Fic: After the Fact [Merlin | PG, gen]
Title: After the Fact
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,658 words
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Gaius
Spoilers/Warnings: SPOILERS for 4.03 The Wicked Day
Summary: "What is it?" It was rather a stupid question.
Disclaimer: Merlin is the property of the BBC and Shine. I make no claim on it and write this purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Notes: I've been turning this over in my head all week, fiddling with and reshaping it.
Arthur still wasn’t used to his new accommodations. The palace servants had been remarkably efficient in packing his father’s things into storage and transferring his own things into the King’s apartments, and under Merlin’s supervision at that. His old chambers, the ones he’d had ever since he’d been deemed too old for the nursery, now lay vacant, waiting for his own son to one day inhabit them.
His father’s… His new chambers were vaguely similar to his old ones, but Arthur still couldn’t feel comfortable residing in the room where his father had spent his final moments. Though he knew that such things were ridiculous, Arthur couldn’t help but feel his father’s eyes on him, watching, judging.
He was alone, Merlin having retired to Gaius’ chambers. Arthur had been meaning to show him the small room off of his own bedchamber, reserved for the king’s manservant, but had yet to remember to do so. He knew Merlin had preferred to stay with Gaius in the past. Still, it was one thing to double as the Crown Prince’s manservant and the royal physician’s apprentice, and something else entirely to be the king’s personal servant. Merlin’s duties were going to grow eventually, and there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day for him to fulfill both positions.
For all that, though, Arthur was glad that Merlin wasn’t here at this moment. After the conversation he’d just had, Arthur was grateful to have some time to himself.
“What is it?” It was a rather stupid question, Arthur thought immediately after he’d spoken. It was obvious what the object that Gaius had laid down on the table was.
The royal physician was used to such questions, it seemed. Gaius didn’t even blink when he replied, “The pendent is enchanted, Sire. I found it on your father after…”
After he died. Thankfully, Gaius didn’t say it out loud. Arthur still cringed every time he heard it. Forcing himself to focus, he continued gazing at the necklace in front of him. “Where did it come from? My father wouldn’t wear an enchanted piece of jewelry.” Or any piece of jewelry, for that matter.
Gaius nodded. “I do not know where it came from, Your Majesty.” He paused, visibly hesitating, and then asked quietly, “Did the old man…?”
Arthur blinked. No one had dared to so much as mention the old sorcerer who had managed to vanish from within Camelot, despite all of the guards and knights combing the corridors for him. Thinking back to those harried minutes in his father’s chambers, he tried to recall if the old man had placed anything on his father’s person. Finally, he shook his head. “No. All he did was use certain herbs and incantations. He was never alone with Father to put something like this on him.” He swallowed. “What does it do?”
Gaius sighed wearily, seeming to age right before him. “The enchantments on it are such that they will reverse the intent of any spells upon the person who wears.” He shifted, touching the necklace lightly. “In centuries past, a general or leader might wear it in times of war, so that should any enemy sorcerer attempt to assassinate him with magic, he would remain unharmed.”
Arthur felt something cold and heavy shift in his stomach as his mind raced. The old man had claimed to be using healing spells on his father, and yet his father had died seconds after those spells had been performed.
“You mean that the old man really was trying to heal my father,” he stated flatly.
It wasn’t a question, but Gaius still nodded. “That would bear out your descriptions of what happened, Sire. If he really had been trying to use magic to kill the k… late king, Uther would likely have been on his feet within moments.”
Arthur breathed out, expelling all of the air from his lungs. He had put a price out on the old man’s head within hours of his father’s death, had sent a company of knights to the shack where the sorcerer had been living to bring him back to Camelot, dead or alive.
He had laid out a death sentence on a man who had been trying to help him.
With some difficulty, Arthur strove to breathe again. Finally, he asked Gaius, “Have you ascertained where it came from?”
The physician looked at him. “Such objects are difficult to enchant, Sire, which is why they were never widely used. There are few sorcerers left who have the power to create them. There is one, though, who has the talent and a well-known desire to see your father dead.”
