Merlin fic: Para Bellum 1/7

[destina]

Para Bellum
by Destina
Art by goss

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

See master post for notes and summary.



I.

In all the years Arthur had been attending banquets, he had never quite persuaded himself to truly enjoy them. He was always conscious of how his every move was scrutinized by the social climbers at court, and how the slightest slip in protocol could damage a blossoming treaty or alliance. Very few celebrations lived up to their intent, and many ceremonial occasions were shadowed by some sort of tragedy. Ascensions to the throne were preceded by funerals; glorious victories were marked by tragic deaths. Old memories crowded out new triumphs.

The only thing that made banquets bearable, in fact, was the knowledge he could leave them when he wished, and that he'd be leaving them with Merlin by his side. The court sorcerer, who seemed still to have very little regard for protocol, leaned closer as if he could hear Arthur's thoughts.

"More wine, my lord?" Merlin said. He leaned forward to fill Arthur's cup from the pitcher before him, heedless of George's indignant squawk. As he did, his sleeve rode up, revealing the leather bracelet wrapped tight around his lean wrist.

It was much the same as if he'd stripped off and bent over the table, in Arthur's mind, and his cock agreed completely. It was a private showing, one solely for Arthur's pleasure - to know Merlin wore his token still, and was his in every way. It had only been a few short months since they were bound together by the Druids, and nothing had yet eclipsed the burst of pure joy Arthur felt whenever his gaze fell upon Merlin. His chief pleasure at all events of state was watching Merlin smile and laugh with visitors to court, working his natural, non-magical charms upon them.

There always came a moment when his eyes lifted to Arthur's, and the bright happiness there matched Arthur's own.

The banquet currently underway had the same ceremonial undertones Arthur had always dreaded, and it was difficult for him to return his attention to the proceedings. Queen Annis and her contingent were paying their first official visit to the kingdom since the start of Caerleon's alliance with Camelot -- an alliance which had been set in motion after Arthur's misguided attempt to prove himself as king by executing Annis' husband. It was one of the many regrets he held from the first year of his reign.

At Arthur's left, Queen Annis pushed her delicacy-laden plate away and turned her attention to business. "Arthur, it is good to be here among allies. Even if I find that there are certain things which were misrepresented to me." She gave Merlin a pointed look, and Arthur pretended not to notice the blush creeping up Merlin's neck. Every moment of his first encounter with Annis was etched deep into Arthur's memory -- Merlin on his knees, doing his best to undo all Arthur's careful, humble offerings of a peaceful solution for both Caerleon and Camelot. Arthur sometimes thought of that moment as the night he had fully realized just how determined Merlin was to die for him.

It was also the night he had learned what it meant to trust his own judgment as king. Such a thing was not easily forgotten.

"My apologies for the lie regarding his status, Annis. I saw no other option to save his life, at the time. It can be very difficult to preserve the neck of someone who seems determined to throw their life away."

"And yet, as it turns out, he had no need of your protection," Annis said. "Such loyalty is rare, and should be valued." She cast a disappointed eye on Merlin. "Although I will admit to sadness that there will be no entertainment this evening."

"I do not like to disappoint a lady - most particularly a queen of such stature," Merlin said, inclining his head.

"Not such a fool after all, then," Annis said. She favored him with a shrewd smile.

A moment later, all the goblets on the table began to dance in unison, sloshing their contents across plates and laps. The banquet hall erupted in delighted laughter and applause. Annis nodded to him, and he smiled at her.

"Well done, sorcerer," Arthur said, turning to give Merlin the sort of lazy look which he knew full well ignited Merlin's blood. "You seem to have a particular talent for entertaining royalty."

"I will prepare suitable entertainment for my lord's pleasure this evening," Merlin said, "in private. If that pleases you, sire."

"Oh, it does," Arthur said. He held Merlin's gaze with his own, contemplating all the potential pleasures the night held in store.

Annis retrieved her goblet, which had stopped dancing long enough to allow a servant to refill it, and took a long sip. "Tell me, Arthur, what progress have you made in opening Camelot to magic?"

Arthur marveled at the ease with which Annis broached topics no other visiting dignitary had dared raise, unless they did so in a challenging manner. Only curiosity sparkled in Annis' intelligent eyes, however. She was nothing if not a collector of useful information.

"The laws put in place early on have proven to be a strong structure," Arthur said. "Only a few have gone beyond those boundaries, and most now await sentence or execution in our dungeons. Merlin has proven adept at winnowing out true traitors from the misguided or misled."

"There are rumors that the Druids have not fully put aside their grudge toward your kingdom," Annis said. Her eye fell upon the three young Druid sorcerers sent to the court by Iseldir. As always, they sat politely at the table, partaking of the food and conversation, but avoiding the wine and the rowdiest of the knights. "It is said they will seek to unseat you."

"I have heard these rumors, from time to time. But Iseldir's people are peaceful, and are opposed to violence. I have seen no evidence of it."

"I'm glad to hear it. Holding the peace is always a difficult task, regardless of the respect one may enjoy." Annis set her goblet down and leaned back in her chair. "My advisors torment me with incessant demands to marry, but I have refused all such advice. I frankly don't believe I have need of a king when I have strong allies. Any man I marry would not command the same loyalty I have been privileged to have from my men." The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly. "They have also pressed me to wed my eldest daughter to you, now that she is of age."

"Is that so?" Arthur said, scrupulously not looking at Merlin. It was not a secret at court that Merlin was Arthur's consort -- those who had not known had assumed it to be true, in any case, much to Merlin's amusement and Arthur's scowling chagrin -- but the matter of their binding was a private one, between the two of them and the Druids who had witnessed it.

"Should I press the matter?" Annis said, obviously fighting a smile.

"I directed my advisors to stop throwing potential brides at me on pain of death," Arthur said. "Not that this has stopped them from subtly introducing a visiting dignitary, now and then, but eventually they will tire of my disinterest."

