Here Goes Nothing...
As threatened, here's a fic written for merlin_land. The challenge was 'Arthur Finds Out' and I rolled 'Past' and 'Present' (with respect to 3x13). I'm posting 'Past' first - it's an AU of 1x03, The Curse of Nimueh. For those who read it from merlin_land, this version is waaaay extended so there's new things in there.
Title: Even Thunderclouds Wear Silver Linings (1/1)
Rating: G
Pairing(s): None (Merlin, Arthur)
Summary: Alternative 1x03. Merlin tries to fix the world by himself. Arthur is no fool. Sometimes curses are blessings in disguise.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 10,000
Disclaimer: Merlin does not belong to me; this is a fanwork only.
Author's Notes: I'm fairly satisfied this, but I don't find it particularly interesting or exciting - it's certainly not a stand-out kinda fic. If nothing else it got me back in the mood to write things again, though - and the word count is pretty epic for me, even if it's mostly nonsense! I've been reading a lot of SPN fic in the hurt/comfort genre, so this fic has a fair amount of Merlin h/c. Also: Title!Fail!
Even Thunderclouds Wear Silver Linings
~~~
Wear (wâr) v.
1. To carry or have on the person as covering, adornment, or protection.
2. Nautical To come about.
3. To last under continual or hard use; to last through the passage of time.
~~~
“It seemed so simple, Gaius,” Merlin protested. One look at his mentor’s face across the table told him that Gaius was still angry - but though Merlin felt remorse over how out of hand the situation had become so quickly he could not bring himself to regret healing Tom, even in light of Gwen’s imprisonment. Sure, it had been a foolish and naïve thing to do - but it had also been the right thing.
Besides, Merlin had never claimed to be the sharpest sword in the armoury.
Gaius had held his silence all through the long walk from the council chambers to their quarters, and Merlin’s dread at his impending drubbing down had swelled with each step. His fear had been well founded; Merlin had never known Gaius to speak in that tone of voice before; that mix of barely restrained anger, disappointment and fear. Still, he’d hoped that now, a few hours after the initial argument, Gaius would be at least a little more receptive to seeing things from his own point of view.
Merlin gave up trying to choke his soup down, pushing the bowl away with a sigh. He’d only been trying to help, though admittedly things always seemed to go awry when he did that. (Ewan. Valiant. The enchanted shield. Case in point, though it had all turned out in the end.)
But Gwen’s father had been dying; dying of the same mysterious illness that was spreading all throughout the lower town. There was no way Merlin could have allowed himself to do anything but try to save him. He knew how special the bond between a child and an only parent was, and if there was only one thing that his magic was useful for, he’d reasoned, surely it would be to protect precious things like that.
But it didn’t change the fact that his best friend was now in a Camelot dungeon, waiting to be burnt at the stake. He’d saved one life only to lose another.
“It all seemed so simple,” Merlin repeated softly.
Gaius sighed, his gaze heavy on the lad - because really, he was only a boy - hunched over on the stool next to him. Firelight flickered over his drawn face.
Gaius’s anger at his ward’s actions had long since faded (it was nearly impossible to stay angry at Merlin for any great length of time, he thought wryly), but the fear yet remained. Fear that Merlin would never learn to think his actions through - and that next time, the consequences would be borne by far more than the handful of people snared in the current situation. Merlin needed to harden his heart, Gaius realised - and that was a lesson that only bitter experience could teach. He sighed again.
“An easy solution is like a light in a storm, Merlin,” the older man said gently. “Rush for it at your peril, for it may not always lead you to a safe harbour.”
“I can see that now,” Merlin muttered sullenly. Gaius eyed him sharply.
“How many times have I warned you about the responsibilities of being a warlock?”
“But doesn’t that responsibility extend beyond just Arthur? I can save lives, Gaius!” Merlin cried, struggling to put words to the drive he felt. “You said it yourself - this sickness is bad, and it’s spreading by the hour. I don’t doubt that you’ll find a cure for it using science, but Gaius - science takes time. How many more fathers like Tom are going to lose their lives in the meantime?”
Gaius looked away, troubled.
“I know you want to help, Merlin, but you must be careful.” He caught the miserable look on the warlock’s face and his own expression softened. “I will ask the king to tell the people to draw their water from the outer cistern - it comes from a different source than the one that feeds the lower city. It’s not a long term solution, but hopefully we can prevent others from falling ill until we find the source of the disease.”
Merlin nodded wearily, accepting the compromise.
“We’ll talk more about this in the morning,” Gaius said, eying his companion’s drooping eyelids. Merlin rose, and for a moment the room spun around him. It had been a long day - he was exhausted. Gaius pushed him gently in the direction of his room. “Get some sleep, Merlin.”
Merlin did not get to sleep that night.
He stayed up, squinting at the moonlit pages of his book of magic, desperately reading through healing spells, purification spells, protection spells… anything that could possibly help prevent Camelot from becoming a city of the dead, because that’s what would happen if this epidemic continued on the way that it was.
The fact was… If anyone had the power to fix this, it was him - and that meant he had a responsibility - a duty - to do so, regardless of his secrets.
Scribbling down a few of the more promising options, Merlin quickly gathered up a few supplies and slipped from the room, pausing only to resettle the blankets on his sleeping mentor’s shoulders.
The trip to the lower town was chilly. It took Merlin longer than it usual to get there, forced as he was to detour around the guard posts that had been set up to enforce the quarantine, and by the time he arrived at the main well his skin was prickling with cold. He quickly drew a bucket of water; eyed it warily.
“Right, Merlin.” he muttered. “No wool gathering. Get to work.” He rolled up his sleeves, steeling himself. Then the young warlock immersed his hands in the tainted water, opening up his magic as he did so…
…And immediately reeled back, retching with shock and revulsion.
The taint in the water was definitely magical. And it was bad.
~~~~
Contrary to the belief of certain individuals, Arthur Pendragon was no fool.
It mystified him how anyone could possibly come to that conclusion. He was the crown prince, after all, and while the position was passed down by blood, the knowledge it required was not. Furthermore, he was Camelot’s First Knight - he knew how to plan a battle, how to lead men, how to spot an opponent’s weakness… And above all, he knew the importance of a sharp eye.
Which was how he knew that Gaius and Merlin were keeping something from him.
To reiterate: Arthur was no fool.
He’d seen the slightly panicked looks the two of them had traded during the search of their quarters. He’d noticed the way his manservant had deliberately positioned himself by the bed when they’d reached his room - and he’d caught the flicker of the bed sheet as it settled over something on the floor. What he’d not caught was what that ‘something’ was… which begged two questions:
What was Merlin hiding…and why was he hiding it?
The answer to the second question could only be that the ‘something’ violated one or more of Camelot’s more serious laws in some way, and that revelation had shocked Arthur so much that he’d, well… Okay, fine. He admitted it. He’d panicked, leaving the physician’s quarters a swiftly as he’d arrived.
The answer to the first question, however, was still a mystery… which was why Arthur found himself in his manservant’s room in the middle of the day, when every other normal person was out in the sunshine enjoying lunch. Gaius was sitting in with his father - a rare private audience - and Merlin was… well. Who knew where Merlin was? The idiot had scarpered soon after completing his morning duties and Arthur hadn’t seen him since. If he knew what was good for him, though, he’d be in Arthur’s chambers right now, setting out the midday meal. Arthur’s stomach growled at the thought. He grimaced. Best to get this over with quickly.
