Fic: Merlin; G/PG; Equilibrium - Chapter 9
Title: Equilibrium (9/9 + Epilogue)
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G/PG
Wordcount: This part: 3845, Overall ~44000
Pairing/Characters: Merlin, Nimueh, Arthur, Percival (OC), Uther, Gaius
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, nor any of the characters. The version of Arthurian legend this was inspired by/based on belongs to the Beeb.
Warnings: Vague corruption of Arthurian Legend
Spoilers: Up to Excalibur
Author’s Note: Many thanks to the wonderful wrennette for the beta work and everyone who's still reading. Also, this was written before the finale, so… any resemblance to it is purely coincidental
Summary: In this part: Merlin strikes a bargain and both he and Arthur discover some secrets about each other.
Previous Chapters: 1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8
“Your Prince has proven himself and my decoy has been discovered,” Merlin watched as Nimueh waved her hand once more over the bowl and the images dissolved. The sight of Arthur walking purposefully across the courtyard was nothing more than a memory and a pattern of shadows on the surface of the water. “Now… the bargain is held.”
“Yes,” Merlin said still staring at the smooth surface of the water, almost desperate to see something further. But there was nothing there and he had not heard the words to conjure the images up once more.
“Then you must keep your side,” Nimueh continued and Merlin nodded hopelessly.
“What do I have to do?” he asked, resigned to his fate.
“Follow me,” she turned, and swept off into the forest, trusting him to follow her, and he knew that he must be far too honest for his own good, because he did follow. The wolf with the curious blue eyes was back, walking at his side and he wondered whether, if he ran, the wolf would bring him back or just kill him on the spot.
“Where are we going?” he asked curiously. She did not answer, just continued on, picking her way through the undergrowth which was still glistening with snow. Her feet made no sound though, and Merlin wondered if she was even really there. The hem of her dress, layered and uneven as it was, did not get damp, nor did it pick up any of the twigs or leaves that he knew stuck to his boots and when he turned his face away, she almost seemed transparent, as though he could see the forest through her. The wolf at his side, too, flickered like a guttering candle.
“How?” he asked.
“How what?” Nimueh said, pausing to turn and look at him.
“How are you going to kill me?” he asked, his voice hesitant. She smiled then, but there was no warmth to the curl of her lips.
“I never said I was going to kill you, Merlin,” she said turning back and continuing onwards. “I merely asked for your life… all of it.”
“I don’t understand,” he said and she laughed, her voice echoing around the trees, making it sound as though there were a dozen Nimuehs, all laughing at him as one.
“You will.”
***
Merlin’s trail was easy to follow, he had never been any good at stealth and Arthur thanked him for that incompetence. It would make this rescue mission a lot easier.
The idiot had probably just fallen into a ditch and broken his leg, he told himself. There was no reason to think that anything terrible had happened. Except that he had left in order to face a powerful sorceress and this was Merlin who attracted trouble like Morgana attracted men.
He slipped off his horse as he crossed from the road into the forest, still keeping his eyes on the ground and Merlin’s trail.
He had barely got into the forest when he found a horse with the Camelot insignia on the saddle, tied to a tree and pawing at the ground impatiently.
Gently, the Prince patted down its nose, soothing the mare as he untied her from the tree and began to lead both mounts on. The trail changed directions abruptly from the tree, moving from skirting the outside of the forest to cutting deeper in. He cast looks around him, trying to see anything that might have changed Merlin’s direction for some simple reason, but there was nothing. He had not been avoiding anything, it seemed; then he must have been following something.
Sure enough, as he reached the top of the rise ahead of him, the footprints of a wolf overlapped with Merlin’s own. They were larger than those of any wolf he had seen before, but there was no doubting the animal. He had been raised to hunt and there was no way he would mistake tracks that obvious.
Why Merlin had followed a wolf further into the forest was beyond him, but he was fairly certain that Nimueh must have been behind it.
As he went on the air grew colder. The chill turned into a biting wind that blew at his face, causing his ears to ache and his cheeks to redden, but he pushed onwards, half-closing his eyes against the onslaught of freezing air.
The sudden crunch of snow beneath his feet made him start, his free hand going to his sword hilt, but there was nothing but snow to be seen. The horses took a little persuading to continue on, but he managed to coax them both after a moment. The snow was good for one thing, though, Merlin’s footsteps were outlined clearly with it, and Arthur barely needed to pay attention to follow the trail as it led him slowly onwards into a clearing where the snow covered the ground like a blanket.
In the middle of the clearing he saw a plinth with a deep bowl fixed to the top. Merlin’s footsteps went towards it, but Arthur knew, without going over to it, that it was part of this. This was where the magic had occurred. He looked around the clearing, scouring the ground for some sort of clue and was relieved to see Merlin’s footsteps, on their own, departing the clearing and heading further north, towards the mountains.