"Then we are in sympathy on this matter." Annis briefly clasped his arm, and released him with a brisk pat. "Besides, I should not like to marry my daughter to a man whose heart is clearly already spoken for, whether or not he admits it to all and sundry."

Now it was Arthur's turn to blush, and to tuck in to his roast pig and carrots to avoid her wise look past him, at Merlin.

The talk turned for a time to mundane matters of politics and gossip. Once the musicians bowed and were acknowledged, they began to play a rousing set of tunes, and Arthur's mind wandered in search of topics which held more interest.

"I would distract you, sire, but it wouldn't do for the Queen and courtiers to think I monopolize your time." Merlin's chair slid an inch closer, then two, so that his elbow touched Arthur's. Arthur sent a patient glance skyward, because now the teasing would begin. "Did I hear you discussing marriage? Princess Alaria is actually very beautiful." Merlin raised his hand and waved to the obviously besotted girl in question; she turned a deep scarlet and waved back.

"You are incorrigible," Arthur said. "Besides, it's not me she's staring it. It's you."

"I'm quite taken," Merlin said. "Thoroughly, deeply taken, sire. I can arrange to have one of the servants impart some gossip on that topic to her. If you like."

"You will do no such thing. I don't want that girl traumatized for life." Unfortunately, now that Merlin had conjured up some rather lewd images with mere words rather than magic, Arthur was having a difficult time sitting comfortably.

"So you do intend to woo her?"

"I intend to send her on her way with a kiss to the hand," Arthur said. He tilted his head until his lips brushed the shell of Merlin's ear. "And hope she is as fortunate in her choices as I have been."

Smoothly, he turned back to Annis and asked, "Your Majesty, what do you think of holding a gathering of rulers in Camelot next summer? I should like to welcome all here to discuss strategies for our united kingdoms."

"We are united, aren't we?" Annis said, a thoughtful look on her face. "It has been so very long since the kingdoms of Albion have been at more than an uneasy peace at best." Her fingers traced the intricate carvings on the arm of her ceremonial chair. "I think you are largely responsible for that, Arthur. It is something to think on."

"There is still a threat," Merlin said quietly, chiming in to the conversation for the first time.

"Yes. Morgana has not shown herself, these past few months?" Annis asked.

"We have not located her. Nor has she made herself known." Arthur had spent many long days on patrol, searching the forests and plains for any trace of her. Not even one villager had yet to admit they had seen her, and Arthur had finally been forced to admit to himself that if she did not want to be found, he would be unlikely to flush her out by conventional means.

Merlin spent many nights in the quiet of their chambers, facing the open windows. He searched for Morgana in ways Arthur could not see nor understand, searched until exhaustion showed in the slope of his shoulders and the apology in his eyes.

It was those nights, most of all, that even Merlin's warm presence at Arthur's side could not lull him into sleep.

Before Arthur could find a way to detail their incessant searching, a page ran up to the table and bowed. "Sire, there is a man here to see His Excellency," he said breathlessly. Arthur suppressed a grin at Merlin's visible flinch; the use of his title always had that effect on him.

"Who is it?" Merlin asked.

"Alator of the Catha. He said it was a matter of utmost urgency."

Merlin's expression clearly told Arthur he knew who their visitor was. He looked to Arthur, who instructed the page, "Have him wait in the council chambers." To Annis, he said, "If you will excuse us for a moment, the business of the kingdom intrudes."

"I understand," she said. On her left, Princess Alaria stared openly at Merlin as he walked away. Arthur had some sympathy for her appreciation. Since Merlin's taste in clothes had been forced to improve due to his change in status, everything seemed to fit him much more...sharply.

Once they were out of the banquet hall and in the corridor, the air seemed easier to breathe, and Arthur sighed. "Now tell me, Merlin, did you pay someone to interrupt, or is this simply a happy coincidence?"

"It is a happy coincidence." Merlin matched Arthur's stride as he loped down the corridor and added, "And perhaps this business will take long enough that we may find ourselves unable to return to the banquet."

"I like the way you think." Arthur waved the guards ahead of them and asked, "Why does this man's name sound so familiar?"

"It was Alator who tortured Gaius for my identity," Merlin said, and in a cold rush, that entire dreadful episode came readily back to Arthur's mind. He had rarely been so spectacularly misguided about a man's character, or a course of action. It had been tempting to blame the harm he'd done on Agravaine's prompting, but of course, it had been Arthur's decision, and he had gone far astray from center. It would always haunt him.

"Why would he seek you here?" Arthur asked.

"I can't imagine. But it must be important for him to come to the citadel. I doubt he would want to cross paths with Gaius again, unless he had no choice." Merlin hesitated, then said, "He was ashamed of what he did."

"There was shame enough to go around," Arthur said quietly.

The guards pushed open the doors of the council chambers, and Arthur caught sight of their visitor: a sturdy-looking man, bald, with a dignified air about him, wrapped neck to toe in a homespun indigo cloak. When their visitor laid eyes on Merlin, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My lord Emrys," he said reverently. "Your Majesty."

Arthur was always amused when the magical folk paid homage to Merlin first, and then to him as an afterthought, mostly because it made Merlin twitch with discomfort.

"You must never kneel before me." Merlin crouched down to take hold of the man's shoulders. "It has been a long time, Alator."

"Yes, Emrys." The look on his face as he gazed at Merlin was nothing short of worshipful adoration. "But I will always kneel to you, for you are the greatest of our kind."

"I thought we settled this when last we met." Merlin smiled, and Arthur was reminded that there was much about the first several years Merlin had spent in Camelot which he had only heard in generalities and summary. He was perpetually catching up with it all.

As if he'd heard Arthur's thoughts, Merlin turned to him, wearing an embarrassed smile. "Alator chose not to reveal my identity to Morgana. He kept my secret."