The prince quickly shut the rough wooden door behind him and turned to survey the room. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at how messy Merlin had managed to make the room despite how few possessions he owned, but he was. Snorting, he headed straight for the unmade bed (which didn’t surprise him in the slightest - Merlin had looked like he’d just rolled out of it when he’d roused Arthur that morning), and settled on his knees.
A thorough search under the bed revealed no suspicious objects - just an assortment of clothes (cupboard, Merlin! How many times did he have to say it?), a dagger (poorly made, but oddly familiar) and… a stone dog’s paw…? Weird, but not contraband.
Not to be put off, Arthur set to work knocking on the wooden floorboards. Prince he might be, but boys were boys, and Little Arthur had hidden all manner of things under a particular loose panel in his own room. (Actually, he still did.) Starting at the northern corner of the room, he slowly worked his way across the floor, ignoring the thought of how ridiculous he’d look if someone were to open the door.
Near the foot of the bed, he struck gold.
Grinning triumphantly, Arthur quickly levered the loose board up and reached inside. His fingers instantly recognised the texture of leather, and he soon found himself staring at a hefty, well fingered book. Frowning, he flipped through a few pages.
His eyes widened.
It was a book of magic.
Magic.
Arthur stared incredulously at it.
Merlin. Bumbling, clumsy, too-talkative Merlin. Had a book on magic.
Perhaps it wasn’t Merlin’s book. Perhaps it belonged to a previous occupant.
It fit, though. It fit with Gaius’ panicked, pointed looks and Merlin’s shifty behaviour…
But just because Merlin had a book of magic, it didn’t mean he was a practitioner himself… right?
Shaking his head grimly at yet another unanswered question, Arthur tucked the book into the folds of his coat and made for the door. He had to get to the afternoon council session, but for now… for now, he’d keep the book with him. He had some thinking to do.
~~~~
Merlin cursed with frustration as he watched that day’s body cart trundle around the lower city. The cart was just a speck from his bedroom window, but he knew what it was. Gods knew he’d seen it enough times. He slammed his fist into the window ledge, barely feeling the sting, and cursed again.
For the past two nights he’d returned to the well, trying all the spells he could think of in an attempt to purify the city’s water supply. The nausea he felt when he worked his magic around the contamination seemed to have settled in his bones, and he’d long since learnt to skimp on dinner. Coupled with his work for Gaius and his duties for Arthur, his midnight exertions were beginning to take their toll.
And Arthur kept looking at him strangely.
He sometimes caught the prince staring at him from the corner of his eye. He’d turn, only to have Arthur shift his gaze, his expression carefully blank. Merlin was at a loss to explain what had changed.
Stop thinking about Arthur, Merlin reprimanded himself sternly. Think about more important things - like how to fight this epidemic.
The warlock scrubbed a tired hand over his face. He stumbled back to the rickety chair in the corner of the room, head buzzing with tiredness, and sat down gratefully. He tried to focus on the words on the book in front of him - different to his usual text which had, worryingly, disappeared from its hiding place under the floorboards - but found it hard to concentrate through his growing aggravation.
Depressingly, his efforts didn’t seem to be making much difference. People were still getting sick, although at a slightly slower rate than before. Merlin thought, bitterly, that that was probably due more to the use of the outer cistern than any success of his own. He’d begun stopping at plague houses on his way home; had had some success at healing the illness directly…
But people were still dying.
People were still dying and his magic was doing nothing. Nothing.
Gods, he was fed up of it. He knew his tiredness was clouding his thoughts, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was fed up of trying and trying and trying and never succeeding. Sure, he’d saved a handful of people - but that was barely a drop in the ocean of what he should, surely, have been able to do. And to add salt to the wound, Gwen, his best friend, was in jail because of what he’d done. Her execution loomed with each passing day…
…And that was all on him.
Merlin clenched his fists; ground his teeth with determination. There had to be something he could do! If he couldn’t save the people of Camelot… then surely he could save his best friend.
Arthur stared worriedly at the figures on the page before him. The number of citizens contracting whatever it was that was moving through the water supply seemed to have reached equilibrium, thanks to the use of the outer cistern… but as the figures in front of him showed, the outer cistern alone could not support the entire population of the lower city much longer. The water was running out.
The prince passed a hand over his face tiredly. Save for a few isolated reports of miraculous healings in the lower town, good news was sparse on the ground. It seemed that all he did these days was worry. About the epidemic. About the water supply. The quarantine. The morale of his people… He’d lost count of the sleepless hours he’d spent thinking about Gwen - it was now her third day in prison, although thanks to the apparent stall in the spread of the illness Morgana had successfully petitioned his father to postpone the execution sentence. That was something, at least.
And then there was Merlin.
Arthur had managed to avoid thinking about Merlin and the Book (because it was always ‘Book’ in his mind, and not ‘book’), taken as he was with his other duties. Then he’d put off saying anything because, although he’d never say it out loud, Merlin looked… well. He came to Arthur’s chambers every morning looking dishevelled and drawn. His usually ceaseless babble of chatter had given way to dull, monotone replies, and Arthur was surprised to realise that he didn’t care for the substitution.
In short, Merlin looked like crap.
He looked, Arthur thought with a sudden chill, sick. Contaminated water sick.
But as the numbers in front of his eyes merged into meaningless squiggles the prince realised he could not put off talking to Merlin any longer. The epidemic was reaching a critical point, and perhaps… if the Book could help…
The doors to the council chamber opened with a sudden bang, jerking Arthur out of his musings. He half rose before he knew what he was doing, hand on his sword, but seeing the figure in the doorway his eyes widened…
Speak of the devil.
“Mer-“ he began.
“It was me!” Merlin announced. “I used magic to cure Gwen's father!”
The council chamber descended into abrupt silence, so quiet that Arthur could hear the suddenly fast thudding of his heart in his ears.
“Gwen is not the sorcerer - I am!”
Arthur felt the blood drain from his face.
What-
The chamber erupted into confused shouting as suddenly as the silence had fallen.
“Merlin! Are you mad?”
“I cannot let her die for me!”
“Sire, he doesn't know what he's talking about!”
“I do!”
“Then arrest him.”
The three words jolted Arthur from his stunned silence. This was going too far, too fast. He quickly came to a decision. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that his hapless manservant was a sorcerer - he didn’t have enough guile for that; Merlin was a hopeless liar! - but perhaps he knew who the Book belonged to.
“Father, please!” Arthur said with just the right amount of chagrin and disbelief, “I can't allow this! This is madness! There's no way Merlin is a sorcerer.”
“He admitted it,” Uther frowned.
“He saved my life, remember.”
Merlin shot him a surprised glance.
“Why should he fabricate such a story?”
Arthur thought quickly. “As Gaius said, he’s got a... grave mental disease.”
The shock on Merlin’s face turned to confusion. Perfect.
“He’s in love.”
“What?”
“With Gwen,” Arthur continued. Confusion swiftly turned to irritation.
“I'm not in love with her!”
Grinning, sensing success, Arthur slung an arm around his manservant’s shoulders, gripping a little too tight to be entirely friendly. He felt Merlin tense beside him and squeezed tighter, the warning clear.
For god’s sake, Merlin - keep your mouth shut!
“Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he's such an idiot!” Arthur paused for effect. God bless his rhetoric tutor. “There's no way he's a sorcerer.”
There was a moment of expectant silence. Then, “Don't waste my time again,” Uther said. “Let him go.”
“We need to talk,” Arthur hissed in Merlin’s ear as he ushered him to the door. “Wait for me in my chambers.”
Gods, Merlin thought numbly, Arthur was right - he was so stupid! He couldn’t believe he’d just marched into the council chambers and confessed to sorcery - in front of the king, no less! And now Arthur knew.
Arthur must have found the book.
He knew Merlin was a sorcerer.
Cold fear chased all trace of tiredness away. Horrified, Merlin bolted for his rooms. He hastily stuffed his pack full of possessions; anything that came to hand. There was no question of staying, now - he had to leave the castle before Arthur and Gaius left the council meeting. He’d go to one of the plague houses; heal as many as he could before the guards came to get him. Who knew, perhaps if he saved enough people Uther would believe the epidemic was ending, and release Gwen. The fact that Arthur would never have defended his manservant in the first place if he was going to arrest him went unnoticed in Merlin’s panicked mind.
He was out of the castle in minutes.
~~~~
Arthur returned to his chambers only to find them decidedly Merlin-less.
“Dammit, Merlin,” he swore. “What part of ‘wait for me in my chambers’ did you not understand?” Pausing only to snatch up the Book, he strode towards Gaius’ quarters.
“Sire?”
Gaius looked up sharply from the paper he was reading as the door thudded open.
“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur said shortly.
“Well, he’s not here, sire…”
“I can see that!” Arthur snapped. “Where is he?”
“I thought he was with-"
“Don’t lie to me, Gaius!”
Gaius recoiled, shocked.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered to a deadly murmur. “I want to know what you’re hiding, Gaius. I want to know why Merlin had this-“ he hefted the Book in his hand “-in his possession.”
Gaius flinched, and Arthur felt cold.
“It’s you, isn’t it? The Book is yours. You’re the sorcerer!”
It was the only explanation. But it was a bad one… because he knew Gaius was already doing everything in his power to resolve the epidemic, and if he was a sorcerer and still wasn’t having any success… Arthur shook his head. Suddenly, he found himself hoping that Merlin was the sorcerer, because that would at least provide a little more hope.
Bloody hell. His world had turned mad.
“Look, Gaius…” he said finally, “I’m not here to arrest you or Merlin. I just… I just want to talk. That’s all.”
Sighing, Gaius offered Arthur the paper in his hands. The prince read through the scribbled note quickly, and swore under his breath.
Gaius, (it read)
Arthur has the book. I think he knows about me. I can’t stay here any longer. I’m going to stay at one of the plague houses - the one near the cooper’s lane - until I’m arrested. Come and see me, if you can. I’m sorry.
Merlin.
“He went to a plague house?” Arthur exclaimed incredulously. “Is he mad?”
“You are referring to Merlin, aren’t you?” Gaius said dryly.
Arthur grimaced. Point taken. “I’ll go get him,” he decided.
“Sire!” Gaius said, alarmed. “The lower town is under strict quarantine and you are the crown prince! It would be extremely irresponsible to expose yourself in such a way.”
“Damn responsibility,” Arthur growled.
~~~~
Merlin never made it to the plague house.
He barrelled through an intersection and along a street he knew would lead him through a small marketplace, which fed into the lower town. But as the market square came into view his running footsteps slowed to a stop.
There were bodies in the square.
Six blanket-wrapped lumps were huddled against an empty stall. One of them coughed painfully and it was with intense relief that Merlin realised that these people were still alive. In fact, he would probably have sensed the magical illness two streets back had he not had his magic-sense clamped down so painfully tight. He drew closer. The figures became clearer…
Merlin’s heart constricted in his chest. He swore softly.
There were six children.
Evidently they were homeless; they’d not heard the message about the water, or hadn’t had the strength to make the trek to the outer cistern. Instead, they’d drunk from their usual water pumps… and had paid the price.
Merlin dropped to his knees beside the first child - a boy only a few years younger than he was - and carefully placed one hand on his fevered forehead and the other on his labouring chest. He had practice with this illness, now. He knew how it rooted deep in the body and corrupted the tissues. He’d also learnt how to gauge the progress of the disease… and none of these children had much time left.
“Hold on,” he muttered, and opened up his magic.
Immediately, nausea roiled in his gut.
Yeah. These kids had the water sickness, alright - and had it bad.
He waited until the worst of it had passed and plunged his magic into the boy’s body, willing it to find the root of the taint in his system, sinking through skin and flesh and muscle and bone until-
There.
“Gestathole,” he chanted. “Gestathole thurhhaele!”
Gritting his teeth with concentration, Merlin let the magic flow out of him until it surrounded the illness. Then he fed even more magic in, building it higher and higher until finally, the poison began to burn away. He felt the boy shudder once beneath him, his body jerking as if under an unnatural strain…
“Gestathole…”
Come on, Merlin thought as the illness slowly began to shrink. Just a little longer…
“Gestathole!”
There. Done.
Merlin sat back, gasping. He blinked spots from his eyes.
A young boy peered up at him from between the folds of a threadbare blanket.
“Who’re you?” he said belligerently.
Merlin grinned, weary but triumphant. One down. Five to go.
By the time Merlin was done with the third child - a girl barely ten years old - he could barely see straight. He’d never healed so many people in one sitting, and the brute force approach to burning the illness away… it took a lot of juice.
His stomach got the better of him after the fourth child; he retched, turning away hastily in an effort to hide his reaction from his audience. He drank a little from his waterskin to rinse the taste of bile from his mouth before passing the rest of it to the recovering children. After resting for a couple of minutes, he pressed on.
The last child was a trial. The illness had rooted seemingly everywhere; it clung to his magic like mud, fighting him on every frontier. He briefly lost physical contact when the body shivered violently under his hands and started again, growling with frustration. He felt someone come up beside him and hold the child down but could not spare the concentration to thank them before his awareness narrowed again.
Merlin came out of the healing with a jolt. He listed sideways, only to have someone catch him securely around the shoulders.
“Easy, Merlin. Easy, lad.”
Was that-
“Gaius?” he croaked. He blinked blearily and his mentor’s face came into focus. So did another.
“Arthur?!”
The prince stared at him, eyes wide, shocked, and a tiny bit awed.
“God have mercy…” he breathed. “You really are a sorcerer!”
Gaius watched the situation unfold with more than a little trepidation. He had led Arthur to the small market square in order to avoid passing one of the quarantine guard posts, only to stop dead when he’d caught sight of that familiar mop of dark hair, bent over a child who couldn’t have reached double digits yet. For a second he’d contemplated ushering Arthur in a different direction… but even as he’d posed the question the prince had pushed past him, eyes as wide as they were now.
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you,” Merlin was saying earnestly. “Really, I am.”
Arthur was silent. He looked around at the six thin, grubby faces; at the young lad that still lay, resting, under his hands. Then, “I’m sorry, too,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry that you lied to me.” Arthur took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry you had to lie to me.”
Merlin stared. “You… I… You’re not going to arrest me? I thought- you found my book, and…”
“If I was going to arrest you I’d have let my father do it in Council this morning, you idiot,” Arthur pointed out bemusedly.
“But- I have magic, Arthur!”