He followed them doggedly.
***
“I will not help you,” Merlin said, firmly. “I won’t aid you in destroying Camelot.”
“That is not what I want you for,” Nimueh deigned to reply. “You think in such clear cut terms. Life and death, good and evil…” she paused. “You think that Uther is good?”
“I think that he believes he is doing the right thing,” Merlin told her, avoiding the fierce blue of her glare.
“A pretty way of avoiding the question,” she commented, turning back to look ahead of them. “He would kill you if he had so much as a hint of your true nature, even though all you’ve ever done is save him.”
“What did you do?” Merlin asked, curiously. There was such venom in her voice when she spoke of the King. It sounded personal. She froze where she was, pulling herself in, but not turning back to him.
“I did what he asked me to… and I paid the price.” She surged forward again at an increased pace, leaving Merlin, hurrying behind her, his mind buzzing with confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I gave him everything he ever wanted,” she said in a faraway voice, as though she was not wholly there, which Merlin was almost certain she wasn’t. “But he thought the price too high.”
“What was the price?” Merlin heard himself ask. Nimueh remained silent. “You might as well tell me, you own my life, don’t you?
“The magic took his queen,” she said softly. There was a sharp intake of breath that Merlin knew was his own. Nimueh stiffened at the sound. “I did not know that it would be her.”
“What did you give him?” Merlin asked, pressing on with his questions, as though his mouth had taken over control of his brain. He was scared that he already knew the answer, and he did not want it confirmed. But at the same time, he needed to know.
“A life for a life,” she murmured into the wind, but Merlin heard her as clearly as if she spoke in his ear.
“Arthur…” Merlin breathed and the silence was answer enough. He stared at the sorceress’s back in amazement. She had enough power to bring life. He imagined Uther, childless, desperate for an heir, and he remembered the look the King had on his face whenever he looked at Arthur. There was never any doubt that he loved his son, but there was always something in between them, holding them apart. Merlin had thought it was just the crown and the responsibility; the knowledge that Arthur would never really be who he was supposed to be until his father was dead - and that might be some of it. There was guilt there, though. Arthur was a living reminder to him that he was responsible for his wife’s death.
Merlin shivered, although he was still warm from his spell.
“You understand, now,” Nimueh said. She did not sound as in control as she had done before. There was a weakness in her voice, as though she was completely laid bare.
“Yes,” he replied, before changing the subject. The ground was beginning to rise more steeply and he knew that they must have reached the feet of the mountains. “How much further?”
***
“How much further?” Arthur heard Merlin’s voice drift through the trees to him and he started forward. The tracks at his feet still indicated that his manservant was alone, so who was he talking to?
“Not far,” came a woman’s voice in answer. It was a voice he recognised: Nimueh.
“And then you kill me?” Merlin asked again. He sounded like he was laughing, but there was an edge to his voice that Arthur had heard before, though he wished he had not. He was certain that he was going to die.
“I told you before,” Nimueh replied. “I’m not going to kill you. It is not your destiny to die here any more than it is my destiny to kill your Prince.”
“Arthur said you told him that,” the Prince looped the horses’ reins around the branch of the nearest tree and sped up his pace, creeping closer to the pair ahead of him. He could make out their shapes now, between the branches: Merlin dark, except for the flash of colour round his throat, Nimueh a brilliant red. “When you left him in that cave.”
“I didn’t kill him. I merely wanted to delay him,” she said, and Arthur wondered again what had happened in that cave. She had put poison in his goblet; she had watched him fight the cockatrice and left him for the spiders in that cave. How could she claim that she did not want him dead?
“So that I would die.” Merlin’s answer sounded unsurprised.
“Of course,” Nimueh sounded as though she was smiling, and the idea of it made Arthur’s blood run cold. “I could hardly leave Camelot with such powerful protection.” The Prince blinked and listened harder, replaying the last words over in his head. Surely he had misheard that. Merlin was powerful protection? He wanted to scoff at her, but he could not alert her to his presence. His only power in this situation was the element of surprise. Against a sorcerer there was no such thing as a fair fight.
“And now you get your wish…” Merlin said. He sounded resigned and weary. “You’re taking me away from Arthur forever.” Nimueh did not answer for a second and Arthur stilled. Without their voices there was little to cover the sound of his approach.
“The Prince has many others to protect him, Merlin,” Nimueh pointed out, and Arthur had to agree with that, not to mention that he was really quite good at taking care of himself. He wondered why she had not killed Merlin yet. “None of them has magic, but sheer numbers can sometimes be enough.”
“You said you didn’t intend to kill Arthur, but by taking me away you might be doing just that,” Merlin said. The Prince, hidden in the underbrush and behind some trees, heard the earnest tone of his voice. Merlin had saved his life, it was true, and he knew, without question, that the other young man would die for him. But the way he said it was similar to how Nimueh had called him powerful protection. There was the same hint of a secret there that he had seen pass between Merlin and Gaius in the last couple of days.
