Merlin fic: Para Bellum 7/7
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.
VII.
Celebration banners already dotted the villages they passed on their way back to the citadel, and Arthur took a moment to marvel how swiftly news traveled, even though he had sent only a few messengers to deliver the news. Camelot's citizens met the long caravan with food and drink, and fresh horses to trade. They took the injured in when they could ride no more, and Arthur's love for his people swelled until he was sure his heart would burst.
All he could think of was a hot bath, and the bit of unfinished business Leon's top patrol was handling. Beside him, Merlin prattled on about things Arthur did not care one whit about, and the utter familiarity of it slotted the world back into place, which was certainly Merlin's intent.
Arthur determined that he would have to kiss Merlin quite a lot that evening, and in between, Merlin could give him the shortened version of his tales.
From time to time, Arthur pressed his hand to his ribs, where his mind said a fatal wound should be, but only a deep ache remained. Gaius had said that his body was still adjusting internally, healing itself in minor ways. He could taste the lingering tickle of magic in his body, like the smell of rain on a cloudy day; it was a constant reminder that he would not be alive, were it not for the willingness of the Sidhe to intervene. He had accepted the inevitability of death in those moments when Merlin held him tight. Leaving Merlin had been his only regret, when Merlin's hand was in his and the world was darkening around him.
His father would have said his priorities were all wrong, that he should have been focused on who would lead, instead of all the sunlit kisses he would miss. But Arthur understood now that it was all one and the same. Merlin would have been a reluctant king, but a fine one, and his heart was at ease for that knowledge.
Somehow, he would have to bring Merlin to the same conclusion.
They parted ways with the Sidhe at a fork in the road near Caerleon's borders, and Maura pulled her horse alongside Arthur's. "Farewell, Once and Future King," she said. As always, the way she said it made Arthur's skin crawl, but he could not deny her forces had helped turn the tide.
"Thank you, Lady Maura, for all you have done for me and for Camelot. I am deeply in your debt."
She scrutinized him, as if he were some sort of strangely shaped fruit she planned to devour. "Nothing has gone quite as I expected, Arthur Pendragon. But we are allies now, and you may call upon us in any hour of need." Her piercing gaze shifted to Merlin. "Be well, Emrys, and remember that just as streams find their way to the river, so the threads of prophecy find a way to weave together."
"Er, I'll remember," Merlin said, staring after her as she rode away.
"Whatever is it that makes those with magic so damned cryptic?" Arthur asked.
"No idea," Merlin said. "But I'm rather used to it by now."
The citadel was ready to receive them, but their arrival only lengthened the list of duties and tasks Arthur must perform before he could have a moment's rest. He held a short audience with Iseldir to thank him for his help, and another with Alator, who delivered a lengthy debrief on the state of the Catha post-battle. Even Merlin was drooping a bit by the time he had finished. The ambassadors from Camelot's allies lined up to receive gifts and thanks from the king, and were well-supplied for their journeys home. Leon detailed the casualties and the state of their army, and discussed the many ways they had secured the border behind them as they withdrew from the north.
Leon also gave him welcome news. "We've had word, sire, that King Lot has been taken alive. My men will have him here within a day."
"Excellent work, Sir Leon," Arthur said. He dismissed Leon and stood, brushing his hand through Merlin's hair, enjoying the way Merlin leaned into his touch.
When finally Arthur was scrubbed and settled down in his own bed - with the extra furs on top, to keep out the chill - it was nearly impossible for him to keep his eyes open a moment longer.
Merlin, of course, chose that moment to bang into the room, shed his clothing, and climb into bed, pressing his cold toes against Arthur's legs.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelped. He scooted to the side to avoid Merlin's feet.
"You may have been healed, but you still need rest," Merlin said, pressing him back into the bed. "And warmth," he added, as he covered Arthur's body with his own in a most enjoyable way.
Arthur glared at him, but it had little effect, particularly since Merlin was extinguishing most of the candles. His eyes had that arousing golden glow Arthur had come to associate with many of the good things in his life. Merlin snuggled up against him, grumbling as he pulled his feet away, and Arthur lifted his arm to pull Merlin close. "Better," he said, nosing into Merlin's hair, which was a bit damp and smelled of herbs.