"I would have kept your secret until my death, had you not chosen to reveal it. My loyalty is to you, Emrys - not just my loyalty, but that of all the Catha."

"Then you must also be loyal to my king." Merlin stepped back a pace, so that he was side by side with Arthur. "As I am." It was a gesture, certainly, but one which never failed to stir pride in Arthur's heart. The words were unnecessary; Merlin's every action had shown his devotion.

"Indeed. In fact, that is why I have come." Alator turned troubled eyes on Arthur, and a chill wandered up Arthur's spine; Alator seemed able to see right through him, down to bone and heart. "I have information for you both in the form of prophecy. There is great danger ahead for you, Arthur Pendragon - for both of you."

"What danger?" The sharp edge to Merlin's tone mirrored the tension in his body; Arthur resisted the urge to place a hand at his back while in Alator's company.

"You are aware, Emrys, that the seers of the Old Religion have recorded many things in prophecy, to be interpreted by the generations to follow them. Your birth, and the birth of the Once and Future King, are two such prophecies. These two events have always been tied together; one of you could not exist without the other."

It was startling to hear the truth of it spelled out so bluntly. Merlin's fingers brushed gently against Arthur's, a reassurance of what they both knew, prophecy be damned. "So we have been told," Merlin said.

"Events great and small are also foretold." Alator frowned. "Some things have been written since the dawn of time, and it has been common wisdom that these things are irrevocable, unchanging. But in these last few years, the future has become clouded."

Arthur quashed his impatience and asked, "What has this to do with the warning you've come to deliver? Is it part of this prophecy you speak of?"

"It is." Alator met Merlin's eyes. "The first part of my warning will not be unfamiliar to you, Emrys. It is about the Druid boy, Mordred. I must bid you to beware of this boy, whose life you and the king once saved."

It had been so many years since that day, but Arthur remembered it well. It was the first time he had openly defied his father's stance on magic, had risked everything to help a Druid child. He had never regretted it, though he had wished for his own sake that he had not been so blind about Merlin's motivations. Hindsight was a dangerous lens through which to filter his conscience, and he tried never to use it.

"He has become a powerful sorcerer in his own right; I have heard tales of the magic he has worked, in his wanderings. Such power is to be respected, particularly in one so young." Alator inclined his staff toward Merlin. "His path will cross with yours, Emrys, and will bring him close to Arthur. This makes the oldest of prophecies even more relevant now." He fished a bit inside his sleeve and produced a small, ornately carved box. Merlin took it, with a sideways glance at Arthur, and opened it to reveal a parchment within.

"I have guarded this long, in the hopes I would not need it." Alator waited until Merlin had broken the tiny seal and unfolded the paper. "But I believe the time has come."

"I can't read all of it," Merlin said, squinting at the neat script so meticulously laid down on the yellowed paper. "My lessons with Gaius haven't progressed this far."

"If you will permit me, I will recite it for you." Alator closed his eyes, gathering himself, and after a moment, he began to speak. "Let loose the hounds of war. Let the dread fire of the last priestess rain down from angry skies." His voice seemed to grow, filling the room until it was pressing against Arthur's skin, crawling under it. "For brother will slaughter brother; friend will murder friend, as the great horn sounds a cold dawn at Camlann. The prophets do not lie. There, Arthur will meet his end, upon that mighty plain."

Merlin's fingers curled around Arthur's wrist, gripping him tightly, as they both stared at Alator. "The last priestess," Arthur said. "Morgana?"

"She is not the only priestess still practicing the Old Religion, but she is the most powerful by far." Alator opened his eyes and sighed. "I do not know how these events tie together, but I do know there are troubling signs that Mordred is gathering power unto himself. I have heard much of his travels among the Druids, and the rumors of discord in the Druid tribes."

"What quarrel could Mordred possibly have with Arthur?" Merlin asked. "Arthur saved his life." Merlin's face was ashen, and his grip on Arthur's wrist had not loosened at all.

"That is not for me to say, Emrys." Alator's gaze was intent on Merlin, who met it with a frown.

"Not for you to say? You just predicted his death," Merlin answered, and now it was Arthur's turn to step forward, ignoring Merlin's attempt to pull him back.

"Alator. You have traveled far, I imagine, to bring us this news, and you must be tired. Please, accept Camelot's hospitality for tonight, and tomorrow we will discuss these matters further."

"Arthur-"

"Merlin," Arthur said, interrupting the inevitable lecture about safety and danger and protection. "It can surely wait until our guest has had a good night's sleep." He gestured the guard forward. "This man will escort you to your chambers, and the servants will see to your comfort. You need only ask if you have need of anything."

"You are kind, my lord, and I admit, I am weary. Thank you." Alator bowed to Arthur, and then to Merlin, who still seemed as if he were ready to pin Alator to the floor and sit on him until he babbled all the many prophecies he surely had rambling around in his head. "My lord Emrys."

"I will call on you first thing in the morning," Merlin called after him, in the tone of an anxious mother hen. The moment Alator was out of earshot, he rounded on Arthur. "What can possibly be served by waiting? Arthur, if you are in danger--"

"Merlin, really. All my life, I've had to endure one advisor or another prattling on about imminent doom as predicted by prophecy. Gaius has been the worst of all - do you know how many prophecies my father had him watching over the years? He was always waiting for the sky to fall, and it rarely did." Arthur caught hold of Merlin's arms, pulling him closer; he was a ball of restless agitation, looking back over his shoulder at the door Alator had just exited. "Most prophecies are rubbish, anyway."

"I won't take chances where your safety is concerned." Merlin allowed Arthur to pull him close, pressing his face to Arthur's neck.

Arthur folded his arms around Merlin. "Is that my court sorcerer talking, or my consort?"

"Both," Merlin said fiercely. "Either. Take your choice."

"Come," Arthur said. "Let us make our excuses to the court, and retire. I can't imagine I will be able to return to making mindless small talk, at any rate."



