of me’, but he did want to escape the uncomfortable tension between him and Arthur. He wanted to find Gaius, he’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye and the last thing he wanted was some random passerby mentioning he was back.
There was an awkward shuffling around as Merlin tried to move around Arthur as quickly as possible, sliding after Balinor as the older man pushed open one of the doors. As he led Balinor down the familiar passages to Gaius’ chambers he heard Mordred’s voice through the still open door.
“Did you feel that? That’s what happens when raw, ancient magic is bound within a vessel that can control it.”
“He’s stronger then?”
“Totally. Also, that conversation could have gone better.”
Merlin turned a corner and whatever Arthur’s response had been was muffled in the stones. Balinor tapped his ankle with his staff, catching his attention.
“Where are we going son?”
“To see Gauis.”
They weren’t three steps to the physician’s door when it swung open, revealing Gaius in the doorway. There was a book in his hand which he promptly used to smack Merlin on the nose. His eyes immediately watered.
“What in Goddess-?!”
“That is for revealing your magic in front of Arthur and getting yourself banished from Camelot,” huffed Gaius, holding up a hand to prevent Merlin from speaking. Merlin opened his mouth in frustration, while Balinor stood behind him looking amused. “No contact in three years? Did Arthur ban you from picking up a pen as well?”
Merlin cleared his throat. “Sorry, Gaius.”
Gaius shook his head and beckoned Merlin into a hug. “You’re back now, that’s what matters.”
“Gaius,” started Merlin, pulling back slightly form his mentor and turning to Balinor. “This is my father-”
“Balinor. Yes, we’ve met.”
“It’s good to see you, Gaius.”
“Of course you know each other,” grumbled Merlin. “Figures. I spent three months wandering around in the forest, and I bet you could have told me exactly where he was.”
“Of course I could have, who do you think you’re speaking to?”
“It took you four months to find me, Merlin.”
“Did it really? I thought he knew how to navigate.”
Merlin stopped listening as Balinor and Gaius chatted away about his uselessness alone in the wood. He glanced into Gaius’ chambers to see if anything had changed, when Gwen’s familiar curls caught Merlin’s eye at the end of the corridor. He broke away from Gaius and Balinor to chase after her. “Gwen!”
She stopped and turned at her name, her eyebrows shooting up when she recognized Merlin. He slowed to a stop in front of her, smiling widely and breathlessly. He stared at her for a long moment and pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh, it’s good to see you.”
Gwen cleared her throat and pulled away, pushing her hair behind her ears. Merlin’s smile wavered. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Merlin,” she said quickly. He ducked down until they were eyelevel.
“You don’t look fine. You look angry, is everything alright? Has Arthur done something-?”
“Why would Arthur do anything to me? He’s too busy being a father and a King.” Merlin frowned, straightening up.
“You’re not…What’s happened while I’ve been gone?”
Gwen’s lips faintly twisted in disgust. “Mordred’s become the crown prince of Camelot, and Morgana has practically forced the kingdom against the Christian God. Arthur won’t talk to me, it’s like everything I meant to him has just faded away. Not to mention all the bloody magic,” snapped Gwen. “Magic is dangerous Merlin. And the Druids don’t care at all what could happen when they use their magic.”
“And why should they? They know what they’re doing,” said Merlin slowly. Gwen shook her head.
“It’s thinking like that, that has Morgana believing she can control herself.”
Merlin was confused, this was not the kind of attitude Gwen had when he left. “I never knew you were so against magic.”
Gwen looked away. “It’s not…natural-”
“You mean it’s not fair?” prodded Merlin, ducking his head to catch her eyes once again. “Because Uther killed your father when he was suspected of using magic?”
“No, because it’s evil,” Gwen blurted out. “And I can’t believe the chaos you’ve cause by coming to Camelot. There’s never been so much magic exposed until you showed up, and now everyone knows why.”
“Are you blaming me for something?” asked Merlin, feeling a bit dazed. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t how his reunion with Gwen was supposed to go. He had missed her most of all; she was his friend and he loved her. Gwen sucked in a breath and straightened her back, staring straight past Merlin and at the wall behind him.
“Everything would be so different if not for you.”
“Yes it would,” said Merlin softly. Gwen walked off quickly, not sparing him another glance.
She’s been like that since you left. Merlin turned his head to see Mordred leaning against the wall of a service entrance. He shook his head. She blames me mostly. Something about being the gateway that opened the cesspool of our kind into Camelot to corrupt it’s ruler.