They were quiet for a bit, until Merlin said, "Gaius is taking on Eira as an apprentice."
"Hmm," Arthur said, thinking over the list of knights who were to be named to the round table.
"And I may take on Liam. As a servant. A manservant," Merlin clarified. That got Arthur's attention.
"You're sure about that? The arrangement with Iseldir was to be temporary, you know."
"Liam won't go. He thinks he owes me some sort of debt. It's ridiculous, really, but he's stuck to me like leaves in a storm."
"Well." Arthur jostled Merlin until he was more comfortably curled into the nook of his arm. "There is something to be said for pests who refuse to leave their masters alone. You could do with a keeper. He could find you clean socks to warm your feet, for starters."
"Very funny."
All the things they hadn't discussed floated about them invisibly in the room, until Merlin said, "I had thought the day might come when I would engage armies in your name." He shifted, restless. "I was thinking about it in the wrong ways, you see. I've killed for you before - almost since we first met - but each of those moments seemed individual. Not connected to the others."
Arthur was silent. His place was to listen, and to know what was in Merlin's heart.
"But it was all connected, really. You were at the heart of it. I told you, all of that was nothing compared to what I would do now, and it was true." Merlin buried his face in the safe haven of Arthur's chest, and mumbled, "Hundreds of men, Arthur. And I regret none of it. Not even Mordred."
"I don't believe that," Arthur said quietly. "Even I regret the killing that must be done to preserve the peace."
"If it saves your life, how can I regret it?" Merlin lifted his head, and tears shone in his eyes, which burned with a fierce love which still took Arthur's breath away. "I would kill them all again, and thousands more besides, and...and..." Tears spilled, and Arthur caught them with his fingertips.
"You were Emrys on the battlefield," Arthur said. "Feared sorcerer, protecting his king. Here, you are just Merlin." He kissed Merlin gently, tasting salt on his lips. "Here, you can allow yourself to grieve for the things that are necessary."
"I can't afford to grieve," Merlin said, putting his head down again. "Or I might never stop, and then I'm no use to you."
There was nothing to say to that, nothing that would not contradict the vastness of Merlin's tender heart, so Arthur did not try.
Quiet settled over them like a soft blanket. Eventually Merlin sighed and said, "Soon I will need to see to Aithusa. There are so many things unexplained, Arthur. Where she's been...why she isn't growing as a normal dragon should. Will you allow her here, in the citadel, so I may build trust with her?"
"Yes." Arthur could feel sleep pulling at him. "Do your duty, dragon lord."
He thought he heard Merlin say, my most beloved dragon, but later, he was sure it was part of his exhausted dreams.
**
In the morning, Arthur held a full court, all of the kingdom's nobles and many of their guests in attendance. He sat on the throne, Merlin at his right hand, and received Queen Mithian. She wore a black gown without adornment of any kind, and she approached the throne calmly, without any hint of fear.
"Sire," Mithian said. As the assembled crowd gasped, she sank to her knees and touched her head to the floor. When she raised her face to Arthur, she was calm, her demeanor every inch a queen. "I have come to beg mercy for Lot's kingdom, and for the people I am charged with protecting. The people are innocent of his crimes." She shifted on the cold stone, folding her hands over her skirts. "What was done to Lord Merlin was unconscionable, and unforgiveable. The attack on your own kingdom and the deaths of so many of your knights may be a predictable part of the give and take of war, but I offer you my humble apologies on behalf of my people."
Arthur felt a surge of quiet respect for her. She had no right to expect leniency, and yet she was the queen her people deserved. She straightened her back and looked him in the eye. "I knew nothing of these plans, but as Lot's wife I will submit myself to your judgment nonetheless. I ask only that you spare my people. Take Lot's lands for your own and give them a proper king."
She lowered her head again in silence. Arthur let a few moments pass while he considered her words. It had always been his plan to annex Lot's kingdom. He held Mithian blameless, and knew full well she would never have condoned or participated in any attack on Camelot.