Annis and the assembled guests were perfectly understanding of the need for the king to leave the banquet early - business of the realm always came before social occasions - and so Arthur led the way back to his chambers, Merlin close behind. The moment the door closed behind them, Merlin flicked a hand toward the hearth, where a fire blazed to life in an instant.

Arthur unpinned his cloak and it dropped to the floor, a puddle of red against the cool grey stone. Merlin stood by the fire, unfastening the laces of his dark grey velvet tunic, and his expression was a million miles away.

Quietly, Arthur said, "Will you stop dwelling on this?"

"How can I?" Merlin shook his head, one hand braced on the mantel. "If Mordred and Morgana are allied, we will need better defensive plans than we currently have, Arthur. Far better."

"When last I saw Mordred, he was a shivering boy, too small to defend himself."

"When last I saw him, he told me he would never forget my failure to save his people from your knights. Nor would he forgive what he saw as my betrayal." Merlin stripped out of his tunic and tossed it on a chair. "He was dangerous then, because his magic was untamed and out of control. He channeled it through his rage." Merlin looked up at him then, eyes like troubled seas. "If he has grown more angry through the years, and has learned to temper his magic, he might be formidable indeed."

Arthur sat down in a high-backed chair and pulled his boots off, dropping them on the floor. "Once I believed that when magic was no longer outlawed, our troubles would cease. It seems foolish, now."

"No," Merlin said, as he crossed the room to kneel before Arthur. "Not so. Morgana's issues reached far deeper than a simple desire to see magic-users given their freedom. Perhaps it's the same with Mordred. You did him a service; Morgana was his friend." Merlin tugged off Arthur's socks, then stood to help him with his mail. "Such things are so often personal. His anger is for me."

"As Morgana's anger is for me." Arthur ran a hand through his hair as the mail cleared his head, and Merlin knelt before him again. Slowly, Arthur leaned down for a kiss, relishing the way Merlin opened to him, the taste of spiced wine dark on his lips.

"Morgana has been silent these last months," Merlin said softly, arching into Arthur's touch with a quiet noise of pleasure. Arthur made quick work of the ties to his tunic, and stripped it from him to have Merlin's skin under his hands. "Perhaps it is time to offer her a truce, and end any chance of an alliance with Mordred."

"Must we speak of her now?" Arthur grazed his lips down the long, tempting line of Merlin's neck. "Or can the kingdom's business wait until morning?"

Instead of words, Merlin offered him touch, divesting him of his belt and tunic, and then curling his fingers around Arthur's to lead him to the bed. A moment more to throw off breeches and smalls, and they twined together on the bed.

It had been six turns of the moon since they were hand-fasted in the presence of the Druids, bound by the Old Religion and their own joy, and Arthur was still as hungry for Merlin as he had been that night. The quick patter of Merlin's heartbeat beneath his palm; Merlin's soft chuckle when Arthur's hands ghosted past his ribs; the way Merlin's hand tightened in Arthur's hair when Arthur took Merlin into his mouth, suckling gently - Arthur reveled in each sensation, each time it was given to him anew.

He had thought once he knew what love was, but there had never been anything to compare to this feeling which grew larger inside him every day, spreading wildfire in his veins and stealing his breath every time Merlin's eyes met his own.

Merlin slid a hand under Arthur's back and rolled them smoothly to sit astride Arthur's thighs. "So, my king," he murmured, taking slow, deep kisses from Arthur's mouth, "Let us return to the matter of the prospective royal bride." He took hold of Arthur's wrists, raising them above Arthur's head and pinning them to the bed, even as Arthur chased his mouth to kiss the ridiculous words away. "She is very beautiful, isn't she?"

"Hadn't noticed," Arthur gasped, as Merlin's eyes flashed golden, sparks from a hot flame, and he found his arms immobile. Merlin reached under the brocaded pillow and withdrew the oil, slicking his hands with it.

"Beautiful and intelligent," Merlin said. "Everything a king could want." His hands slid up the length of Arthur's cock, and Arthur threw his head back with a cry as Merlin lowered himself, pressing until Arthur was fully seated inside him. "A perfect match for the greatest king Albion has ever known."

"Merlin," Arthur growled, pushing his hips up into Merlin to hear Merlin's breath catch. Pleasure arced through him as Merlin began to roll his hips in a sinuous rhythm, Arthur captured there inside him, beneath him, a slave to Merlin's whims.

"But she can't have you," Merlin whispered, and his mouth descended on Arthur's in a punishing kiss, one that gentled as his tongue swept across Arthur's, slow and teasing. Merlin reached up and tangled his fingers with Arthur's, then pushed his hand up until Arthur's fingers touched the soft braided leather wrapped around Merlin's wrist.

Arthur gripped Merlin's wrist tightly, and Merlin broke the kiss, making soft, needy sounds in his throat as he freed Arthur from his invisible restraints. Arthur's left hand went to Merlin's hip and gripped him tight as he thrust in deep.

"Say it," Merlin demanded, even as Arthur's hold tightened on his wrist. "Arthur, Arthur-"

"I am yours," Arthur said, eyes locked to Merlin's as Merlin threw back his head, shuddering, his cock pulsing untouched. Arthur moved relentlessly beneath him, watching with feral joy as Merlin trembled in the throes of his release. Arthur pulled Merlin's wrist to him, kissing the leather braid that had come to symbolize so much.

"And I have always been yours," Merlin whispered. "Since the moment we met." He cupped the side of Arthur's face, thumb stroking his hot cheek tenderly. Arthur closed his eyes against the tide of pleasure, spending himself inside Merlin.

Merlin fell forward onto his chest, and Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's slender body, dragging his hands down his sweaty, silky back. It was as if he could feel the marks of possession on his body, underneath his skin where none but Arthur could find them. Merlin's own marks were just as deep into Arthur, scrawled across his bones and heart, where they could never be erased.