It wasn’t difficult to understand who Gaius meant. “Morgana.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“But how?” he demanded. “She would never have been able to slip into Camelot and into my father’s chambers without being spotted. Gwen was almost always with my father, and he always had a number of guards surrounding his chambers.” He shook his head. “No, she would have been seen.”
“That’s true,” Gaius agreed. “The only other way that I can discern would be that she had help, that she gave it to someone else and had that person place it around your father’s neck.”
Arthur’s fist clenched. That would mean that, yet again, there was a spy within Camelot. Few people had had access to his father in his final days, and anyone other than those few would have been turned away by the guards. That would limit any search for the traitor.
“I will investigate this quietly, Gaius,” he finally said. “Tell no one of what you’ve told me, not even Merlin.” To most, Gaius’ expression didn’t even flicker, but Arthur had known the old man his entire life. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur studied him. “Merlin already knows.”
“Yes, Sire.” Any other man would have adopted a sheepish expression, but Gaius was as matter-of-fact as always. Unashamed.
Well, that shouldn’t really surprise him. Merlin and Gaius tended to tell each other things before they told anyone else, even their sovereigns. Arthur couldn’t entirely dismiss it as something bad either. Having Merlin aware of the situation would give him someone to assist in the investigation. Merlin was in a position to hear things that were said when Arthur himself wasn’t present. That might prove useful.
“Very well then,” he conceded. “Make sure Merlin knows to keep his mouth shut.”
Gaius bowed. “Of course, Sire. I’m sure Merlin will know to stay quiet.”
Arthur snorted skeptically, but nodded and waved the old man a dismissal. The physician turned to leave, but just before he slipped through the door, Arthur thought of something.
“Gaius.”
He turned back. “Yes, my lord?”
“The next time something happens that I need to know about,” he said, his voice taking on a stern quality, “you are to inform me immediately, no matter what is going on or how little I might want to hear it.”
Gaius appeared troubled, but he bowed again. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
It was a fine mess Arthur was in. He had a spy in his court, and knew that the only ones he could trust with that knowledge beyond himself were an old man and an idiot. He wouldn’t bring Gwen into this; Morgana had tried to harm her too many times. The less she knew the better. It was too risky to tell anyone else either. Arthur didn’t want to suspect his knights or the others of his inner circle, but those people were the only ones who had had access to his father.
One of them was a traitor, had aided in the murder of the king.
There was also the subject of magic. Morgana had used magic to kill the king, her own father, but the old man had sought to use magic to do the exact opposite. He’d tried to heal a man responsible for the slaughter of hundreds, if not thousands, of his brethren, and had done so only on Arthur’s word that things would be different once he was king.
The old man had failed, though, even if it was through no fault of his own. Now his father was dead and Arthur was king.
He couldn’t make magic legal in Camelot, not while there were those who would abuse it, such as Morgana and others like her. To give sorcerers free reign would only invite a return to the chaos that had engulfed much of Albion in the past century, and Camelot in particular. To give them free rein would only incite the enemies of the kingdom to rain down terror and death. That had been why magic had been outlawed in the first place.
Still, thinking on it, his father’s edict of making magic punishable by immediate execution had hardly solved the problem. Camelot was almost constantly beset by sorcerers, seeking to avenge the people they had lost to the purges or to just kill the Pendragons in the hope of ending the slaughter. Innocent people were caught up in the web of paranoia, people like Gwen’s father, or people who had unknowingly given a sorcerer shelter or assistance. His father had written them off as collateral damage in the war on magic, but Arthur had always thought of such losses as unacceptable.
Surely there was some kind of middle ground?
Arthur rubbed his eyes wearily. It was quite late now. The fire was even growing dim in the fireplace. He would have plenty to do tomorrow, and staying up late debating the laws on magic would do him no favors when he was listening to the council complain about taxes levied on the nobles, or listening to petitions from the common people.
Magic was a topic for another time, a time in the future. It would require considerable thought before Arthur could even consider broaching the topic with someone else.
It would have to be a subject kept in his own thoughts.