It was time Lot's kingdom had a proper ruler; that much was true.
He nodded to Leon, who gave Mithian his hand and helped her to stand. Arthur regarded her a moment, then said, "I will take your plea into consideration. I must ask that you remain here while I try your husband for his crimes."
"I will bear witness," she said, her fingers tightening on Leon's arm.
"Bring him in," Arthur ordered.
The doors swung open, and four guards marched forward, Lot between them bound in ropes. He looked around the room like a trapped animal, head jerking back and forth, until he caught sight of Gwaine. His lip curled in a sneer, and he spat on the ground as he passed; Arthur could see in the tension of Gwaine's body that it cost him dearly to stand still and endure such treatment. The apple had fallen far from the tree, for which Arthur was grateful.
Lot's head swiveled to the front of the room, and he shouted, "Arthur Pendragon! I don't recognize your authority to try me."
"On your knees," Arthur said, voice level, despite the deep anger the mere sight of Lot evoked. The guards shoved him down, and Lot winced as his knees cracked into the stone. Arthur rose from his chair and paced a slow circle around Lot, who had fixated on Merlin the very moment Arthur was out of his range.
"Lot. You stand accused of kidnapping Camelot's court sorcerer, and holding him against his will. Further, you threatened harm to him, and by your actions, were directly responsible for the deaths of many while Camelot was under attack from your forces." Arthur completed his circuit around Lot, and stopped before him. "What is your answer to these charges?"
"My answer?" Lot spat on the ground again. "I should have fucked your esteemed court sorcerer while I had the chance."
It was only after, when Merlin's hands were on Arthur's shoulders and Merlin's quiet voice was urgent in his ear, that Arthur realized he had moved, and the tip of his small dagger was pressed deep into Lot's throat. Blood trickled down from the shallow cut, and Lot's shallow gasps gusted against Arthur's face, foul and desperate. But in Lot's eyes, there was a gleam of victory, one small triumph in making the king lose control.
Arthur eased back his arm, just enough to stop cutting into the skin, and said softly, "I made you a promise when last you threatened Merlin, and now you'll see it fulfilled." He moved back, Merlin an anxious bird hovering at his side, until Arthur sheathed the dagger again. Raising his voice, he said, "Very well. Lot, your lands and your titles are forfeit to me, until such time as I see fit to disburse them. Under the authority vested in me, you are condemned to die by execution, in the time and place of my choosing. That time and place is now. Sir Leon -- provide this man with a weapon."
Leon quickly divested one of the newer knights of his sword - one which would not be perfectly honed, but would be serviceable. He threw the sword on the floor within reach of Lot's hand, and then stepped behind their prisoner to cut his bonds.
Arthur drew his own sword, then pointed at the weapon on the floor. "Pick it up."
"Whelp," Lot said, scooping up the sword. "I was leading armies and killing men when you were still in your britches."
"Oh yes." Arthur swung his sword, readying it for the brief contest to come, even as he assessed Lot's practiced ease and battle stance. "I'm sure the fact that you did not lead your army against me was proof of your courage and skill."
"See for yourself," Lot answered, his sneering grin one Arthur could not wait to eradicate. He lunged, and Arthur parried the blow with ease, knocking his sword aside.
In the way Lot moved, there was a ghost of a man who once had formidable skills. Arthur could see it, and he also saw the remnants of skills now practiced by Gwaine in combat - graceful arcing attacks, and skillful defense. But he was not a young man, and he had grown soft, allowing his forces to kill and maim while he displayed the heads of enemies on his fortress walls. It was all just for show now, and Lot tired quickly, his blows losing strength as Arthur pressed attack. Still, Arthur drew it out, toying with him a while; it was a death earned, and Arthur would see the lesson learned.
When finally Lot staggered back and fell, his sword clattering away, Arthur lunged forward and pressed one knee to his chest. A clean thrust through, and Lot's smile slackened, his eyes growing dim. There were so few deaths Arthur had been responsible for that he'd not had cause to regret, but this was one. He watched until the light was gone from Lot's eyes, and then stood, wiping his sword on Lot's tunic.