**

Morning light brought with it a new clarity of purpose, and as Arthur let Merlin dress him - while George swept and cleaned and eyed them both with the extreme displeasure of a servant who has been set aside temporarily by someone whose skills are inferior to the task - he worked the puzzle through. The boy, Mordred, may have been carrying a grudge against Merlin, but it would be difficult to understand why he was a threat to Arthur without more information. Morgana, on the other hand, had either gone far underground, or - as improbable as it may have seemed - was no longer interested in pursuing her claim to the throne.

Some small part of Arthur hoped that she had decided not to press him. Whether because of Merlin's intervention, or her own change of heart, it would not matter to Arthur. He had been ready to offer her peace terms for some time, and the moment would never be better. If she was already allied with Mordred, and had some other endgame in mind, there was nothing to lose by offering peace; a rejection of the offer would not disadvantage Camelot, or place the kingdom in more danger than it already was.

"Daydreaming?" Merlin asked, provoking a smile from Arthur.

"Of a sort." Arthur sat on the low bench by the window and let Merlin slide his mail on over his head. "The council has assembled?"

"Yes." Merlin paused, glancing to George and receiving a curt nod in return. "And there's something else you'll want to see, before you begin."

"Intriguing." Arthur buckled on his belt and sword, and followed Merlin out into the corridor. Merlin seemed as full of energy as a pup, rambling ahead every few steps and then turning back to see if Arthur was there. It was exasperating and endearing in equal measure.

"My lord," Merlin said, stopping before the doors of the great hall. "As you commanded." He flung open the doors, and the sight before him stopped Arthur dead in his tracks.

Before him, the huge wooden table he had spoken to Merlin about, patterned on the smaller table favored by the kings of old, filled one end of the hall entirely. Workers stood on and around it, polishing the carved edges to shining perfection. Arthur stared, uncertain it was real; he had discussed its creation with Merlin in secret, and his plans to seat ordinary men around it, knights made so for their character and deeds rather than titles and status.

"How?" he asked, turning to Merlin, who backed away, a grin on his face.

"The woodworkers did most of it. A hundred of the finest from all the five kingdoms." Merlin ran his hand across the smooth surface. "It is large enough to seat fifty men, if you wish."

Arthur walked around the opposite side of the table. It was sturdy, solid to the core, but it glowed from within, a richness of color which reminded him of the sun on the forest after a cleansing rain.

"I chose the trees from deep in the Forest of Ascetir, near the place where you pulled your sword from the stone." Merlin gestured to one of the workmen, who rolled a heavy round piece forward. "This piece was carved from a great oak, rooted to the land so deeply it was a privilege to use its timber. I saved this to be placed at the heart of the table, but it needs the finishing touch."

Merlin lifted his hand, and as his eyes flashed golden, the heavy piece rose in the air, spinning slowly. The flags of Albion's kingdoms fluttered as Merlin said, "Forbearnan." Fire erupted from the center of the wooden circle, sparks flying everywhere as if flung from a blacksmith's forge. Arthur squinted against the intense light, his heart running hard against his ribs, as a shape began to emerge from the trail of fire.

"This is your legacy," Merlin said. Slowly, the wheel of fire lowered itself toward the center of the table, coming to rest as gently as a feather in the space made for it. Smoke rose from it until Merlin cleared it with another wave of his hand.

In the center, a beautiful dragon took flight, a stylized version of the Pendragon family crest.

The workmen began to murmur, crowding closer to Merlin and to the table to see the finished design, and then they drifted from the great hall, leaving Arthur alone with Merlin, at opposite sides of the table. "It's magnificent," Arthur said, not looking at the dragon.

"I wanted to make this dream real for you," Merlin said. "It is a symbol of all you have done, and all you will do."

"What I have done, I have done because there were others who stood beside me." Arthur continued his slow walk around the table, pausing every so often to look at the dragon, until finally he was standing before Merlin, captivated by his flushed cheeks, and the pleased sparkle in his eye. "And most of all, I have had a sorcerer pestering me day and night, never giving me a single moment's peace from his opinions and advice."

"It is a difficult job, sire, with a king so stubborn and pigheaded as yourself, but we all have our lot in life."

Arthur's hand covered Merlin's where it rested on the table. "Thank you," he said softly, stepping closer, his fingers curling around Merlin's as they kissed. "For this gift."

"Shall we put it to use, then?" Merlin stepped away, pulling Arthur with him, and flicked a finger. The chairs slid from the edges of the room into place around the table, as neatly as soldiers marching in formation.

"Oh yes." Arthur smiled at the prospect. "Summon the council. And send for Alator; we may as well put all of this to bed at once."

**

The most senior of his counselors, inherited from Uther's time, filed listlessly around the table, unsure of where to seat themselves in a room with no strict pecking order. It did not help matters that Arthur stood in the antechamber, watching with a barely concealed grin as they entered the room; his presence gave them no point of reference around which to arrange themselves.

Gwen gave him a reproachful look as she passed by, but there was mischief in it, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to feel terribly scolded.

With a mirthful glance at Merlin, Arthur entered the hall, motioning to his council to sit back down. They were clustered in twos and threes, the exceptions being Gaius and Gwen, who sat together next to two empty seats. Arthur took a seat next to Gaius, and gestured to Merlin to sit at his right hand.

The moment he sat at the table, contentment filled Arthur's heart. This was how it had been meant to be, from the beginning; this was how it would be from now on.

"Gentlemen," Arthur said. "My lady," he added, with a nod to Guinevere, whose smile lit the room. "We have much to discuss this morning. First, I put before you the notion of extending an offer of peace to Morgana Pendragon, in the hopes of putting hostilities permanently behind us."

"Sire, I must protest." Lord Corin spoke above the gasps and murmurs, as Arthur had known he would; Corin was still not comfortable with Merlin at court, and his biases were deeply ingrained. It could not be otherwise, given that he had served as one of Uther's most loyal knights for a decade. "We have no evidence she is amenable to a treaty. She will see this as a sign of weakness."