“I can see that!”
“It’s against the law!”
“I think I know what’s against the law and what isn’t, Merlin!” Arthur said sharply. He sighed. A part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to leave before he irrevocably and irreparably broke the law he’d sword to uphold. He pushed it down.
“Look… The fact is… You can fight this illness. You can help save the lives of my people… And that’s more than I can do, God help me,” he added bitterly.
“So… you’re not going to execute me?” Merlin repeated.
“No, Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed exasperatedly. “Honestly, does anything I say penetrate that thick skull of yours?”
“Hey!”
There was a moment of awkward, anti-climactic silence. Then, “You know what the best part of this is?” Merlin said, grinning.
Arthur rolled his eyes expectantly. “What, Merlin?”
“You can’t say I didn’t tell you! I did - right in front of the king!”
Arthur couldn’t help himself. He tipped back his head and laughed.
For the first time in many hours, Merlin allowed himself to relax. Relief coursed through his veins, leaving him feeling weightless. Everything had turned out. It was going to be alright. Gods.
Eventually, though, the laughter petered out. Arthur looked at Gaius, at Merlin, and the six, slightly bewildered, children.
“So… what happens now?”
“While Merlin is here, I would like to take a look around the water system that supplies the lower city.” Gaius smoothly ignored the deeper implications of the question. “I believe we may find some clue as to the source of the enchantment.”
Arthur eyed Merlin’s waxy complexion dubiously. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, Gaius, but are you sure? He doesn’t look so good…”
“We won’t be long,” Gaius assured him, “I just need to collect a sample. Perhaps Merlin’s magic will be able to point us in the right direction.”
“I could go with you…”
“The king expects you for the evening meal, if I’m not mistaken.”
Dammit. Gaius was right. “I still think he looks-“
“He is right here,” Merlin interrupted, glaring from his place on the floor. “And he is fine, thanks.”
“Sure you are,” Arthur said sarcastically. “You just prefer to sit on the freezing cold floor.”
Grumbling, Merlin gathered his feet beneath him and, conscious of the assessing gaze of his two companions, pushed himself to his feet, locking his knees against the expected surge of dizziness. He waited until the world rolled more or less into place and then raised his eyebrows at Arthur - There. Happy?
“Fine,” Arthur said shortly. “Let me know if you find anything, Gaius. And you-” he waved a finger at Merlin, “-meet me in my chambers when you get back - and no running away this time! We have a lot to discuss.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I thought I was going to be arrested!” he groused. “Of course I bloody ran!”
Arthur snorted something about excuses, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Merlin called. He gestured to the children, who eyed the prince and his warlock companion with a mixture of fear, curiosity and awe. “What about… err…”
Arthur made a face. He couldn’t in good conscience leave the children on the street, but at the idea of them living in the castle made him uneasy. They’d seen Merlin perform magic, after all, and children were talkative.
“I’ll take them to Tom’s,” he decided. “They can stay there until we can get something more permanent arranged. Does that suit you?” he asked the oldest child, arching an eyebrow.
The boy, who was perhaps as tall as Arthur’s hip, shot a quick glance at his companions. “Y-yes. Sire,” he added hastily.
“See, Merlin? Even the boy knows how to address me properly.”
“Sod off,” Merlin muttered. Eyeing the darkened skies, he waved over a nearby torch and lit it with a thought.
“Merlin!” Gaius and Arthur hissed simultaneously.
“What now?”
“We are in the middle of a market square! Anyone could have seen that!”
“Oh,” Merlin said sheepishly. “Right. Sorry.”
“Lord almighty, Merlin! I wonder at how you managed to last this long!”
“Alright, alright! You've made your point!”
Arthur sighed dramatically. “Here. Give me that.” He snatched the torch up and began ushering the children from the square. “And remember - my chambers! Tonight! Or I’ll have you in the stocks for a week, sorcerer or no!”
~~~~
Merlin forced his aching legs to climb the few stairs to his room, feet dragging against the floor, and entered with a worn sigh. So much had changed since the last time he’d been here just - hell, just a few hours ago!
Arthur had come looking for him.
Arthur knew he had magic.
Arthur was not going to have him executed.
There was a creature in the water system.
Merlin let his pack drop to the floor and rolled his shoulders, wincing. Gods, but he was as sore as when he’d first learnt to ride…
What was he doing again?
Oh, right.
Arthur. Chambers. Talking.
Blinking stupidly, Merlin stumbled over to the bed and, catching sight of a (mostly) clean change of clothes under the bed, quickly dropped to his hands and knees. A surge of darkness flickered across his vision. Merlin shook his head.
Huh. Maybe he was tireder than he’d thought.
Just another hour or two, he promised himself. Then he’d blow the candles; grab a good, uninterrupted night’s rest before trying to figure out what that creature was - and how to get rid of it - in the morning.
Finally, Merlin’s questing hands found the fresh tunic and he sat back on his heels, coughing a little as his breath caught in his throat. Damn dust. Another surge of vertigo threatened to topple him; he scooted quickly backwards, propping his back against the side of the bed as his strength failed him completely. He’d just… rest here for a moment. Just… rest his eyes… only for… a second…
~~~~
Gaius sighed as he began his bedtime rituals. It had been a long night. The search of the lower town’s water system had been… unexpectedly harrowing. He would get what rest he could from the remainder of the night and begin researching the creature he’d glimpsed in the morning.
Merlin had disappeared into his room to freshen up before heading to Arthur’s chambers. Gaius hoped the prince would not keep him up too late - the lad looked quite done in. Speaking of which…
Gaius paused.
Merlin ought to have been out of his room by now.
Forcing himself not to panic, the elderly physician mounted the stairs as fast as his creaky limbs would allow. After a polite, unanswered knock, he opened the door.
~~~~
Arthur charged down to Gaius’ quarters in record time, his earlier drowsiness forgotten.
“Gaius?” he called as he entered.
“In here, sire.”
The prince barrelled through the doorway to Merlin’s room; stopped short a few paces from the bed. He swore softly. There was no denying it.
Merlin had the water sickness.
Arthur swallowed.
“How long does he have?”
“It’s difficult to say…” Gaius shifted uneasily. “A day. Perhaps less.”
“How did this even happen?” Arthur mumbled, scrubbing his face tiredly. “Merlin knew about the water. He wouldn’t have drunk it. He’s an idiot - but he’s not that stupid.”
“Merlin has been visiting the lower town wells for the past two nights, sire.” Gaius shrugged helplessly. “I can only guess he exposed himself to the illness during his attempts to lift the curse on the water supply.”
Realisation rolled over him. That would explain why Merlin had looked so drawn out for the last few days.
“Can you… can you heal him?”
Gaius shook his head, and Arthur’s heart sank.
“If we can lift the curse, it may restore his health to him. Our exploration of the lower town’s water system has given me a few ideas, but it will take time to narrow down exactly what we are dealing with.”
Arthur cast another glance in Merlin’s direction. His manservant was pallid; veins standing out stark against his almost translucent skin.
“Time… he doesn’t have time.” Arthur shook his head. Just minutes earlier he’d been pacing his room, solely occupied with worrying about whether he was making the right decision to harbour a sorcerer in his household. Now, it seemed the choice might be taken out of his hands. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“The only remedy I know of is Merlin’s magic. He cannot heal himself, sire…”
“Wait!”