When he looked up, he saw Gwaine standing in the shadows at the side of the room, no expression on his face. If he mourned his father, Arthur did not see any sign of it.
"Queen Mithian," Arthur said, stepping over the body. She came from the crowd to kneel again at his feet. "Take your husband's body home and bury it, and then turn your attention to your people." Her eyes widened, and Arthur gave her a tiny smile. "I entrust the lands formerly known as Lot's Kingdom to you, to rule in my stead." He stepped close, so he would not be overheard, and added, "When the time comes to choose a proper king, my lady, choose more wisely next time."
"Arthur, I'm so sorry," she said, tears falling freely now.
"None of that," Arthur said. "There is business to be done. I trust you can see to it?"
"I can, my lord." She raised her head, giving him a grateful smile. "There is, however, the matter of Lot's sons."
"Their claim is forfeit, with the severing of Lot's possession of his lands. Lot's time is at an end; a new era is begun."
"Thank you, sire," Mithian said.
Leon gestured to the guard, and they dragged Lot's body from the room. When Arthur met Merlin's eyes, he was satisfied with the quiet acceptance he saw there.
The business of the day progressed, as court was already in session, and Arthur saw no reason he should not take care of the accumulated business at hand. There were pleas to the throne for leniency, taxes to dispense with, and all the mundane business of ruling Arthur had grown to both love and despise.
Leon provided the morning's most official pronouncement, unrolling a ponderous scroll and reading out in ringing tones. "Queen Annis, ruler of Caerleon, Governor of the Evening Isles and the White Mountains, sets forth that Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, Lord of the lands formerly belonging to Lot, has acquitted himself well on behalf of these united kingdoms of Albion. Be it known therefore that Queen Annis proposes King Arthur Pendragon be henceforth regarded as High King of Albion."
Gasps and cheers went up in the hall, and Arthur turned a bemused look on Merlin, who was beaming with something suspiciously like pride.
"Sir Leon, send a messenger to thank Queen Annis for her kind proposal, but tell her-"
"Arthur," Merlin said. Nothing more, just that one word.
Arthur sighed.
"Tell her that if it is the will of each kingdom, then I will happily discuss the matter with my allies at a time and place of their choosing."
"Very good, sire." Leon bowed, and handed the scroll to Geoffrey.
Merlin continued to beam behind Arthur. Arthur couldn't see him, but he could feel it, as clearly as if he'd turned his face up to the summer sun.
At the end of the hall, the doors flew open, and Elyan strode forward. The urgency in his gait brought Arthur out of his chair. "What is it?" he asked.
"The Lady Morgana," Elyan said. "Sire, we apprehended her at the eastern gates. She was just...standing there."
"No," Merlin said, drawing up beside Arthur. "Why is she here? Why now, after such a battle?"
"There is only one way to find out," Arthur said, exchanging a look with Merlin. "Bring her forward."
A moment later, five guards escorted Morgana in. She wore no cloak, no hood to hide her identity. Instead she was clad in a simple black frock, and her heels clicked on the floor as she approached. The grey shackles on her wrists were an ugly contrast to her regal posture. All around the room, courtiers and advisors shrank back as she passed. Knights murmured to one another, their hands at their weapons.
When she stopped before Arthur, she smiled. "Brother dear," she said. "How good of you to see me."
"An interesting way to put it," Arthur said. "Given that we took you into custody."
"Not quite," Morgana said. She lifted her wrists, and the shackles on her wrists began to glow white-hot, like iron still on a forge. Even as they disintegrated into the air, Merlin placed himself in front of Arthur, one hand behind him on Arthur's arm. Arthur's knights stepped forward, swords drawn; Arthur barely had time to gesture them to a halt before Morgana lifted her chin, arms outstretched to the sides, and her eyes glowed gold.
All the knights skidded backwards, teetering into each other as they lost their balance. Even as the golden glow faded, Arthur marveled that he had become accustomed to seeing the same magic in Merlin's eyes. It had the sense of the familiar to him, and no longer seemed something to fear. Even in Morgana.