Author: angelqueen04
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,658 words
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Gaius
Spoilers/Warnings: SPOILERS for 4.03 The Wicked Day
Summary: "What is it?" It was rather a stupid question.
Disclaimer: Merlin is the property of the BBC and Shine. I make no claim on it and write this purely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.
Author's Notes: I've been turning this over in my head all week, fiddling with and reshaping it.
Arthur still wasn’t used to his new accommodations. The palace servants had been remarkably efficient in packing his father’s things into storage and transferring his own things into the King’s apartments, and under Merlin’s supervision at that. His old chambers, the ones he’d had ever since he’d been deemed too old for the nursery, now lay vacant, waiting for his own son to one day inhabit them.
His father’s… His new chambers were vaguely similar to his old ones, but Arthur still couldn’t feel comfortable residing in the room where his father had spent his final moments. Though he knew that such things were ridiculous, Arthur couldn’t help but feel his father’s eyes on him, watching, judging.
He was alone, Merlin having retired to Gaius’ chambers. Arthur had been meaning to show him the small room off of his own bedchamber, reserved for the king’s manservant, but had yet to remember to do so. He knew Merlin had preferred to stay with Gaius in the past. Still, it was one thing to double as the Crown Prince’s manservant and the royal physician’s apprentice, and something else entirely to be the king’s personal servant. Merlin’s duties were going to grow eventually, and there wouldn’t be enough hours in the day for him to fulfill both positions.
For all that, though, Arthur was glad that Merlin wasn’t here at this moment. After the conversation he’d just had, Arthur was grateful to have some time to himself.
“What is it?” It was a rather stupid question, Arthur thought immediately after he’d spoken. It was obvious what the object that Gaius had laid down on the table was.
The royal physician was used to such questions, it seemed. Gaius didn’t even blink when he replied, “The pendent is enchanted, Sire. I found it on your father after…”
After he died. Thankfully, Gaius didn’t say it out loud. Arthur still cringed every time he heard it. Forcing himself to focus, he continued gazing at the necklace in front of him. “Where did it come from? My father wouldn’t wear an enchanted piece of jewelry.” Or any piece of jewelry, for that matter.
Gaius nodded. “I do not know where it came from, Your Majesty.” He paused, visibly hesitating, and then asked quietly, “Did the old man…?”
Arthur blinked. No one had dared to so much as mention the old sorcerer who had managed to vanish from within Camelot, despite all of the guards and knights combing the corridors for him. Thinking back to those harried minutes in his father’s chambers, he tried to recall if the old man had placed anything on his father’s person. Finally, he shook his head. “No. All he did was use certain herbs and incantations. He was never alone with Father to put something like this on him.” He swallowed. “What does it do?”
Gaius sighed wearily, seeming to age right before him. “The enchantments on it are such that they will reverse the intent of any spells upon the person who wears.” He shifted, touching the necklace lightly. “In centuries past, a general or leader might wear it in times of war, so that should any enemy sorcerer attempt to assassinate him with magic, he would remain unharmed.”
Arthur felt something cold and heavy shift in his stomach as his mind raced. The old man had claimed to be using healing spells on his father, and yet his father had died seconds after those spells had been performed.
“You mean that the old man really was trying to heal my father,” he stated flatly.
It wasn’t a question, but Gaius still nodded. “That would bear out your descriptions of what happened, Sire. If he really had been trying to use magic to kill the k… late king, Uther would likely have been on his feet within moments.”
Arthur breathed out, expelling all of the air from his lungs. He had put a price out on the old man’s head within hours of his father’s death, had sent a company of knights to the shack where the sorcerer had been living to bring him back to Camelot, dead or alive.
He had laid out a death sentence on a man who had been trying to help him.
With some difficulty, Arthur strove to breathe again. Finally, he asked Gaius, “Have you ascertained where it came from?”
The physician looked at him. “Such objects are difficult to enchant, Sire, which is why they were never widely used. There are few sorcerers left who have the power to create them. There is one, though, who has the talent and a well-known desire to see your father dead.”