"The Lady Morgana knows well that Camelot is not weak," Sir Leon said. "But she may believe an overture of this nature will provide an opportunity for action against our interests. We are spread thin on several fronts, keeping the peace and rounding up bandits."

"True enough." Arthur glanced around the table, waiting for those with enough courage to offer their opinions.

Finally, Lord Pryce cleared his throat and said, "Sire, I cannot see how you can ever trust her again. Her word means nothing. She has tried to kill you, has tried to take your throne, and practiced deceit and treachery against you. It is difficult to believe that given an opportunity, she would not do so again."

"Trust isn't at issue," Gwen said, speaking softly but firmly from Arthur's left. "Merlin was not able to exercise his power in Camelot's defense, when last Morgana attempted to wrest control of Camelot from the king. Now he is responsible for our protection against magic-users, and he won't let the king come to harm."

"What say you, Merlin?" Sir Mortimer leaned toward Merlin. Arthur had observed that Mortimer had long been one of Merlin's staunchest supporters, from the first discussion of lifting the bans on magic.

"Morgana has wanted two things all along: Arthur's throne, and an end to the bans on magic," Merlin said. "She is aware that as long as I am alive, she will never have the throne; it is a losing proposition for her to continue to try. As for the other objective, it has been achieved."

"You believe she can be trusted?" Mortimer pressed, his sharp mind peeling back the diplomacy in search of truth.

After a long breath, Merlin answered, "If we treat with her, we may only give her an unfettered space in which to plot new strategies for taking the throne of Camelot."

Arthur nodded. Nothing his councilors had said was in any way surprising. There were times he felt he might completely predict their reactions to any given question, based solely upon their underlying beliefs. Only Merlin and Gwen sometimes surprised him, but then again, neither of them had been well-versed in telling kings what they wanted to hear.

He beckoned George forward. "Bring in Alator," he said. George turned to whisper to the guard, and Arthur addressed the table. "Last night, some additional information surfaced which is pertinent to this discussion. We have a guest, who will elaborate."

Alator made his way into the hall and strode forward, all eyes on him as he approached. From the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Gaius stiffen.

"Alator of the Catha, welcome to this meeting of my senior councilors. You said you had information for us about the activities of the sorcerer, Mordred?"

"I do, my lord." Alator leaned on his staff. His glance flickered across the table, lingering longest on Gaius, before lighting on Arthur again. "We spoke last night of Mordred, whom you saved from execution at the hands of Uther Pendragon many years ago. He has spent these intervening years learning to hone his magic, sire. He is dangerous, and his hatred of Emrys is well-known among those who have had dealings with him.

"Mordred has spread his poisonous yearning for a kingdom dedicated only to magic among the Druids. There is a sect - warriors devoted to this cause - who have aligned themselves with him, in hopes of killing you, sire."

"You do not speak of Iseldir's people," Gaius said, his words clearly for Arthur's benefit, rather than to contradict Alator. Nevertheless, there was a sharpness to them which caught Arthur's attention. "They will never arm themselves, nor try to claim a throne for their own."

After a moment, Alator gave a nod in Gaius' direction. "Gaius is right. Iseldir's people are isolated from all of this. These Druids are warriors in their own right - dangerously so - and are led by a man called Ruadan."

"I have heard this name before," Leon said. "He is spoken of among some of the younger knights - a formidable opponent, who once trained Caerleon's men at arms."

"He has trained warriors wherever magic is permitted to be used, chiefly to gain influence and parlay that into power, and now some of those knights follow him in this endeavor," Alator said. "If Mordred and Ruadan are united in purpose, they have taken the first steps toward toppling you from the throne."

"Or so they believe," Gwen said fiercely, her voice ringing out firm in the room. Arthur spared her a grateful look.

"Some prophecies are so old they are woven into the fabric of the world," Alator said. "But many prophecies about Emrys and the Once and Future King have been unraveled in this last year - prophecies I would have staked my life on. The future is no longer clear. The ancient words may stand as your epitaph, or merely as a warning."

"Well," Arthur said, clearing his throat. He glanced around the table; a few of the old knights were murmuring to themselves, having caught wind of battle opportunities on the horizon. "Alator, in your travels, have you come across evidence that my sister has aligned herself with Mordred or this Ruadan?"

"No, my lord. But that does not mean it has not occurred. I know from experience the lady Morgana is as clever as she is ruthless." Alator and Gaius exchanged a long look.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and met the eyes of each of the senior councilors. "The situation with our enemies is fluid, and will require great diligence because of the unknowns we face. However, given that Morgana's intent is unclear, perhaps we would be wise to divide and conquer, if possible." He tapped a finger on the smooth, newly-polished wood of his great table, around which his kingdom could be built, or destroyed, if he was not cautious. "All of your points are all well-taken, but I will not destroy her without provocation. If she seeks to destroy me, so be it; we will meet her as she comes. In the meantime, I will meet aggression with aggression, and peace with peace." He turned to Merlin. "Prepare a brief offer of truce, and send it today by messengers to the outlying villages."

"I can send it by magical means as well, if you wish," Merlin said. "Morgana is a seer. I can reach her through her dreams."

"Very well. See it done." Arthur rose from his chair. "Thank you, Alator, for your timely information. Council is dismissed."

As the others stood, milling about on their way to the doors, Gaius said, "Sire, if I may, a word?"

"Of course, Gaius."

Merlin paused at the door, where he was speaking to Alator; when their conversation was over, and Alator had gone, he came back to the table, a worried frown on his face. Gaius waited until Merlin was seated beside Arthur, and it was just the three of them, before he began. "Sire, the last time I encountered Alator, he was in Morgana's service. I do not say that he cannot be trusted, because he did not betray Merlin to her. But he can be quite ruthless himself, and that should not be overlooked."