“Or something?” asked Merlin sarcastically, Mordred rolled his eyes and Merlin took the moment to appreciate the man Mordred was growing into. “You really do look like Arthur. He’s proud of you, I can tell.”
Mordred shrugged. He’s…he’s my father. I don’t know, I guess he’s grown on me.
“And Morgana?” asked Merlin. “Where is she?”
“Practicing,” said Mordred, pushing away from the wall and heading in the direction Gwen had come from. “She’s taken over a drawing room so she doesn’t get in the way when she does her magic. She probably doesn’t know you’re here yet.”
“Really? What about her premonitions, or even scrying-?”
“She really can’t see anything that doesn’t have to do with Arthur unless she concentrates,” interrupted Mordred. “Father banned her from doing it after the last time she tried.”
“What happened?”
Mordred shrugged. “She set the North West wing of the castle on fire.”
Merlin nodded, slightly impressed. “Brilliant.”
They took three flights of stairs and had to duck under a tapestry hiding a fourth before they reached Morgana’s personal drawing room. The door wasn’t locked, but there were voices coming from inside. Merlin placed a hand on Mordred’s shoulder to still his movement when he recognized Arthur’s.
What are-
Shh.
“-there any actual reason why you interrupted my studying or were you just bored and wanted a chat, Arthur?” Arthur snorted, and Merlin heard him sit heavily in a chair.
“It’s about Merlin.”
“Again?” snorted Morgana. “If you want him back in Camelot, Arthur, you’ll have to find him.”
“He’s returned, Morgana.”
“…Oh,” Morgana paused and something heavy and metal was placed on a table. “And? How did that go?”
Arthur cleared his throat and Morgana scoffed at him. “Arthur…you didn’t say anything stupid did you?”
“He caught me off guard!” he said loudly, defending himself. “When you tell someone you don’t want them to come back, you assume they won’t until you ask them to.”
“Yes, and Merlin’s always done everything you asked.” Merlin smirked, imagining Morgana rolling her eyes at Arthur. Oh yes, he missed her. Arthur grumbled something under his breath that Merlin didn’t catch and Morgana seemed to ignore.
“Go on, where is he now?”
Arthur sighed heavily. “I’ve got no idea. Probably with Gaius.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s back in any case,” admitted Morgana. “And I really hope he and Mordred are enjoying our conversation outside the door.”
Merlin winced as the door was pulled open, Morgana on the other side with her eyebrows quirked in amusement. Arthur appeared behind her moments later.
“Really, Merlin?”
“I used to be so much better at spying,” said Merlin wistfully. He gave Morgana a once over. She wasn’t dressed as she usually was; she was wearing trousers and a loose tunic, her hair bound at her neck to keep from getting in her way. Arthur was dressed casually as well; his more formal wear most likely discarded for his time spent away from public eyes.
“This was not my idea,” muttered Mordred, taking a step away from Merlin. “I just brought him to see you.”
“You practice your magic in here?” asked Merlin, glancing around the door frame as best he could to see inside. Morgana beamed and stepped away from the doorway, elbowing Arthur out of the way to let Merlin inside.
It was impressive. Candles filled the room from floor to ceiling, leather bound books stacked in the corners. There was a small round table in the center of the room with two velvet covered chairs. Bowls of various shapes and materials placed on a shelf beside vials of flora and potions. Merlin nodded his approval.
“Did Gaius give you my book of magic?” asked Merlin, turning back to Morgana. She nodded and pointed to one of the chairs, where the familiar leather book lay open.
“I found quite a few familiar things,” she commented vaguely. “Your time here makes so much more sense now.”
“Yeah…about that-“
“We’ll catch up later, Merlin,” insisted Morgana. “I do expect you to teach me, after all.”
A smile broke over Merlin’s face. “I’d be honored to.”
“Tomorrow morning then? And I want to hear about everything you’ve done in the last three years.”
.
Gwaine was bored. Gwaine was bored and Leon was no fun, as usual. He sighed, looking over at his companion, reached over, and punched him in the shoulder. “Hey, Leon.”
“Ah-! What?”
“I’m bored, want to go train?”
“You don’t have to punch me for that,” muttered Leon. Gwaine grinned broadly and ignored him, clapping him on the chest.
“Let’s go, there’s nothing better to do.” Leon sighed in agreement and made to follow him.
“We could-”
“Oi!” Leon and Gwaine turned back around as one of the guards from the prison jogged up to them. Gwaine nodded in greeting, while Leon just folded his arms over his chest. “Glad I caught you two.”
“What can we help you with?” asked Gwiane.
“Something odd’s been happening in Uther Pendragon’s cell.”