She could have injured his knights, if she chose, even killed them to prove a point, but she had not. Whether out of fear of Merlin's power, or some other reason, Arthur had no true sense of her purpose. Curiosity had the better of him, though Merlin vibrated with menace in her presence.
"A little breathing space, if you please," Morgana said, lowering her arms.
Merlin twitched toward her, but Arthur caught his shoulder, and Merlin stopped mid-motion. Morgana did not fail to see the exchange between them. "There's no need for theatrics. I was not apprehended; I came for this audience," she said. "After all, your king has offered me terms of truce." She met Merlin's eyes. "Remember your vow to me."
After a long, long moment, Merlin stepped back, but only to return to Arthur's side, closer than his shadow.
Arthur and Morgana regarded each other in silence. Arthur took in Morgana's hollowed cheeks, the sunken set of her eyes; hardship had clearly been upon her, quite recently. It was no more than she deserved, but there was no pleasure in the thought. He paused, thinking of those days when she had first come to court, beautiful and full of laughter. Memories of those days were filled with a bittersweet joy; she had grown from a coltish girl into a brave, independent woman. She had never been shy with her opinions, and he had learned much from her courage in standing up to his - their - father. The wistful, foolish youth he had been had once dreamed of a day when their ideas - both his, and Morgana's - might bear fruit in Camelot.
The battle-hardened king he had become wondered if it might not be best to kill his sister this instant, and put an end to all her treachery.
Ruthless, he squashed that thought, because he still had his honor above all else.
Her gaze flicked to the sword at his side, and then back to his face. Defiance shone in her eyes.
"Why are you here, Morgana?" Merlin was inching forward again.
"I have come to discuss the terms of truce," Morgana said, ever direct.
"Your timing is interesting," Arthur answered. He weighed his instinct to give her the benefit of the doubt with his better judgment; even when they were young, she had been skilled at deceiving him. Now, it was impossible to tell what schemes she may have in mind. She had lived within the citadel walls for over a year while plotting to kill him, and he had never seen any sign of it. He could not trust his instincts fully where his sister was concerned. "This wouldn't have anything to do with our defeat of Mordred's forces, would it?"
"On the contrary. I wanted to see him dead, and now he is dead. In some ways, I owe you a debt." She produced a scroll from her sleeve. "I have written a counter-proposal -- one you would do well to consider, if you still want peace."
"What is your price?" Merlin said. Arthur turned a fierce look upon him, willing him to silence.
Morgana's gaze shifted to Merlin. "Free passage within Camelot and the citadel. I also demand a seat on the king's council so that I may give voice to the concerns of those who practice the Old Religion. Emrys does not speak for them all."
Arthur ignored Merlin's noise of skeptical distress as he considered his options. Morgana had caused so much damage, killed so many, and he owed her a debt of pain. But even after all these years - even after Uther's slow death of a broken heart, and all the suffering she had caused in the meantime - he still could not find it in himself to hate her. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, and in his talks with Alator and Iseldir, he had come to understand how much sway she had with magic-users, even if he personally believed power born of fear was not to be respected. If he gave her a seat, and a voice in matters of the kingdom, it might go far toward uniting his people.
When he turned to Merlin to ask his opinion, Merlin had a hand at his throat, face pale as the moon, and was staring at Morgana. "Merlin?" Arthur stood, as Merlin frowned with frustration. "Are you all right?"
"He would like to object, but unfortunately, his oath to me prevents it," Morgana said. "He is perfectly fine." She turned her gaze on Merlin. "Did you know that the Cailleach once told me your destiny was linked with mine, Emrys? Once, long ago, I dreamed of it." Her icy smile sent a shiver up Arthur's spine. "Now that Mordred is dead, the path is clear for a different outcome than I foresaw. I welcome that. As should you."
Anger blazed in Merlin's eyes, but he stopped trying to speak, and the color came back into his face.
Arthur asked again, "All right?"
"Fine," Merlin said, through gritted teeth. He glared at Morgana, who met his anger with a shrug.