"If Alator had intended to serve Morgana, I'd be dead, or in her thrall," Merlin said. "Nothing can excuse what he did to you, Gaius, but he did it for his own purposes as much as for Morgana's. He felt he must learn my identity, so he could protect me from her."

Gaius nodded, but seemed unconvinced. It was an expression Arthur remembered well from long nights talking strategy with his father and his advisors. He had seen Gaius puzzle through problems with nothing more than intuition and a keen mind, and it saddened him to think of what he had endured at Alator's hands. "I would like to study the prophecy, sire, and see what I can make of it."

"Merlin?" Arthur stretched out a hand for the tiny box, and passed it to Gaius. "I'll be interested to know what you find." He paused. "Gaius, if you would prefer not to have Alator in the citadel-"

"Merlin trusts him, sire, and that is enough for me." Gaius clasped the box close and stood, bowing. "I will begin at once."

"Thank you, Gaius."

Even as he approached the doors, Gaius was removing the paper from the box, examining it in the shards of light coming from the windows. "Alator hurt him badly," Merlin said, and the remnants of anger were in his voice. "Even after I understood that he'd done so to keep Morgana from learning Emrys' whereabouts, it took some time for me to come to terms with it."

"With what people would do to keep you safe, you mean?" Arthur waited until it dawned on Merlin, and he seemed about to protest, before he said, "Remember how it feels, the next time the shoe is on the other foot."

"That's not at all the same," Merlin said indignantly.

"Isn't it? Your people - for that it what they are, like it or not, Merlin - would give their lives for you, and you spent every day for years trying to throw yours away for me for the same reasons: loyalty, and a belief in the world you will build. I see no difference." Arthur traced the worry lines etching Merlin's face.

"You left out a reason or two, in my case." Merlin turned his face to nuzzle Arthur's hand. Despite all the uncertainty, all the threats of war and death which seemed to constantly surround them, the ridiculous smile forming on Merlin's lips gave Arthur a moment of bone-deep contentment he had no right to feel. Nothing in life was guaranteed, so there was no time to put such feelings aside; if anything, the past two years had taught him that.

"Don't you have some magic to perform?" he asked, as Merlin pressed his lips to Arthur's wrist.

"Anything my king commands," Merlin answered, his mischievous smile lightening Arthur's heart.

**

Arthur took dinner in his chambers, and while he ate, Merlin scratched out a brief message to Morgana, using the quill and parchment George supplied. "You really should get your own manservant," Arthur observed, as Merlin crossed out a line and shook his head in frustration. "Then he could write your letters as you used to write mine."

"Who would do it better than I could do it myself?" Merlin raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "I have more experience at serving a harsh master than any other in the castle."

"I wouldn't say harsh, exactly," Arthur said, leaning closer to examine what Merlin was underlining. "More like, deserving of the finest service, which you provided inconsistently, by the way - here, give me that." Arthur swiped the parchment, resisting the urge to laugh at the way Merlin's brows drew together with annoyance.

Morgana Pendragon, High Priestess: Arthur, King of Camelot, does now present you with this offer of truce, in the interests of peace throughout the Five Kingdoms and all of Albion's provinces. You will raise no armies, and incite no violence against the peoples of the Five Kingdoms. Further, you will cease attempts to seize the throne of Camelot, held by right of succession and combat by Arthur Pendragon. In return, Camelot will withdraw the bounty upon your head and cease its search for you. You may live at peace.

If these terms are acceptable to you, respond forthwith.

"It'll require copying over, and your seal," Merlin said.

"I don't know, I think the mess you made of it lends it a certain charm," Arthur said, dangling the parchment with its strike-throughs and blots in front of Merlin.

"Next time, write your own offer of peace, then!" Merlin leaned back in the chair, which gave George the perfect opportunity to swoop in and rescue the document.

"Does this meet with your approval, sire?" he asked, holding the parchment at arm's length.

"It will do. Have it copied and dispatched immediately. See Geoffrey to affix the royal seal."

"Very good, sire."

Arthur perched on the table, ignoring the perfectly comfortable chair next to Merlin. "Fifty knights, you say?"

"If you wish it." Merlin glanced up, eyes shining. "Just as you have always wanted, Arthur - no rank, no one man above another. All equals at the table, and in the eyes of the king."

When Arthur captured his mouth in a slow kiss, he could almost taste the optimism shining from Merlin's heart.

"Come, then," Arthur said, drawing Merlin up with him. "We have a list of knights to make, and a message to send."

"It'll be a bit tricky, reaching Morgana. She has shielded herself well from my attempts to find her, but I think I'm powerful enough now to reach into her dreams." The way he said it so matter-of-fact, as though he were building muscle on the training field or learning an ancient language, brought home to Arthur just how unique Merlin was. Any other sorcerer with the power Merlin possessed would be striving constantly to attain what was natural for Merlin, and once achieved, would not be as reluctant to even admit what they could do. Yet Merlin, who was sometimes lost in thought and still seemed shy to reveal his true power even to Arthur, would never have dreamed of working toward power for his own gain.

Merlin's power was the most fearsome thing Arthur had ever seen, and there was nothing he would not do for Merlin, nothing he would not kill, no command he would not give to ensure Merlin lived and was by his side. It had nothing to do with his power at all, and that was something he was sure Morgana would never understand.

All through the evening, Arthur kept watch over Merlin as he prepared, as he cautiously practiced the spell with soundless motion of his lips, over and over. Once, he put his hand out and took hold of the bedpost, swaying. Arthur was up from his chair faster than a thought, his arm around Merlin's waist to steady him.

He was not the sort of man who whispered endearments often -- not when his consort could summon dragons with a few words and obliterate entire kingdoms with the sweep of one hand. Instead, he pressed a kiss to the top of Merlin's head, ignoring Merlin's huff of breath, which might have been gentle amusement. It wasn't as if Merlin didn't know Arthur's feelings. In fact, it was unlikely that anyone in the kingdom was unaware of his feelings for Merlin by now, and Arthur had come to terms with it long ago.