“It is too late for that,” she said, and Arthur wondered what she meant. Had she already killed him? Was there some sort of slow magic burning out Merlin’s life as they spoke, was he too late? But she had said that she was not going to kill him. “A warlock’s word to another sorcerer is binding. Your life is mine.”
“You gave him life, you can’t want him to die,” Merlin argued, and Arthur wondered what part of the conversation he had missed, because he had no idea what they were talking about. A warlock’s word? Nimueh had given someone life? He shook the confusion off and focussed back on the dark shapes of Merlin and Nimueh, not very far away, between the branches.
“Your life for his, that was the bargain, Merlin,” Nimueh said, her voice as cold as the snow that was seeping through Arthur’s boots. “We are there.”
Arthur looked ahead of the pair, wondering where they were supposed to be, and saw a cave in the side of the mountain.
“What is this place?” Merlin asked, voicing Arthur’s thoughts.
“This is where you will stay… for the rest of eternity, bound by your oath and your magic,” Nimueh told him.
Magic… Arthur’s brain stuck on those words. Your magic, Merlin’s magic. Merlin had magic. He paused, re-evaluating the conversation. There had been a bargain, between them, a bargain for Arthur’s life. Merlin’s word, the word of a warlock, he forced himself to think the word, though it seemed incongruous with the young man who bumbled along beside him, tripping over his words and his feet. He had given his life to save Arthur’s - again.
Stupid, self-sacrificing fool! Arthur’s thoughts leapt to anger immediately. He shoved aside the knowledge of Merlin’s magic. There was too much there and he had to focus, focus on getting both of them out of this alive. If Merlin had saved him then he was going to save Merlin. It was as simple as that, oath or no oath, magic or no magic. That was how it worked. Merlin got himself into some ridiculous scrape, usually trying to be useful or save his life and then Arthur got him out of it. It was a strange friendship, but that was how it worked and he would be damned if some sorceress was going to stop him just because she thought that Merlin belonged to her.
Because he didn’t. He was Arthur’s manservant, Arthur’s friend and she was going to let him go.
His anger was only evident in the tightness of his movements as he crept up behind the pair of them. He made no sound louder than a breath until he rested the tip of his sword on Nimueh’s back, over her heart.
“Move and I will kill you,” he said, his voice full of tightly contained anger. She did not ever twitch, although Merlin jumped half out of his skin, turning to face him with wide eyes.
“Arthur!” he said, and if Arthur had been focussed on anything other than Nimueh as she stood, as still as a statue, staring forward at the cave, then he would have made some remark about Merlin’s ability to state the blindingly obvious. “You’re really you again.”
“Arthur,” Nimueh said, and she sounded different from how she had in the cave. She was not triumphant, but neither was she scared. The blade at her back gave her no cause for alarm. “You do not know what you are doing.”
“I’m saving my manservant from his own incompetence,” he instructed her, grateful that he had his own voice back. It was so much easier to sound supercilious and condescending and not terrified when you were in full control of your voice.
“He made a deal for your life,” she said.
“Deals with sorcerers are not worth the air they are spoken into,” he snapped, pushing his sword into her slightly, though not firmly enough to cut. She laughed and he remembered her words… Merlin’s magic. Merlin was a sorcerer. His mouth twitched towards a grimace, but he managed to contain it. It would be easier if Merlin did not know he knew. Easier if he forgot what he had overheard, and there was no time to think about that now.
Nimueh turned round in one smooth movement, her eyes fixing on his immediately.
“You do not know what you are talking about,” she told him and she looked at home in this inhospitable, frosty forest. Almost regal, as if here, miles from civilisation, she were the queen and he was not worth the effort it took to look at him. “Return to Camelot. This is not your business.”
“Let him go,” Arthur said, and Merlin made a slightly strangled sound.
“His life is mine…”
“And I’m holding a sword to your throat,” he said, his argument clear. He pulled the tip of the blade upwards. “Let him go.”
“Merlin…” she spoke to the dark haired man beside him, but her eyes were still fixed on his. “Tell him.”
“Arthur… I think,” Merlin paused, “I think she’s right. You should go back.”
“If you want him, you’ll have to kill me first,” Arthur told her, smirking slightly and completely ignoring Merlin’s words. He was just being an idiot like usual. He stepped smoothly between the two of them. Magic or no magic, he was leaving here with Merlin and that was all he had to say on the matter.
“Get out of my way,” she commanded, but she did not move towards him.
“Arthur…” Merlin said again, and the Prince could hear him moving round his side and held up his arm to push him backwards.
“Stay where you are, Merlin,” he said, his tone brooking no arguments. “And that is an order. You are still my servant and you will do as I tell you… and what I tell you is that you’re coming back to Camelot with me.”