The prince straightened suddenly.
Then, to Gaius’ astonishment he said, “Yes, Gaius! He can!”
( Continued)
Title: Even Thunderclouds Wear Silver Linings (1/1)
Rating: G
Pairing(s): None (Merlin, Arthur)
Summary: Alternative 1x03. Merlin tries to fix the world by himself. Arthur is no fool. Sometimes curses are blessings in disguise.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 10,000
Disclaimer: Merlin does not belong to me; this is a fanwork only.
Author's Notes: I'm fairly satisfied this, but I don't find it particularly interesting or exciting - it's certainly not a stand-out kinda fic. If nothing else it got me back in the mood to write things again, though - and the word count is pretty epic for me, even if it's mostly nonsense! I've been reading a lot of SPN fic in the hurt/comfort genre, so this fic has a fair amount of Merlin h/c. Also: Title!Fail!
Even Thunderclouds Wear Silver Linings
~~~
Wear (wâr) v.
1. To carry or have on the person as covering, adornment, or protection.
2. Nautical To come about.
3. To last under continual or hard use; to last through the passage of time.
~~~
“It seemed so simple, Gaius,” Merlin protested. One look at his mentor’s face across the table told him that Gaius was still angry - but though Merlin felt remorse over how out of hand the situation had become so quickly he could not bring himself to regret healing Tom, even in light of Gwen’s imprisonment. Sure, it had been a foolish and naïve thing to do - but it had also been the right thing.
Besides, Merlin had never claimed to be the sharpest sword in the armoury.
Gaius had held his silence all through the long walk from the council chambers to their quarters, and Merlin’s dread at his impending drubbing down had swelled with each step. His fear had been well founded; Merlin had never known Gaius to speak in that tone of voice before; that mix of barely restrained anger, disappointment and fear. Still, he’d hoped that now, a few hours after the initial argument, Gaius would be at least a little more receptive to seeing things from his own point of view.
Merlin gave up trying to choke his soup down, pushing the bowl away with a sigh. He’d only been trying to help, though admittedly things always seemed to go awry when he did that. (Ewan. Valiant. The enchanted shield. Case in point, though it had all turned out in the end.)
But Gwen’s father had been dying; dying of the same mysterious illness that was spreading all throughout the lower town. There was no way Merlin could have allowed himself to do anything but try to save him. He knew how special the bond between a child and an only parent was, and if there was only one thing that his magic was useful for, he’d reasoned, surely it would be to protect precious things like that.
But it didn’t change the fact that his best friend was now in a Camelot dungeon, waiting to be burnt at the stake. He’d saved one life only to lose another.
“It all seemed so simple,” Merlin repeated softly.
Gaius sighed, his gaze heavy on the lad - because really, he was only a boy - hunched over on the stool next to him. Firelight flickered over his drawn face.
Gaius’s anger at his ward’s actions had long since faded (it was nearly impossible to stay angry at Merlin for any great length of time, he thought wryly), but the fear yet remained. Fear that Merlin would never learn to think his actions through - and that next time, the consequences would be borne by far more than the handful of people snared in the current situation. Merlin needed to harden his heart, Gaius realised - and that was a lesson that only bitter experience could teach. He sighed again.
“An easy solution is like a light in a storm, Merlin,” the older man said gently. “Rush for it at your peril, for it may not always lead you to a safe harbour.”
“I can see that now,” Merlin muttered sullenly. Gaius eyed him sharply.
“How many times have I warned you about the responsibilities of being a warlock?”
“But doesn’t that responsibility extend beyond just Arthur? I can save lives, Gaius!” Merlin cried, struggling to put words to the drive he felt. “You said it yourself - this sickness is bad, and it’s spreading by the hour. I don’t doubt that you’ll find a cure for it using science, but Gaius - science takes time. How many more fathers like Tom are going to lose their lives in the meantime?”
Gaius looked away, troubled.
“I know you want to help, Merlin, but you must be careful.” He caught the miserable look on the warlock’s face and his own expression softened. “I will ask the king to tell the people to draw their water from the outer cistern - it comes from a different source than the one that feeds the lower city. It’s not a long term solution, but hopefully we can prevent others from falling ill until we find the source of the disease.”
Merlin nodded wearily, accepting the compromise.
“We’ll talk more about this in the morning,” Gaius said, eying his companion’s drooping eyelids. Merlin rose, and for a moment the room spun around him. It had been a long day - he was exhausted. Gaius pushed him gently in the direction of his room. “Get some sleep, Merlin.”
Merlin did not get to sleep that night.
He stayed up, squinting at the moonlit pages of his book of magic, desperately reading through healing spells, purification spells, protection spells… anything that could possibly help prevent Camelot from becoming a city of the dead, because that’s what would happen if this epidemic continued on the way that it was.
The fact was… If anyone had the power to fix this, it was him - and that meant he had a responsibility - a duty - to do so, regardless of his secrets.
Scribbling down a few of the more promising options, Merlin quickly gathered up a few supplies and slipped from the room, pausing only to resettle the blankets on his sleeping mentor’s shoulders.
The trip to the lower town was chilly. It took Merlin longer than it usual to get there, forced as he was to detour around the guard posts that had been set up to enforce the quarantine, and by the time he arrived at the main well his skin was prickling with cold. He quickly drew a bucket of water; eyed it warily.
“Right, Merlin.” he muttered. “No wool gathering. Get to work.” He rolled up his sleeves, steeling himself. Then the young warlock immersed his hands in the tainted water, opening up his magic as he did so…
…And immediately reeled back, retching with shock and revulsion.
The taint in the water was definitely magical. And it was bad.
~~~~
Contrary to the belief of certain individuals, Arthur Pendragon was no fool.
It mystified him how anyone could possibly come to that conclusion. He was the crown prince, after all, and while the position was passed down by blood, the knowledge it required was not. Furthermore, he was Camelot’s First Knight - he knew how to plan a battle, how to lead men, how to spot an opponent’s weakness… And above all, he knew the importance of a sharp eye.
Which was how he knew that Gaius and Merlin were keeping something from him.
To reiterate: Arthur was no fool.
He’d seen the slightly panicked looks the two of them had traded during the search of their quarters. He’d noticed the way his manservant had deliberately positioned himself by the bed when they’d reached his room - and he’d caught the flicker of the bed sheet as it settled over something on the floor. What he’d not caught was what that ‘something’ was… which begged two questions:
What was Merlin hiding…and why was he hiding it?
The answer to the second question could only be that the ‘something’ violated one or more of Camelot’s more serious laws in some way, and that revelation had shocked Arthur so much that he’d, well… Okay, fine. He admitted it. He’d panicked, leaving the physician’s quarters a swiftly as he’d arrived.
The answer to the first question, however, was still a mystery… which was why Arthur found himself in his manservant’s room in the middle of the day, when every other normal person was out in the sunshine enjoying lunch. Gaius was sitting in with his father - a rare private audience - and Merlin was… well. Who knew where Merlin was? The idiot had scarpered soon after completing his morning duties and Arthur hadn’t seen him since. If he knew what was good for him, though, he’d be in Arthur’s chambers right now, setting out the midday meal. Arthur’s stomach growled at the thought. He grimaced. Best to get this over with quickly.