Leon straightened slightly. “Odd how?”
The guard shrugged. “Dunno. Everyone’s too wary to go down there more than twice in a row. But I’ve brought him his food the past week, and he hasn’t moved.”
“There’s not unusual,” said Leon dismissively, turning to continue down the hall, but Gwaine stopped him.
“What do you mean ‘he won’t move’?”
“I mean he won’t move. Not even a blink in my direction.”
Gwaine looked at Leon with an eyebrow raised. Leon inwardly cringed; he knew that look.
He hated that look.
“Let’s check it out. Uther could be dead for all we know.” And without even waiting for Leon to agree, Gwaine dragged him toward the dungeons, the guards closed behind.
Gwaine could feel something wrong with the way the dungeons felt the moment he stepped into the passageway there. It made his skin crawl and invaded his senses with decay. There was dark magic being used in these cells. It was a wonder the guards hadn’t alerted anyone sooner. He led the way down to Uther’s cell, pulling his sword just in case he had to poke the old king’s body for proof of death.
Leon unlocked the door and let it swing open, both he and Gwaine leaned forward into the room to look around and spotted Uther sitting with his back against one wall, head turned toward them slightly, a blank look on his face. Honestly, he didn’t look any better than any other man who’d been imprisoned for two years. A slow blink of his eyes confirmed that, yes he was alive, just…unresponsive.
“There, you see?” said Leon, stepping back from the cell. Gwaine however, frowned and squinted at Uther’s face.
“No…there’s something wrong.”
“What are you talking about?” scoffed Leon. “He’s fine, look-!”
Gwaine pulled a heavy metal compass out of one of the pouches on his belt, weighed it in his hand, than chucked it at the king’s body, watching as it bounced off his forehead and into his lap. Uther remained stationary, still blinking slowly in the general direction of the door. Leon cocked his head to the side in confusion.
“What the hell was that?”
“Magic,” declared Gwaine simply, paused and swore loudly, turning onto the guard. “Get the King, NOW!”
The guard hurried off and Leon looked back into the cell. Uther’s body struggled for a moment, and then settled back against the wall. “What kind of magic is it?”
“Some sort of animation cast,” mumbled Gwaine, looking at the compass regretfully. “He’s either: dead and someone tried cover it up by animating his corpse and the spell is fading or Uther’s not there and someone glamoured something to look like him and it is fading.”
“How long do you think he’s been…gone?” asked Leon, fumbling for lack of a better word. Gwaine shrugged.
“Depends on the caster I guess. I’m not going to pretend I know anything more than what I eavesdrop on Mordred saying.”
“That’s pathetic. You have a whole city full of Druids and you pick the youngest one to learn from?” Gwaine and Leon turned, startled by the sudden presence of Merlin, Arthur and Gaius behind them. Gwaine’s face broke out into a grin, reaching out to clap Merlin on the shoulder.
“You’re just in time for me to thank you for saving my ass all those years ago in that pub I can’t remember the name of. I vowed not to leave Camelot until you returned to accept my gratitude.”
“And now that he has?” asked Arthur with a raised brow. Gwaine grinned cheekily.
“You must have grown on me, m’lord.”
Arthur shook his head, amused. “What’s going on then? The guard said there was magic in Uther’s cell?”
Gwaine jerked his head in the direction of the cell, stepping away from the doorway to let the others inside. Merlin sniffed the air, earning a raised eyebrow from Gaius.
“You can feel that, then?” asked Merlin, following Arthur into the cell. “That’s dark magic, and the smell is rotting flesh.”
“So he is dead?” asked Gwaine, looking round the doorway to watched Merlin cross the room to squat in front of Uther. Arthur stood on the other side, his arms crossed over his chest. Merlin muttered something under his breath and the glamour placed on Uther faded, revealing a decomposed Alvarr in his place. Merlin jerked back as the sudden overwhelming smell of death filled the room. Arthur looked away from the corpse while Gwaine and Leon both pulled out of the cell, coughing at the smell.
“Alvarr,” coughed Merlin, standing quickly and backing away from the body. “Goddess, who would have-?”
“Morgause,” finished Arthur. “She must have replaced Uther with the corpse and spelled it in his form.”
“Why Morgause?” asked Gaius, heading for Alvarr’s body to examine it.
“A number of reasons,” said Arthur. “But she is the only other person who knew Alvarr was dead.”
“And what makes you think it wasn’t me?” asked Merlin, turning to Arthur. The king waved him off.
“You said it yourself, dark magic was used. The sun practically shines out of your ass, there’s no way you’d do this.”