“A life for a life,” she said, her words falling like daggers. “The balance must be kept - ask your father.”
“Then I will take your life for his,” Arthur told her simply. He stepped forward for leverage and pushed his blade through the sorceress’ throat, but instead of connecting with her flesh it went through her as though she were as in substantial as the air around them. She glared at him before disappearing completely. He twisted around to see where she had gone, but there was no sign of her. Merlin came up and rested a hand on his shoulder, his touch unbelievably warm against the freezing cold of the forest.
“Arthur?”
“Merlin.” They stared at each other for a second, and Merlin opened his mouth to speak. Arthur did not allow him time though, and grabbed him, pulling him forwards and bringing their lips together. Merlin’s mouth was warmer than his hand, radiating with heat - magic, Arthur identified. He was not sure why he did it, relief at both of them having survived, perhaps. Or maybe it was gratitude, or something more than that. He had not had time to think, he had just acted and kissed a Sorcerer. He almost laughed at the thought. Merlin, a Sorcerer. A lot of things made sense.
There was a moment of incomprehension on both sides. Arthur wondered whether he should back away, but surrender was not in his nature, even when he was unsure why he had done something. If you had started something you had to finish it, so he pulled his incompetent, magical manservant closer.
When they drew back a second later, Arthur shuddered with the cold that set in once more, and Merlin blinked at him uncertainly, by far the least threatening Sorcerer the Prince had ever seen. He looked as idiotic as ever with his mouth gaping and his mind obviously trying to keep up with what had happened.
“What…” his manservant began before shaking himself slightly. “What did you hear?” he asked, and Arthur snorted a little. Given all that had happened in the last few minutes Merlin was asking him what he had overheard. There was fear in his eyes, and worry. Arthur could lie, he could pretend that he had not heard it all. This was his get out moment, but, as with a few seconds later, he could not pull back once he had begun something. Anyway, Merlin would know. Arthur could see by the look in the other man’s eyes that he knew that Arthur had heard and understood.
“Enough,” he replied, before abruptly turning on his heel and walking off, leaving Merlin gaping behind him. After he had gone a few paces he called out without looking back. “Come on, Merlin! We haven’t got all day. First I have to convince my father that Percival’s not a sorcerer and just to banish him rather than kill the moron, and then you’ll have to tidy my chambers because I know that you haven’t been doing your job for the past few days.”
“I was fired…” Merlin pointed out, hurrying to catch up.
“I don’t remember firing you,” Arthur said smugly.
“Well, it wasn’t you, but…”
“Then you have no excuse,” the Prince insisted, but as he said the words he lifted his arm and dropped it over Merlin’s shoulders.
“Arthur,” Merlin said uncertainly, and Arthur could feel that he was not relaxed.
“Back there… what was? Why? How? What was that?” Merlin spluttered, stopping and starting his sentences so rapidly that if Arthur had not understood his reaction he would not have been able to reply.
“You’re obviously stupider than you look,” Arthur told him, reaching up to push Merlin’s head to one side slightly.
“Right… yes, and about the… the other thing.”
“The magic thing?” Arthur asked, trying to act completely unfazed.
“Yes,”
“If I wanted you dead I would have let Nimueh have you,” Arthur pointed out, knowing the words were true as he said them. If Merlin had wanted him dead then he had had a million opportunities and he had taken none of them. Just like in that cave with the orb hovering above him, there was no fear.
“Right.” Merlin said uncertainly. “So, you’re not angry?” Arthur turned to look at him for a second.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said firmly.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin agreed with a deference Arthur had never heard from him before. It was wrong on him, no matter how much Arthur pled for it usually.
“Oh,” he said, pulling his arm away from his servant’s shoulders and striding on ahead towards the horses. “Merlin, you do know the penalty for stealing a knight’s horse, don’t you?”
“I didn’t steal it,” Merlin protested. “I just borrowed her for a while… to save your life.”
“Yes, but you took a Knight’s mount without permission,” Arthur continued, smirking as he unhooked the horses from the branch, his back to Merlin. “If Camelot had been attacked then Sir Pelleas would have had to ride out with an untrained mount. It could have been the difference between victory and loss.”
“But Camelot wasn’t attacked,” Merlin pointed out, “You were, and it was important.”
“You were lucky.” Arthur handed him the reins of Sir Pelleas’s mare and Merlin glared at him. The deference of a few minutes ago and the fear of before were gone from his face and Arthur barely managed to suppress his smile to maintain proper Princely arrogance.
“I can’t believe you’re going to punish me for saving your life,” Merlin said, hauling himself up onto the mare in a manner that made Arthur wince. He was going to have to add riding lessons to his to do list for Merlin.
“Three days in the stocks,” Arthur said, pulling himself into his own saddle with infinitely more finesse and grace than Merlin had managed. He nudged his mount into a trot grinning widely as Merlin called after him mournfully.