The prince quickly shut the rough wooden door behind him and turned to survey the room. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised at how messy Merlin had managed to make the room despite how few possessions he owned, but he was. Snorting, he headed straight for the unmade bed (which didn’t surprise him in the slightest - Merlin had looked like he’d just rolled out of it when he’d roused Arthur that morning), and settled on his knees.
A thorough search under the bed revealed no suspicious objects - just an assortment of clothes (cupboard, Merlin! How many times did he have to say it?), a dagger (poorly made, but oddly familiar) and… a stone dog’s paw…? Weird, but not contraband.
Not to be put off, Arthur set to work knocking on the wooden floorboards. Prince he might be, but boys were boys, and Little Arthur had hidden all manner of things under a particular loose panel in his own room. (Actually, he still did.) Starting at the northern corner of the room, he slowly worked his way across the floor, ignoring the thought of how ridiculous he’d look if someone were to open the door.
Near the foot of the bed, he struck gold.
Grinning triumphantly, Arthur quickly levered the loose board up and reached inside. His fingers instantly recognised the texture of leather, and he soon found himself staring at a hefty, well fingered book. Frowning, he flipped through a few pages.
His eyes widened.
It was a book of magic.
Magic.
Arthur stared incredulously at it.
Merlin. Bumbling, clumsy, too-talkative Merlin. Had a book on magic.
Perhaps it wasn’t Merlin’s book. Perhaps it belonged to a previous occupant.
It fit, though. It fit with Gaius’ panicked, pointed looks and Merlin’s shifty behaviour…
But just because Merlin had a book of magic, it didn’t mean he was a practitioner himself… right?
Shaking his head grimly at yet another unanswered question, Arthur tucked the book into the folds of his coat and made for the door. He had to get to the afternoon council session, but for now… for now, he’d keep the book with him. He had some thinking to do.
~~~~
Merlin cursed with frustration as he watched that day’s body cart trundle around the lower city. The cart was just a speck from his bedroom window, but he knew what it was. Gods knew he’d seen it enough times. He slammed his fist into the window ledge, barely feeling the sting, and cursed again.
For the past two nights he’d returned to the well, trying all the spells he could think of in an attempt to purify the city’s water supply. The nausea he felt when he worked his magic around the contamination seemed to have settled in his bones, and he’d long since learnt to skimp on dinner. Coupled with his work for Gaius and his duties for Arthur, his midnight exertions were beginning to take their toll.
And Arthur kept looking at him strangely.
He sometimes caught the prince staring at him from the corner of his eye. He’d turn, only to have Arthur shift his gaze, his expression carefully blank. Merlin was at a loss to explain what had changed.
Stop thinking about Arthur, Merlin reprimanded himself sternly. Think about more important things - like how to fight this epidemic.
The warlock scrubbed a tired hand over his face. He stumbled back to the rickety chair in the corner of the room, head buzzing with tiredness, and sat down gratefully. He tried to focus on the words on the book in front of him - different to his usual text which had, worryingly, disappeared from its hiding place under the floorboards - but found it hard to concentrate through his growing aggravation.
Depressingly, his efforts didn’t seem to be making much difference. People were still getting sick, although at a slightly slower rate than before. Merlin thought, bitterly, that that was probably due more to the use of the outer cistern than any success of his own. He’d begun stopping at plague houses on his way home; had had some success at healing the illness directly…
But people were still dying.
People were still dying and his magic was doing nothing. Nothing.
Gods, he was fed up of it. He knew his tiredness was clouding his thoughts, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was fed up of trying and trying and trying and never succeeding. Sure, he’d saved a handful of people - but that was barely a drop in the ocean of what he should, surely, have been able to do. And to add salt to the wound, Gwen, his best friend, was in jail because of what he’d done. Her execution loomed with each passing day…
…And that was all on him.
Merlin clenched his fists; ground his teeth with determination. There had to be something he could do! If he couldn’t save the people of Camelot… then surely he could save his best friend.
Arthur stared worriedly at the figures on the page before him. The number of citizens contracting whatever it was that was moving through the water supply seemed to have reached equilibrium, thanks to the use of the outer cistern… but as the figures in front of him showed, the outer cistern alone could not support the entire population of the lower city much longer. The water was running out.
The prince passed a hand over his face tiredly. Save for a few isolated reports of miraculous healings in the lower town, good news was sparse on the ground. It seemed that all he did these days was worry. About the epidemic. About the water supply. The quarantine. The morale of his people… He’d lost count of the sleepless hours he’d spent thinking about Gwen - it was now her third day in prison, although thanks to the apparent stall in the spread of the illness Morgana had successfully petitioned his father to postpone the execution sentence. That was something, at least.
And then there was Merlin.
Arthur had managed to avoid thinking about Merlin and the Book (because it was always ‘Book’ in his mind, and not ‘book’), taken as he was with his other duties. Then he’d put off saying anything because, although he’d never say it out loud, Merlin looked… well. He came to Arthur’s chambers every morning looking dishevelled and drawn. His usually ceaseless babble of chatter had given way to dull, monotone replies, and Arthur was surprised to realise that he didn’t care for the substitution.
In short, Merlin looked like crap.
He looked, Arthur thought with a sudden chill, sick. Contaminated water sick.
But as the numbers in front of his eyes merged into meaningless squiggles the prince realised he could not put off talking to Merlin any longer. The epidemic was reaching a critical point, and perhaps… if the Book could help…
The doors to the council chamber opened with a sudden bang, jerking Arthur out of his musings. He half rose before he knew what he was doing, hand on his sword, but seeing the figure in the doorway his eyes widened…
Speak of the devil.
“Mer-“ he began.
“It was me!” Merlin announced. “I used magic to cure Gwen's father!”
The council chamber descended into abrupt silence, so quiet that Arthur could hear the suddenly fast thudding of his heart in his ears.
“Gwen is not the sorcerer - I am!”
Arthur felt the blood drain from his face.
What-
The chamber erupted into confused shouting as suddenly as the silence had fallen.
“Merlin! Are you mad?”
“I cannot let her die for me!”
“Sire, he doesn't know what he's talking about!”
“I do!”
“Then arrest him.”
The three words jolted Arthur from his stunned silence. This was going too far, too fast. He quickly came to a decision. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that his hapless manservant was a sorcerer - he didn’t have enough guile for that; Merlin was a hopeless liar! - but perhaps he knew who the Book belonged to.
“Father, please!” Arthur said with just the right amount of chagrin and disbelief, “I can't allow this! This is madness! There's no way Merlin is a sorcerer.”
“He admitted it,” Uther frowned.
“He saved my life, remember.”
Merlin shot him a surprised glance.
“Why should he fabricate such a story?”
Arthur thought quickly. “As Gaius said, he’s got a... grave mental disease.”
The shock on Merlin’s face turned to confusion. Perfect.
“He’s in love.”
“What?”
“With Gwen,” Arthur continued. Confusion swiftly turned to irritation.
“I'm not in love with her!”
Grinning, sensing success, Arthur slung an arm around his manservant’s shoulders, gripping a little too tight to be entirely friendly. He felt Merlin tense beside him and squeezed tighter, the warning clear.
For god’s sake, Merlin - keep your mouth shut!
“Merlin is a wonder, but the wonder is that he's such an idiot!” Arthur paused for effect. God bless his rhetoric tutor. “There's no way he's a sorcerer.”
There was a moment of expectant silence. Then, “Don't waste my time again,” Uther said. “Let him go.”