It wasn’t difficult to understand who Gaius meant. “Morgana.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“But how?” he demanded. “She would never have been able to slip into Camelot and into my father’s chambers without being spotted. Gwen was almost always with my father, and he always had a number of guards surrounding his chambers.” He shook his head. “No, she would have been seen.”
“That’s true,” Gaius agreed. “The only other way that I can discern would be that she had help, that she gave it to someone else and had that person place it around your father’s neck.”
Arthur’s fist clenched. That would mean that, yet again, there was a spy within Camelot. Few people had had access to his father in his final days, and anyone other than those few would have been turned away by the guards. That would limit any search for the traitor.
“I will investigate this quietly, Gaius,” he finally said. “Tell no one of what you’ve told me, not even Merlin.” To most, Gaius’ expression didn’t even flicker, but Arthur had known the old man his entire life. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur studied him. “Merlin already knows.”
“Yes, Sire.” Any other man would have adopted a sheepish expression, but Gaius was as matter-of-fact as always. Unashamed.
Well, that shouldn’t really surprise him. Merlin and Gaius tended to tell each other things before they told anyone else, even their sovereigns. Arthur couldn’t entirely dismiss it as something bad either. Having Merlin aware of the situation would give him someone to assist in the investigation. Merlin was in a position to hear things that were said when Arthur himself wasn’t present. That might prove useful.
“Very well then,” he conceded. “Make sure Merlin knows to keep his mouth shut.”
Gaius bowed. “Of course, Sire. I’m sure Merlin will know to stay quiet.”
Arthur snorted skeptically, but nodded and waved the old man a dismissal. The physician turned to leave, but just before he slipped through the door, Arthur thought of something.
“Gaius.”
He turned back. “Yes, my lord?”
“The next time something happens that I need to know about,” he said, his voice taking on a stern quality, “you are to inform me immediately, no matter what is going on or how little I might want to hear it.”
Gaius appeared troubled, but he bowed again. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
It was a fine mess Arthur was in. He had a spy in his court, and knew that the only ones he could trust with that knowledge beyond himself were an old man and an idiot. He wouldn’t bring Gwen into this; Morgana had tried to harm her too many times. The less she knew the better. It was too risky to tell anyone else either. Arthur didn’t want to suspect his knights or the others of his inner circle, but those people were the only ones who had had access to his father.
One of them was a traitor, had aided in the murder of the king.
There was also the subject of magic. Morgana had used magic to kill the king, her own father, but the old man had sought to use magic to do the exact opposite. He’d tried to heal a man responsible for the slaughter of hundreds, if not thousands, of his brethren, and had done so only on Arthur’s word that things would be different once he was king.
The old man had failed, though, even if it was through no fault of his own. Now his father was dead and Arthur was king.
He couldn’t make magic legal in Camelot, not while there were those who would abuse it, such as Morgana and others like her. To give sorcerers free reign would only invite a return to the chaos that had engulfed much of Albion in the past century, and Camelot in particular. To give them free rein would only incite the enemies of the kingdom to rain down terror and death. That had been why magic had been outlawed in the first place.
Still, thinking on it, his father’s edict of making magic punishable by immediate execution had hardly solved the problem. Camelot was almost constantly beset by sorcerers, seeking to avenge the people they had lost to the purges or to just kill the Pendragons in the hope of ending the slaughter. Innocent people were caught up in the web of paranoia, people like Gwen’s father, or people who had unknowingly given a sorcerer shelter or assistance. His father had written them off as collateral damage in the war on magic, but Arthur had always thought of such losses as unacceptable.
Surely there was some kind of middle ground?
Arthur rubbed his eyes wearily. It was quite late now. The fire was even growing dim in the fireplace. He would have plenty to do tomorrow, and staying up late debating the laws on magic would do him no favors when he was listening to the council complain about taxes levied on the nobles, or listening to petitions from the common people.
Magic was a topic for another time, a time in the future. It would require considerable thought before Arthur could even consider broaching the topic with someone else.
It would have to be a subject kept in his own thoughts.