“Three days?”
***
Epilogue
-
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G/PG
Wordcount: This part: 3845, Overall ~44000
Pairing/Characters: Merlin, Nimueh, Arthur, Percival (OC), Uther, Gaius
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, nor any of the characters. The version of Arthurian legend this was inspired by/based on belongs to the Beeb.
Warnings: Vague corruption of Arthurian Legend
Spoilers: Up to Excalibur
Author’s Note: Many thanks to the wonderful wrennette for the beta work and everyone who's still reading. Also, this was written before the finale, so… any resemblance to it is purely coincidental
Summary: In this part: Merlin strikes a bargain and both he and Arthur discover some secrets about each other.
Previous Chapters: 1| 2| 3| 4| 5| 6| 7| 8
“Your Prince has proven himself and my decoy has been discovered,” Merlin watched as Nimueh waved her hand once more over the bowl and the images dissolved. The sight of Arthur walking purposefully across the courtyard was nothing more than a memory and a pattern of shadows on the surface of the water. “Now… the bargain is held.”
“Yes,” Merlin said still staring at the smooth surface of the water, almost desperate to see something further. But there was nothing there and he had not heard the words to conjure the images up once more.
“Then you must keep your side,” Nimueh continued and Merlin nodded hopelessly.
“What do I have to do?” he asked, resigned to his fate.
“Follow me,” she turned, and swept off into the forest, trusting him to follow her, and he knew that he must be far too honest for his own good, because he did follow. The wolf with the curious blue eyes was back, walking at his side and he wondered whether, if he ran, the wolf would bring him back or just kill him on the spot.
“Where are we going?” he asked curiously. She did not answer, just continued on, picking her way through the undergrowth which was still glistening with snow. Her feet made no sound though, and Merlin wondered if she was even really there. The hem of her dress, layered and uneven as it was, did not get damp, nor did it pick up any of the twigs or leaves that he knew stuck to his boots and when he turned his face away, she almost seemed transparent, as though he could see the forest through her. The wolf at his side, too, flickered like a guttering candle.
“How?” he asked.
“How what?” Nimueh said, pausing to turn and look at him.
“How are you going to kill me?” he asked, his voice hesitant. She smiled then, but there was no warmth to the curl of her lips.
“I never said I was going to kill you, Merlin,” she said turning back and continuing onwards. “I merely asked for your life… all of it.”
“I don’t understand,” he said and she laughed, her voice echoing around the trees, making it sound as though there were a dozen Nimuehs, all laughing at him as one.
“You will.”
***
Merlin’s trail was easy to follow, he had never been any good at stealth and Arthur thanked him for that incompetence. It would make this rescue mission a lot easier.
The idiot had probably just fallen into a ditch and broken his leg, he told himself. There was no reason to think that anything terrible had happened. Except that he had left in order to face a powerful sorceress and this was Merlin who attracted trouble like Morgana attracted men.
He slipped off his horse as he crossed from the road into the forest, still keeping his eyes on the ground and Merlin’s trail.
He had barely got into the forest when he found a horse with the Camelot insignia on the saddle, tied to a tree and pawing at the ground impatiently.
Gently, the Prince patted down its nose, soothing the mare as he untied her from the tree and began to lead both mounts on. The trail changed directions abruptly from the tree, moving from skirting the outside of the forest to cutting deeper in. He cast looks around him, trying to see anything that might have changed Merlin’s direction for some simple reason, but there was nothing. He had not been avoiding anything, it seemed; then he must have been following something.
Sure enough, as he reached the top of the rise ahead of him, the footprints of a wolf overlapped with Merlin’s own. They were larger than those of any wolf he had seen before, but there was no doubting the animal. He had been raised to hunt and there was no way he would mistake tracks that obvious.
Why Merlin had followed a wolf further into the forest was beyond him, but he was fairly certain that Nimueh must have been behind it.
As he went on the air grew colder. The chill turned into a biting wind that blew at his face, causing his ears to ache and his cheeks to redden, but he pushed onwards, half-closing his eyes against the onslaught of freezing air.
The sudden crunch of snow beneath his feet made him start, his free hand going to his sword hilt, but there was nothing but snow to be seen. The horses took a little persuading to continue on, but he managed to coax them both after a moment. The snow was good for one thing, though, Merlin’s footsteps were outlined clearly with it, and Arthur barely needed to pay attention to follow the trail as it led him slowly onwards into a clearing where the snow covered the ground like a blanket.
In the middle of the clearing he saw a plinth with a deep bowl fixed to the top. Merlin’s footsteps went towards it, but Arthur knew, without going over to it, that it was part of this. This was where the magic had occurred. He looked around the clearing, scouring the ground for some sort of clue and was relieved to see Merlin’s footsteps, on their own, departing the clearing and heading further north, towards the mountains.
He followed them doggedly.