"Leave me be," Merlin said, pushing at him until Arthur released him. He still seemed a bit wobbly; whether it was the magic, or the fact that he tended to drive himself all day until he was ready to drop, Arthur couldn't tell.

"Should have eaten some capon," Arthur said, as Merlin went around the bed and stretched himself out on it.

Merlin fussed with the blankets until they were comfortable and gave Arthur a wan smile. "It'd just come back up."

"Good to be warned," Arthur answered, subtly pushing the chamber pot closer with one toe.

Merlin lay down and closed his eyes, and whispered the words of power which sent shivers across Arthur's skin. The candles flickered, and for a moment, Arthur's breath gusted white in the chilly room. Merlin's eyes rolled back to the whites and he tossed restlessly on the bed.

Merlin had said once that Morgana was terrified of him before it had been known to all just who Emrys was. Some small, vicious part of Arthur hoped that seeing Merlin in the night would provide enough of a shock to end the bitter war between them. Whatever else she may have done, she was still his sister, and he dearly hoped not to have to shed her blood.

But he would, even though it would stain his sword forever. Some things had to be done, for the preservation of all he held dear.

There was not much for Arthur to do, aside from restlessly rifle through papers of state one after another without reading them. His eyes were drawn back to Merlin time and again, though there was not much change. When he gave up on rifling papers, he sat at the edge of the bed with a dagger at his side and a book in his hand, mindlessly turning pages without seeing more than a bright illustration now and then; bluebirds flew across the borders toward the next page, tiny harbingers.

Merlin moaned and jerked sideways on the bed, and Arthur dropped the book on the ground. A fine sheen of sweat covered Merlin's face, which was contorted with effort. Arthur could not tell if he was asleep or awake, or in some middle ground between.

After a long moment, the tension in Merlin's body eased beneath Arthur's hand, and he blinked; his eyes were golden, and as the magic faded from them, he turned his face toward Arthur, sighing with relief. "I felt your touch," he said, voice as hoarse as if he'd run a thousand miles. "It called me back; she was trying to keep me with her."

Arthur's grip tightened involuntarily as Merlin rolled to his side and placed his hand over Arthur's. "She knew you were there?"

"She was on the cusp of waking when I released her. She knew it was no ordinary dream. Her fear of me is still strong." Merlin hid his face against his arm and added, "I did nothing to reassure her."

"It has to be so." Arthur reached up to run his fingers through Merlin's hair, soothing himself as much as Merlin. "What is it like, to walk in another's dream?"

Merlin eased himself up on the bed, closing his eyes even as Arthur's gentle touch traced across his cheeks, his lips. "Perhaps you should tell me," he said. "You are the one who walks through my waking dream every day." His lips touched Arthur's, and his kiss was scorching, shaking apart every notion Arthur had ever had of the mingling of duty and desire.

Arthur spread Merlin out beneath him, intent on making a mess of him. One article of clothing at a time, he stripped Merlin while Merlin watched him with quiet intent. "Dreams are strange things," Arthur murmured, pressing his lips to Merlin's belly, then to his left side, where he was most ticklish over his ribs. Merlin writhed under his touch, and Arthur smiled. "Unpredictable and changeable at the slightest whim."

"My dreams have never changed," Merlin said, arching into Arthur's hand as it closed around his cock. Arthur reveled in this, Merlin flushed and wanting beneath him, craving everything they could do together. He made soft, pleased noises when Arthur took him in his mouth, preparing him with his fingers; Merlin's taste was strong and bitter, and Arthur used his tongue to wring more of those sounds from Merlin's throat.

More than anything, Arthur wanted to take his time, to see Merlin's body in the firelight laid bare for him, the long pale stretch of his throat, and the pulse jumping there. He would kiss that spot later, he decided, and hold his lips there until Merlin's heart slowed, until Merlin was asleep and content. Merlin's eyes were half closed, and he watched Arthur from beneath his lashes, touching Arthur everywhere he could reach. His hands skimmed across Arthur's shoulders, pushed up into his hair and curved against his scalp, petting softly there as if Merlin could not help himself.

Arthur sucked him gently, steadily, until Merlin was shaking beneath his hands as Arthur pressed his hips into the bed. He curled his fingers inside Merlin, more pressure above and below, and Merlin tossed his head back, teeth sunk into his lip until finally he broke, Arthur's name spilling between his teeth as he spent into Arthur's mouth. The sight of it nearly sent Arthur past the edge, and he let Merlin's cock slip from him, pressing his nose to the bony edge of Merlin's hip and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Arthur," Merlin said, breathless, as he tugged at Arthur's wrists.

"Turn over," Arthur said, and raised his head so Merlin could comply, turning on his stomach with a contented sigh. Arthur ran his hands up Merlin's back, enjoying the play of lean muscles beneath his touch, and carefully pushed into him in one long, smooth stroke. Merlin gasped and arched, and as Arthur dragged his lips up the curve of Merlin's spine, he seated himself fully inside Merlin. Merlin rocked back into him, tiny circles of his hips, making Arthur groan. "Shameless," he said hoarsely, biting at Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin's laugh was hoarse, and he reached back to find Arthur's hip, pulling desperately until Arthur snapped forward, punching a long moan from Merlin. From then on it was just Arthur moving deep inside Merlin, Merlin meeting him in counterpoint, exquisite torture that built until the wave broke over Arthur and he spent himself, panting, inside Merlin.

They fell into the sheets, tangled up in each other and the bedding, and Merlin curled his body around Arthur, sinking quickly into sleep. Arthur smoothed the wild strands of Merlin's soft hair and entertained the private thought that soon, he would have a circlet made for Merlin, a crown of gold set with sapphires, so all would know his true place.

The image of it, and Merlin's soft heavy breaths on his chest, soothed Arthur into sleep.

on to part two