"You wouldn't let me speak, otherwise," she said, turning the parchment over in her hands with a small smile.
Arthur sat back down on the throne. "I will need time to consider your terms, Morgana. Trust is a thing earned, not given without cause."
"Do keep in mind I could have killed Emrys where he stood when he was helpless to stop me," Morgana said, her fingers clenching around the scroll. "He lives because I wish it."
"You are not advancing your cause by threatening Merlin," Arthur said quietly. "As for the truce - I will consider what you have said. You'll have my answer in due course."
"Of course. Dearest brother." She smiled again, and her smile reminded him of the way she'd shown her teeth when they practiced with swords as children; it was always a precursor to some trick move she'd begged an experienced knight to teach her. Half of Arthur's best moves, he had learned at Morgana's hand. "You have only to summon me when you are ready to discuss it."
"And if I should decide not to accept your terms?"
Her smile deepened, but never reached her eyes. "We all make our choices," she said. She turned her cold smile on Merlin, and hissed, "Emrys." Then she wheeled on her heel, giving the guards only the briefest moment to move out of her way before she began toward the door.
Leon started forward. "Sire, should we-"
"Escort her to the gates and see that she leaves the citadel," Arthur said. "Nothing more."
"Arthur," Merlin said urgently. "There will never be a better time to-"
"We offered peace, and she has accepted," Arthur said, watching her go. "I will honor what I agreed to, if I can stomach her terms."
"Are you seriously considering it?" Merlin asked. He retrieved the scroll, holding it as if it were covered with horse dung.
"We shall see," was all Arthur said. Merlin's frustration was a palpable thing, but there were many facets to the problem, and much to think over. To reject a reasonable offer of truce after he had proposed peace was an untenable position to be in, and her terms were not onerous.
Arthur left Merlin's question unanswered as he resumed court, and throughout the rest of the day, he thought of the many ways in which kingdoms could be built or undone by the choices made by kings - falling in love, choosing war over peace, or choosing peace over justice. The truce he and Morgana could forge was a kind of prophecy, no less potent than the magical words of seers written a thousand years before Arthur was born. It would shape the course of events yet to come.
Merlin carried the parchment with him to council, on rounds to see the injured, and finally into Arthur's bedchamber. Arthur caught him sneaking furtive glances at it by the light of a guttering candle.
"Burn that or put it away, I don't care which," Arthur said, patting the furs in what he hoped was a most inviting way. "Just don't bring it to bed."
Merlin flapped the parchment at him, fretful, and Arthur took advantage of his own relatively quick reflexes to snatch the thing up and crumple it.
"Arthur!"
"It doesn't matter," Arthur said, dropping it over the opposite side of the bed as Merlin lifted the blankets to hunker beneath them. "I'll agree, or I won't. Either way, I doubt Morgana and I will ever come to terms for very long."
"But knowing that, why are you considering agreement?"
"Because she is my sister." Arthur settled down in the flickering candlelight with Merlin, and let his gaze wander to the open window. Outside, the clear, cold night was deepest black, and stars glittered in the narrow space Arthur could see. "And because no matter what prophecy Alator uncovers, or what treachery Morgana plots, it doesn't matter."
"It always matters," Merlin said. "Keeping you alive is a very difficult endeavor."
"So you've told me many times." Arthur smiled, as happy as he could ever remember being.
"Then why would you say it doesn't matter?"
"Because you are here," Arthur said simply. "I know all of you, your magic and your heart, and you are mine, as I am yours. That is what makes the difference."
For once, Merlin seemed to be at a loss for a smart retort. Instead, he kissed Arthur, slow and thorough, in the quiet of their warm bed. Morgana's demands lay forgotten, to be picked up and delivered to Geoffrey on the morrow.
The moon climbed high overhead, parting the darkness of the sky and casting its peaceful light through the window. Arthur nuzzled at Merlin's ear, at the nape of his neck. "If Morgana becomes an advisor, you can't be seen as equal to her, official sorcerer or not," he said. Merlin shivered at the feel of Arthur's breath on his skin. Arthur pressed closer, adding, "I have often wondered how you'd look wearing a circlet of gold set with sapphires."