***
“I will not help you,” Merlin said, firmly. “I won’t aid you in destroying Camelot.”
“That is not what I want you for,” Nimueh deigned to reply. “You think in such clear cut terms. Life and death, good and evil…” she paused. “You think that Uther is good?”
“I think that he believes he is doing the right thing,” Merlin told her, avoiding the fierce blue of her glare.
“A pretty way of avoiding the question,” she commented, turning back to look ahead of them. “He would kill you if he had so much as a hint of your true nature, even though all you’ve ever done is save him.”
“What did you do?” Merlin asked, curiously. There was such venom in her voice when she spoke of the King. It sounded personal. She froze where she was, pulling herself in, but not turning back to him.
“I did what he asked me to… and I paid the price.” She surged forward again at an increased pace, leaving Merlin, hurrying behind her, his mind buzzing with confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I gave him everything he ever wanted,” she said in a faraway voice, as though she was not wholly there, which Merlin was almost certain she wasn’t. “But he thought the price too high.”
“What was the price?” Merlin heard himself ask. Nimueh remained silent. “You might as well tell me, you own my life, don’t you?
“The magic took his queen,” she said softly. There was a sharp intake of breath that Merlin knew was his own. Nimueh stiffened at the sound. “I did not know that it would be her.”
“What did you give him?” Merlin asked, pressing on with his questions, as though his mouth had taken over control of his brain. He was scared that he already knew the answer, and he did not want it confirmed. But at the same time, he needed to know.
“A life for a life,” she murmured into the wind, but Merlin heard her as clearly as if she spoke in his ear.
“Arthur…” Merlin breathed and the silence was answer enough. He stared at the sorceress’s back in amazement. She had enough power to bring life. He imagined Uther, childless, desperate for an heir, and he remembered the look the King had on his face whenever he looked at Arthur. There was never any doubt that he loved his son, but there was always something in between them, holding them apart. Merlin had thought it was just the crown and the responsibility; the knowledge that Arthur would never really be who he was supposed to be until his father was dead - and that might be some of it. There was guilt there, though. Arthur was a living reminder to him that he was responsible for his wife’s death.
Merlin shivered, although he was still warm from his spell.
“You understand, now,” Nimueh said. She did not sound as in control as she had done before. There was a weakness in her voice, as though she was completely laid bare.
“Yes,” he replied, before changing the subject. The ground was beginning to rise more steeply and he knew that they must have reached the feet of the mountains. “How much further?”
***
“How much further?” Arthur heard Merlin’s voice drift through the trees to him and he started forward. The tracks at his feet still indicated that his manservant was alone, so who was he talking to?
“Not far,” came a woman’s voice in answer. It was a voice he recognised: Nimueh.
“And then you kill me?” Merlin asked again. He sounded like he was laughing, but there was an edge to his voice that Arthur had heard before, though he wished he had not. He was certain that he was going to die.
“I told you before,” Nimueh replied. “I’m not going to kill you. It is not your destiny to die here any more than it is my destiny to kill your Prince.”
“Arthur said you told him that,” the Prince looped the horses’ reins around the branch of the nearest tree and sped up his pace, creeping closer to the pair ahead of him. He could make out their shapes now, between the branches: Merlin dark, except for the flash of colour round his throat, Nimueh a brilliant red. “When you left him in that cave.”
“I didn’t kill him. I merely wanted to delay him,” she said, and Arthur wondered again what had happened in that cave. She had put poison in his goblet; she had watched him fight the cockatrice and left him for the spiders in that cave. How could she claim that she did not want him dead?
“So that I would die.” Merlin’s answer sounded unsurprised.
“Of course,” Nimueh sounded as though she was smiling, and the idea of it made Arthur’s blood run cold. “I could hardly leave Camelot with such powerful protection.” The Prince blinked and listened harder, replaying the last words over in his head. Surely he had misheard that. Merlin was powerful protection? He wanted to scoff at her, but he could not alert her to his presence. His only power in this situation was the element of surprise. Against a sorcerer there was no such thing as a fair fight.
“And now you get your wish…” Merlin said. He sounded resigned and weary. “You’re taking me away from Arthur forever.” Nimueh did not answer for a second and Arthur stilled. Without their voices there was little to cover the sound of his approach.
“The Prince has many others to protect him, Merlin,” Nimueh pointed out, and Arthur had to agree with that, not to mention that he was really quite good at taking care of himself. He wondered why she had not killed Merlin yet. “None of them has magic, but sheer numbers can sometimes be enough.”
“You said you didn’t intend to kill Arthur, but by taking me away you might be doing just that,” Merlin said. The Prince, hidden in the underbrush and behind some trees, heard the earnest tone of his voice. Merlin had saved his life, it was true, and he knew, without question, that the other young man would die for him. But the way he said it was similar to how Nimueh had called him powerful protection. There was the same hint of a secret there that he had seen pass between Merlin and Gaius in the last couple of days.