“We need to talk,” Arthur hissed in Merlin’s ear as he ushered him to the door. “Wait for me in my chambers.”
Gods, Merlin thought numbly, Arthur was right - he was so stupid! He couldn’t believe he’d just marched into the council chambers and confessed to sorcery - in front of the king, no less! And now Arthur knew.
Arthur must have found the book.
He knew Merlin was a sorcerer.
Cold fear chased all trace of tiredness away. Horrified, Merlin bolted for his rooms. He hastily stuffed his pack full of possessions; anything that came to hand. There was no question of staying, now - he had to leave the castle before Arthur and Gaius left the council meeting. He’d go to one of the plague houses; heal as many as he could before the guards came to get him. Who knew, perhaps if he saved enough people Uther would believe the epidemic was ending, and release Gwen. The fact that Arthur would never have defended his manservant in the first place if he was going to arrest him went unnoticed in Merlin’s panicked mind.
He was out of the castle in minutes.
~~~~
Arthur returned to his chambers only to find them decidedly Merlin-less.
“Dammit, Merlin,” he swore. “What part of ‘wait for me in my chambers’ did you not understand?” Pausing only to snatch up the Book, he strode towards Gaius’ quarters.
“Sire?”
Gaius looked up sharply from the paper he was reading as the door thudded open.
“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur said shortly.
“Well, he’s not here, sire…”
“I can see that!” Arthur snapped. “Where is he?”
“I thought he was with-"
“Don’t lie to me, Gaius!”
Gaius recoiled, shocked.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. His voice lowered to a deadly murmur. “I want to know what you’re hiding, Gaius. I want to know why Merlin had this-“ he hefted the Book in his hand “-in his possession.”
Gaius flinched, and Arthur felt cold.
“It’s you, isn’t it? The Book is yours. You’re the sorcerer!”
It was the only explanation. But it was a bad one… because he knew Gaius was already doing everything in his power to resolve the epidemic, and if he was a sorcerer and still wasn’t having any success… Arthur shook his head. Suddenly, he found himself hoping that Merlin was the sorcerer, because that would at least provide a little more hope.
Bloody hell. His world had turned mad.
“Look, Gaius…” he said finally, “I’m not here to arrest you or Merlin. I just… I just want to talk. That’s all.”
Sighing, Gaius offered Arthur the paper in his hands. The prince read through the scribbled note quickly, and swore under his breath.
Gaius, (it read)
Arthur has the book. I think he knows about me. I can’t stay here any longer. I’m going to stay at one of the plague houses - the one near the cooper’s lane - until I’m arrested. Come and see me, if you can. I’m sorry.
Merlin.
“He went to a plague house?” Arthur exclaimed incredulously. “Is he mad?”
“You are referring to Merlin, aren’t you?” Gaius said dryly.
Arthur grimaced. Point taken. “I’ll go get him,” he decided.
“Sire!” Gaius said, alarmed. “The lower town is under strict quarantine and you are the crown prince! It would be extremely irresponsible to expose yourself in such a way.”
“Damn responsibility,” Arthur growled.
~~~~
Merlin never made it to the plague house.
He barrelled through an intersection and along a street he knew would lead him through a small marketplace, which fed into the lower town. But as the market square came into view his running footsteps slowed to a stop.
There were bodies in the square.
Six blanket-wrapped lumps were huddled against an empty stall. One of them coughed painfully and it was with intense relief that Merlin realised that these people were still alive. In fact, he would probably have sensed the magical illness two streets back had he not had his magic-sense clamped down so painfully tight. He drew closer. The figures became clearer…
Merlin’s heart constricted in his chest. He swore softly.
There were six children.
Evidently they were homeless; they’d not heard the message about the water, or hadn’t had the strength to make the trek to the outer cistern. Instead, they’d drunk from their usual water pumps… and had paid the price.
Merlin dropped to his knees beside the first child - a boy only a few years younger than he was - and carefully placed one hand on his fevered forehead and the other on his labouring chest. He had practice with this illness, now. He knew how it rooted deep in the body and corrupted the tissues. He’d also learnt how to gauge the progress of the disease… and none of these children had much time left.
“Hold on,” he muttered, and opened up his magic.
Immediately, nausea roiled in his gut.
Yeah. These kids had the water sickness, alright - and had it bad.
He waited until the worst of it had passed and plunged his magic into the boy’s body, willing it to find the root of the taint in his system, sinking through skin and flesh and muscle and bone until-
There.
“Gestathole,” he chanted. “Gestathole thurhhaele!”
Gritting his teeth with concentration, Merlin let the magic flow out of him until it surrounded the illness. Then he fed even more magic in, building it higher and higher until finally, the poison began to burn away. He felt the boy shudder once beneath him, his body jerking as if under an unnatural strain…
“Gestathole…”
Come on, Merlin thought as the illness slowly began to shrink. Just a little longer…
“Gestathole!”
There. Done.
Merlin sat back, gasping. He blinked spots from his eyes.
A young boy peered up at him from between the folds of a threadbare blanket.
“Who’re you?” he said belligerently.
Merlin grinned, weary but triumphant. One down. Five to go.
By the time Merlin was done with the third child - a girl barely ten years old - he could barely see straight. He’d never healed so many people in one sitting, and the brute force approach to burning the illness away… it took a lot of juice.
His stomach got the better of him after the fourth child; he retched, turning away hastily in an effort to hide his reaction from his audience. He drank a little from his waterskin to rinse the taste of bile from his mouth before passing the rest of it to the recovering children. After resting for a couple of minutes, he pressed on.
The last child was a trial. The illness had rooted seemingly everywhere; it clung to his magic like mud, fighting him on every frontier. He briefly lost physical contact when the body shivered violently under his hands and started again, growling with frustration. He felt someone come up beside him and hold the child down but could not spare the concentration to thank them before his awareness narrowed again.
Merlin came out of the healing with a jolt. He listed sideways, only to have someone catch him securely around the shoulders.
“Easy, Merlin. Easy, lad.”
Was that-
“Gaius?” he croaked. He blinked blearily and his mentor’s face came into focus. So did another.
“Arthur?!”
The prince stared at him, eyes wide, shocked, and a tiny bit awed.
“God have mercy…” he breathed. “You really are a sorcerer!”
Gaius watched the situation unfold with more than a little trepidation. He had led Arthur to the small market square in order to avoid passing one of the quarantine guard posts, only to stop dead when he’d caught sight of that familiar mop of dark hair, bent over a child who couldn’t have reached double digits yet. For a second he’d contemplated ushering Arthur in a different direction… but even as he’d posed the question the prince had pushed past him, eyes as wide as they were now.
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you,” Merlin was saying earnestly. “Really, I am.”
Arthur was silent. He looked around at the six thin, grubby faces; at the young lad that still lay, resting, under his hands. Then, “I’m sorry, too,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry that you lied to me.” Arthur took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry you had to lie to me.”
Merlin stared. “You… I… You’re not going to arrest me? I thought- you found my book, and…”
“If I was going to arrest you I’d have let my father do it in Council this morning, you idiot,” Arthur pointed out bemusedly.
“But- I have magic, Arthur!”
“I can see that!”
“It’s against the law!”