"I am not going to wear a crown," Merlin said softly. "And that is final."
Arthur smiled into his hair, sleepy but content. He would be ruthless in his pursuit of this small victory, just as he had been in pursuit of victory for Camelot. There would be time to enjoy all their triumphs. Together, they would make sure of it.
~end~
Thank you for reading! :D
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.
VII.
Celebration banners already dotted the villages they passed on their way back to the citadel, and Arthur took a moment to marvel how swiftly news traveled, even though he had sent only a few messengers to deliver the news. Camelot's citizens met the long caravan with food and drink, and fresh horses to trade. They took the injured in when they could ride no more, and Arthur's love for his people swelled until he was sure his heart would burst.
All he could think of was a hot bath, and the bit of unfinished business Leon's top patrol was handling. Beside him, Merlin prattled on about things Arthur did not care one whit about, and the utter familiarity of it slotted the world back into place, which was certainly Merlin's intent.
Arthur determined that he would have to kiss Merlin quite a lot that evening, and in between, Merlin could give him the shortened version of his tales.
From time to time, Arthur pressed his hand to his ribs, where his mind said a fatal wound should be, but only a deep ache remained. Gaius had said that his body was still adjusting internally, healing itself in minor ways. He could taste the lingering tickle of magic in his body, like the smell of rain on a cloudy day; it was a constant reminder that he would not be alive, were it not for the willingness of the Sidhe to intervene. He had accepted the inevitability of death in those moments when Merlin held him tight. Leaving Merlin had been his only regret, when Merlin's hand was in his and the world was darkening around him.
His father would have said his priorities were all wrong, that he should have been focused on who would lead, instead of all the sunlit kisses he would miss. But Arthur understood now that it was all one and the same. Merlin would have been a reluctant king, but a fine one, and his heart was at ease for that knowledge.
Somehow, he would have to bring Merlin to the same conclusion.
They parted ways with the Sidhe at a fork in the road near Caerleon's borders, and Maura pulled her horse alongside Arthur's. "Farewell, Once and Future King," she said. As always, the way she said it made Arthur's skin crawl, but he could not deny her forces had helped turn the tide.
"Thank you, Lady Maura, for all you have done for me and for Camelot. I am deeply in your debt."
She scrutinized him, as if he were some sort of strangely shaped fruit she planned to devour. "Nothing has gone quite as I expected, Arthur Pendragon. But we are allies now, and you may call upon us in any hour of need." Her piercing gaze shifted to Merlin. "Be well, Emrys, and remember that just as streams find their way to the river, so the threads of prophecy find a way to weave together."
"Er, I'll remember," Merlin said, staring after her as she rode away.
"Whatever is it that makes those with magic so damned cryptic?" Arthur asked.
"No idea," Merlin said. "But I'm rather used to it by now."
The citadel was ready to receive them, but their arrival only lengthened the list of duties and tasks Arthur must perform before he could have a moment's rest. He held a short audience with Iseldir to thank him for his help, and another with Alator, who delivered a lengthy debrief on the state of the Catha post-battle. Even Merlin was drooping a bit by the time he had finished. The ambassadors from Camelot's allies lined up to receive gifts and thanks from the king, and were well-supplied for their journeys home. Leon detailed the casualties and the state of their army, and discussed the many ways they had secured the border behind them as they withdrew from the north.
Leon also gave him welcome news. "We've had word, sire, that King Lot has been taken alive. My men will have him here within a day."
"Excellent work, Sir Leon," Arthur said. He dismissed Leon and stood, brushing his hand through Merlin's hair, enjoying the way Merlin leaned into his touch.
When finally Arthur was scrubbed and settled down in his own bed - with the extra furs on top, to keep out the chill - it was nearly impossible for him to keep his eyes open a moment longer.
Merlin, of course, chose that moment to bang into the room, shed his clothing, and climb into bed, pressing his cold toes against Arthur's legs.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelped. He scooted to the side to avoid Merlin's feet.