“It is too late for that,” she said, and Arthur wondered what she meant. Had she already killed him? Was there some sort of slow magic burning out Merlin’s life as they spoke, was he too late? But she had said that she was not going to kill him. “A warlock’s word to another sorcerer is binding. Your life is mine.”
“You gave him life, you can’t want him to die,” Merlin argued, and Arthur wondered what part of the conversation he had missed, because he had no idea what they were talking about. A warlock’s word? Nimueh had given someone life? He shook the confusion off and focussed back on the dark shapes of Merlin and Nimueh, not very far away, between the branches.
“Your life for his, that was the bargain, Merlin,” Nimueh said, her voice as cold as the snow that was seeping through Arthur’s boots. “We are there.”
Arthur looked ahead of the pair, wondering where they were supposed to be, and saw a cave in the side of the mountain.
“What is this place?” Merlin asked, voicing Arthur’s thoughts.
“This is where you will stay… for the rest of eternity, bound by your oath and your magic,” Nimueh told him.
Magic… Arthur’s brain stuck on those words. Your magic, Merlin’s magic. Merlin had magic. He paused, re-evaluating the conversation. There had been a bargain, between them, a bargain for Arthur’s life. Merlin’s word, the word of a warlock, he forced himself to think the word, though it seemed incongruous with the young man who bumbled along beside him, tripping over his words and his feet. He had given his life to save Arthur’s - again.
Stupid, self-sacrificing fool! Arthur’s thoughts leapt to anger immediately. He shoved aside the knowledge of Merlin’s magic. There was too much there and he had to focus, focus on getting both of them out of this alive. If Merlin had saved him then he was going to save Merlin. It was as simple as that, oath or no oath, magic or no magic. That was how it worked. Merlin got himself into some ridiculous scrape, usually trying to be useful or save his life and then Arthur got him out of it. It was a strange friendship, but that was how it worked and he would be damned if some sorceress was going to stop him just because she thought that Merlin belonged to her.
Because he didn’t. He was Arthur’s manservant, Arthur’s friend and she was going to let him go.
His anger was only evident in the tightness of his movements as he crept up behind the pair of them. He made no sound louder than a breath until he rested the tip of his sword on Nimueh’s back, over her heart.
“Move and I will kill you,” he said, his voice full of tightly contained anger. She did not ever twitch, although Merlin jumped half out of his skin, turning to face him with wide eyes.
“Arthur!” he said, and if Arthur had been focussed on anything other than Nimueh as she stood, as still as a statue, staring forward at the cave, then he would have made some remark about Merlin’s ability to state the blindingly obvious. “You’re really you again.”
“Arthur,” Nimueh said, and she sounded different from how she had in the cave. She was not triumphant, but neither was she scared. The blade at her back gave her no cause for alarm. “You do not know what you are doing.”
“I’m saving my manservant from his own incompetence,” he instructed her, grateful that he had his own voice back. It was so much easier to sound supercilious and condescending and not terrified when you were in full control of your voice.
“He made a deal for your life,” she said.
“Deals with sorcerers are not worth the air they are spoken into,” he snapped, pushing his sword into her slightly, though not firmly enough to cut. She laughed and he remembered her words… Merlin’s magic. Merlin was a sorcerer. His mouth twitched towards a grimace, but he managed to contain it. It would be easier if Merlin did not know he knew. Easier if he forgot what he had overheard, and there was no time to think about that now.
Nimueh turned round in one smooth movement, her eyes fixing on his immediately.
“You do not know what you are talking about,” she told him and she looked at home in this inhospitable, frosty forest. Almost regal, as if here, miles from civilisation, she were the queen and he was not worth the effort it took to look at him. “Return to Camelot. This is not your business.”
“Let him go,” Arthur said, and Merlin made a slightly strangled sound.
“His life is mine…”
“And I’m holding a sword to your throat,” he said, his argument clear. He pulled the tip of the blade upwards. “Let him go.”
“Merlin…” she spoke to the dark haired man beside him, but her eyes were still fixed on his. “Tell him.”
“Arthur… I think,” Merlin paused, “I think she’s right. You should go back.”
“If you want him, you’ll have to kill me first,” Arthur told her, smirking slightly and completely ignoring Merlin’s words. He was just being an idiot like usual. He stepped smoothly between the two of them. Magic or no magic, he was leaving here with Merlin and that was all he had to say on the matter.
“Get out of my way,” she commanded, but she did not move towards him.
“Arthur…” Merlin said again, and the Prince could hear him moving round his side and held up his arm to push him backwards.
“Stay where you are, Merlin,” he said, his tone brooking no arguments. “And that is an order. You are still my servant and you will do as I tell you… and what I tell you is that you’re coming back to Camelot with me.”
“A life for a life,” she said, her words falling like daggers. “The balance must be kept - ask your father.”