“Thanks, Arthur….I think.”
“I think it’s time that Balinor gave you his news, sire,” suggested Gaius, looking back at the king. Merlin nodded seriously.
“If I thought something like this had happened we would have told you straight away.”
“Tell me what?” Merlin held up his hands in defense.
“Honestly I don’t know. Something about the dragon hybrids and the castle of the Fisher King.”
“Does Balinor think Uther’s behind it?” asked Gaius.
“He thinks Morgause is.”
“It’s more than that sire,” said Balinor not ten minutes later, standing in front of Arthur, Morgana and Mordred in the throne room. Merlin was standing beside him, his hands clasped behind his back looking serious. “I have reason to believe that the dragons are part of an army Morgause is creating. Their migration patterns for this time of year are incorrect; they should be stationary in the mountains for the coming winter.”
“We think Morgause took Uther some time ago,” said Arthur, resting his chin on his thumb thoughtfully.
“Do you think they plan to attack Camelot?” asked Morgana, looking to Arthur. He nodded.
“I think we have to prepare for the possibility.”
“And the festival?” asked Mordred. Arthur sighed.
“Continue as planned. I won’t take a celebration from the city,” Arthur looked at Merlin. “You said something about the castel of the Fisher King?”
“It’s where the dragons have been heading,” explained Balinor. “Quite possibly where the former king and the priestess are hiding.”
“Dangerous. Especially if they’ve unsealed the Fisher King’s chambers,” muttered Mordred and Arthur agreed.
“And the last place anyone would look for them.”
.
Morgause sat patiently in her appropriated throne, watching Uther pace back and forth in front of her. She’d grown used to his idiosyncrasies even if they did grate on her something terrible. She sighed inwardly as Uther snapped something in Latin at one of their…adopted soldiers. And her Latin was terrible.
“Uther, don’t harass,” she said dryly. The three years they’d spent together they spent quietly building up an army of foreign knights and rebel Druids. Uther insisted on collaring the Druids with metal to prevent them from channeling their magic and in turn Morgause insisted he wait patiently for results instead of stomping into Camelot and trying to take the kingdom by force. It was Camelot for Goddess sake and with Arthur’s rule their defense only became stronger.
Uther spared Morgause a glare and resumed his pacing, hands clasped behind his back. She followed him with her eyes until he finally stopped and turned to her. “You’re convinced it will work?”
Morgause sighed heavily and stood, placing a hand on Uther’s shoulder and leading him to the stone basin in the center of the room.
“I told you what I saw,” explained Morgause slowly. “Mordred is the key to overthrowing Arthur. Corrupting him to our cause gives you the advantage.”
“Killing him would give me an advantage,” snapped Uther. “That child is a monster. I should have-”
“Killed him yourself when he was born yes, Uther, I know,” interrupted Morgause exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. She touched the waters in the basin and brought her vision forward, though Uther couldn’t see it.
“Merlin will pose a problem. When he returns we’ll have to strike.”
“I can’t believe that idiot is who you claim,” hissed Uther. “I allowed him to stand at Arthur’s side to-”
“Corrupt him, yes you’ve mentioned,” finished Morgause. Really, the man needed more diverse speeches. “Killing him will be my pleasure. I’ve earned that.”
“When he returns we take Mordred,” started Uther. “Though I don’t understand why we can’t just kill him. Arthur would bring the fight to us, on our territory.”
“He would still have Merlin. And Morgana,” added Morguase. “Both of whom are far more powerful than they were when you left. By taking Mordred we can use him to our advantage.”
“Fine. It’s nearly sundown.”
“Good!” said Morgause brightly, clapping her hands together and pulling away from Uther.
Uther crossed the room to the window, bracing his forearm against the window pane and looking down below them at the desolate village below. A Wyvern flashed passed the window, his wings grazing the glass. Uther blinked at it, not nearly as startled as he had been in the years before. He’d gotten used to the playfully malicious intent the dragons had with the castle.
“There,” said Uther, pointing out the window to a small bird making its way closer. Morgause looked up at him.
“Always on time,” she muttered, watching Uther crack the window open far enough for the bird to soar in without any Wyvern’s taking advantage. It was a red kite, with a slip of parchment tied around one leg. It landed on the arm of Morguase’s throne and waited patiently, eyeing the sorceress in what Uther would consider contempt. Morguase made quick work of the note, unrolling it and scanning the contents quickly. She froze.
“What is it?” asked Uther, heading to Morguase when she remained quiet for too long. She handed him the note when he was close enough.
Merlin has returned to Camelot.
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