“I think I know what’s against the law and what isn’t, Merlin!” Arthur said sharply. He sighed. A part of his mind screamed at him to stop, to leave before he irrevocably and irreparably broke the law he’d sword to uphold. He pushed it down.
“Look… The fact is… You can fight this illness. You can help save the lives of my people… And that’s more than I can do, God help me,” he added bitterly.
“So… you’re not going to execute me?” Merlin repeated.
“No, Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed exasperatedly. “Honestly, does anything I say penetrate that thick skull of yours?”
“Hey!”
There was a moment of awkward, anti-climactic silence. Then, “You know what the best part of this is?” Merlin said, grinning.
Arthur rolled his eyes expectantly. “What, Merlin?”
“You can’t say I didn’t tell you! I did - right in front of the king!”
Arthur couldn’t help himself. He tipped back his head and laughed.
For the first time in many hours, Merlin allowed himself to relax. Relief coursed through his veins, leaving him feeling weightless. Everything had turned out. It was going to be alright. Gods.
Eventually, though, the laughter petered out. Arthur looked at Gaius, at Merlin, and the six, slightly bewildered, children.
“So… what happens now?”
“While Merlin is here, I would like to take a look around the water system that supplies the lower city.” Gaius smoothly ignored the deeper implications of the question. “I believe we may find some clue as to the source of the enchantment.”
Arthur eyed Merlin’s waxy complexion dubiously. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, Gaius, but are you sure? He doesn’t look so good…”
“We won’t be long,” Gaius assured him, “I just need to collect a sample. Perhaps Merlin’s magic will be able to point us in the right direction.”
“I could go with you…”
“The king expects you for the evening meal, if I’m not mistaken.”
Dammit. Gaius was right. “I still think he looks-“
“He is right here,” Merlin interrupted, glaring from his place on the floor. “And he is fine, thanks.”
“Sure you are,” Arthur said sarcastically. “You just prefer to sit on the freezing cold floor.”
Grumbling, Merlin gathered his feet beneath him and, conscious of the assessing gaze of his two companions, pushed himself to his feet, locking his knees against the expected surge of dizziness. He waited until the world rolled more or less into place and then raised his eyebrows at Arthur - There. Happy?
“Fine,” Arthur said shortly. “Let me know if you find anything, Gaius. And you-” he waved a finger at Merlin, “-meet me in my chambers when you get back - and no running away this time! We have a lot to discuss.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “I thought I was going to be arrested!” he groused. “Of course I bloody ran!”
Arthur snorted something about excuses, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Merlin called. He gestured to the children, who eyed the prince and his warlock companion with a mixture of fear, curiosity and awe. “What about… err…”
Arthur made a face. He couldn’t in good conscience leave the children on the street, but at the idea of them living in the castle made him uneasy. They’d seen Merlin perform magic, after all, and children were talkative.
“I’ll take them to Tom’s,” he decided. “They can stay there until we can get something more permanent arranged. Does that suit you?” he asked the oldest child, arching an eyebrow.
The boy, who was perhaps as tall as Arthur’s hip, shot a quick glance at his companions. “Y-yes. Sire,” he added hastily.
“See, Merlin? Even the boy knows how to address me properly.”
“Sod off,” Merlin muttered. Eyeing the darkened skies, he waved over a nearby torch and lit it with a thought.
“Merlin!” Gaius and Arthur hissed simultaneously.
“What now?”
“We are in the middle of a market square! Anyone could have seen that!”
“Oh,” Merlin said sheepishly. “Right. Sorry.”
“Lord almighty, Merlin! I wonder at how you managed to last this long!”
“Alright, alright! You've made your point!”
Arthur sighed dramatically. “Here. Give me that.” He snatched the torch up and began ushering the children from the square. “And remember - my chambers! Tonight! Or I’ll have you in the stocks for a week, sorcerer or no!”
~~~~
Merlin forced his aching legs to climb the few stairs to his room, feet dragging against the floor, and entered with a worn sigh. So much had changed since the last time he’d been here just - hell, just a few hours ago!
Arthur had come looking for him.
Arthur knew he had magic.
Arthur was not going to have him executed.
There was a creature in the water system.
Merlin let his pack drop to the floor and rolled his shoulders, wincing. Gods, but he was as sore as when he’d first learnt to ride…
What was he doing again?
Oh, right.
Arthur. Chambers. Talking.
Blinking stupidly, Merlin stumbled over to the bed and, catching sight of a (mostly) clean change of clothes under the bed, quickly dropped to his hands and knees. A surge of darkness flickered across his vision. Merlin shook his head.
Huh. Maybe he was tireder than he’d thought.
Just another hour or two, he promised himself. Then he’d blow the candles; grab a good, uninterrupted night’s rest before trying to figure out what that creature was - and how to get rid of it - in the morning.
Finally, Merlin’s questing hands found the fresh tunic and he sat back on his heels, coughing a little as his breath caught in his throat. Damn dust. Another surge of vertigo threatened to topple him; he scooted quickly backwards, propping his back against the side of the bed as his strength failed him completely. He’d just… rest here for a moment. Just… rest his eyes… only for… a second…
~~~~
Gaius sighed as he began his bedtime rituals. It had been a long night. The search of the lower town’s water system had been… unexpectedly harrowing. He would get what rest he could from the remainder of the night and begin researching the creature he’d glimpsed in the morning.
Merlin had disappeared into his room to freshen up before heading to Arthur’s chambers. Gaius hoped the prince would not keep him up too late - the lad looked quite done in. Speaking of which…
Gaius paused.
Merlin ought to have been out of his room by now.
Forcing himself not to panic, the elderly physician mounted the stairs as fast as his creaky limbs would allow. After a polite, unanswered knock, he opened the door.
~~~~
Arthur charged down to Gaius’ quarters in record time, his earlier drowsiness forgotten.
“Gaius?” he called as he entered.
“In here, sire.”
The prince barrelled through the doorway to Merlin’s room; stopped short a few paces from the bed. He swore softly. There was no denying it.
Merlin had the water sickness.
Arthur swallowed.
“How long does he have?”
“It’s difficult to say…” Gaius shifted uneasily. “A day. Perhaps less.”
“How did this even happen?” Arthur mumbled, scrubbing his face tiredly. “Merlin knew about the water. He wouldn’t have drunk it. He’s an idiot - but he’s not that stupid.”
“Merlin has been visiting the lower town wells for the past two nights, sire.” Gaius shrugged helplessly. “I can only guess he exposed himself to the illness during his attempts to lift the curse on the water supply.”
Realisation rolled over him. That would explain why Merlin had looked so drawn out for the last few days.
“Can you… can you heal him?”
Gaius shook his head, and Arthur’s heart sank.
“If we can lift the curse, it may restore his health to him. Our exploration of the lower town’s water system has given me a few ideas, but it will take time to narrow down exactly what we are dealing with.”
Arthur cast another glance in Merlin’s direction. His manservant was pallid; veins standing out stark against his almost translucent skin.
“Time… he doesn’t have time.” Arthur shook his head. Just minutes earlier he’d been pacing his room, solely occupied with worrying about whether he was making the right decision to harbour a sorcerer in his household. Now, it seemed the choice might be taken out of his hands. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“The only remedy I know of is Merlin’s magic. He cannot heal himself, sire…”
“Wait!”
The prince straightened suddenly.
Then, to Gaius’ astonishment he said, “Yes, Gaius! He can!”
( Continued)