“Then I will take your life for his,” Arthur told her simply. He stepped forward for leverage and pushed his blade through the sorceress’ throat, but instead of connecting with her flesh it went through her as though she were as in substantial as the air around them. She glared at him before disappearing completely. He twisted around to see where she had gone, but there was no sign of her. Merlin came up and rested a hand on his shoulder, his touch unbelievably warm against the freezing cold of the forest.
“Arthur?”
“Merlin.” They stared at each other for a second, and Merlin opened his mouth to speak. Arthur did not allow him time though, and grabbed him, pulling him forwards and bringing their lips together. Merlin’s mouth was warmer than his hand, radiating with heat - magic, Arthur identified. He was not sure why he did it, relief at both of them having survived, perhaps. Or maybe it was gratitude, or something more than that. He had not had time to think, he had just acted and kissed a Sorcerer. He almost laughed at the thought. Merlin, a Sorcerer. A lot of things made sense.
There was a moment of incomprehension on both sides. Arthur wondered whether he should back away, but surrender was not in his nature, even when he was unsure why he had done something. If you had started something you had to finish it, so he pulled his incompetent, magical manservant closer.
When they drew back a second later, Arthur shuddered with the cold that set in once more, and Merlin blinked at him uncertainly, by far the least threatening Sorcerer the Prince had ever seen. He looked as idiotic as ever with his mouth gaping and his mind obviously trying to keep up with what had happened.
“What…” his manservant began before shaking himself slightly. “What did you hear?” he asked, and Arthur snorted a little. Given all that had happened in the last few minutes Merlin was asking him what he had overheard. There was fear in his eyes, and worry. Arthur could lie, he could pretend that he had not heard it all. This was his get out moment, but, as with a few seconds later, he could not pull back once he had begun something. Anyway, Merlin would know. Arthur could see by the look in the other man’s eyes that he knew that Arthur had heard and understood.
“Enough,” he replied, before abruptly turning on his heel and walking off, leaving Merlin gaping behind him. After he had gone a few paces he called out without looking back. “Come on, Merlin! We haven’t got all day. First I have to convince my father that Percival’s not a sorcerer and just to banish him rather than kill the moron, and then you’ll have to tidy my chambers because I know that you haven’t been doing your job for the past few days.”
“I was fired…” Merlin pointed out, hurrying to catch up.
“I don’t remember firing you,” Arthur said smugly.
“Well, it wasn’t you, but…”
“Then you have no excuse,” the Prince insisted, but as he said the words he lifted his arm and dropped it over Merlin’s shoulders.
“Arthur,” Merlin said uncertainly, and Arthur could feel that he was not relaxed.
“Back there… what was? Why? How? What was that?” Merlin spluttered, stopping and starting his sentences so rapidly that if Arthur had not understood his reaction he would not have been able to reply.
“You’re obviously stupider than you look,” Arthur told him, reaching up to push Merlin’s head to one side slightly.
“Right… yes, and about the… the other thing.”
“The magic thing?” Arthur asked, trying to act completely unfazed.
“Yes,”
“If I wanted you dead I would have let Nimueh have you,” Arthur pointed out, knowing the words were true as he said them. If Merlin had wanted him dead then he had had a million opportunities and he had taken none of them. Just like in that cave with the orb hovering above him, there was no fear.
“Right.” Merlin said uncertainly. “So, you’re not angry?” Arthur turned to look at him for a second.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said firmly.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin agreed with a deference Arthur had never heard from him before. It was wrong on him, no matter how much Arthur pled for it usually.
“Oh,” he said, pulling his arm away from his servant’s shoulders and striding on ahead towards the horses. “Merlin, you do know the penalty for stealing a knight’s horse, don’t you?”
“I didn’t steal it,” Merlin protested. “I just borrowed her for a while… to save your life.”
“Yes, but you took a Knight’s mount without permission,” Arthur continued, smirking as he unhooked the horses from the branch, his back to Merlin. “If Camelot had been attacked then Sir Pelleas would have had to ride out with an untrained mount. It could have been the difference between victory and loss.”
“But Camelot wasn’t attacked,” Merlin pointed out, “You were, and it was important.”
“You were lucky.” Arthur handed him the reins of Sir Pelleas’s mare and Merlin glared at him. The deference of a few minutes ago and the fear of before were gone from his face and Arthur barely managed to suppress his smile to maintain proper Princely arrogance.
“I can’t believe you’re going to punish me for saving your life,” Merlin said, hauling himself up onto the mare in a manner that made Arthur wince. He was going to have to add riding lessons to his to do list for Merlin.
“Three days in the stocks,” Arthur said, pulling himself into his own saddle with infinitely more finesse and grace than Merlin had managed. He nudged his mount into a trot grinning widely as Merlin called after him mournfully.
“Three days?”
***
Epilogue
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