"You may have been healed, but you still need rest," Merlin said, pressing him back into the bed. "And warmth," he added, as he covered Arthur's body with his own in a most enjoyable way.
Arthur glared at him, but it had little effect, particularly since Merlin was extinguishing most of the candles. His eyes had that arousing golden glow Arthur had come to associate with many of the good things in his life. Merlin snuggled up against him, grumbling as he pulled his feet away, and Arthur lifted his arm to pull Merlin close. "Better," he said, nosing into Merlin's hair, which was a bit damp and smelled of herbs.
They were quiet for a bit, until Merlin said, "Gaius is taking on Eira as an apprentice."
"Hmm," Arthur said, thinking over the list of knights who were to be named to the round table.
"And I may take on Liam. As a servant. A manservant," Merlin clarified. That got Arthur's attention.
"You're sure about that? The arrangement with Iseldir was to be temporary, you know."
"Liam won't go. He thinks he owes me some sort of debt. It's ridiculous, really, but he's stuck to me like leaves in a storm."
"Well." Arthur jostled Merlin until he was more comfortably curled into the nook of his arm. "There is something to be said for pests who refuse to leave their masters alone. You could do with a keeper. He could find you clean socks to warm your feet, for starters."
"Very funny."
All the things they hadn't discussed floated about them invisibly in the room, until Merlin said, "I had thought the day might come when I would engage armies in your name." He shifted, restless. "I was thinking about it in the wrong ways, you see. I've killed for you before - almost since we first met - but each of those moments seemed individual. Not connected to the others."
Arthur was silent. His place was to listen, and to know what was in Merlin's heart.
"But it was all connected, really. You were at the heart of it. I told you, all of that was nothing compared to what I would do now, and it was true." Merlin buried his face in the safe haven of Arthur's chest, and mumbled, "Hundreds of men, Arthur. And I regret none of it. Not even Mordred."
"I don't believe that," Arthur said quietly. "Even I regret the killing that must be done to preserve the peace."
"If it saves your life, how can I regret it?" Merlin lifted his head, and tears shone in his eyes, which burned with a fierce love which still took Arthur's breath away. "I would kill them all again, and thousands more besides, and...and..." Tears spilled, and Arthur caught them with his fingertips.
"You were Emrys on the battlefield," Arthur said. "Feared sorcerer, protecting his king. Here, you are just Merlin." He kissed Merlin gently, tasting salt on his lips. "Here, you can allow yourself to grieve for the things that are necessary."
"I can't afford to grieve," Merlin said, putting his head down again. "Or I might never stop, and then I'm no use to you."
There was nothing to say to that, nothing that would not contradict the vastness of Merlin's tender heart, so Arthur did not try.
Quiet settled over them like a soft blanket. Eventually Merlin sighed and said, "Soon I will need to see to Aithusa. There are so many things unexplained, Arthur. Where she's been...why she isn't growing as a normal dragon should. Will you allow her here, in the citadel, so I may build trust with her?"
"Yes." Arthur could feel sleep pulling at him. "Do your duty, dragon lord."
He thought he heard Merlin say, my most beloved dragon, but later, he was sure it was part of his exhausted dreams.
**
In the morning, Arthur held a full court, all of the kingdom's nobles and many of their guests in attendance. He sat on the throne, Merlin at his right hand, and received Queen Mithian. She wore a black gown without adornment of any kind, and she approached the throne calmly, without any hint of fear.
"Sire," Mithian said. As the assembled crowd gasped, she sank to her knees and touched her head to the floor. When she raised her face to Arthur, she was calm, her demeanor every inch a queen. "I have come to beg mercy for Lot's kingdom, and for the people I am charged with protecting. The people are innocent of his crimes." She shifted on the cold stone, folding her hands over her skirts. "What was done to Lord Merlin was unconscionable, and unforgiveable. The attack on your own kingdom and the deaths of so many of your knights may be a predictable part of the give and take of war, but I offer you my humble apologies on behalf of my people."
Arthur felt a surge of quiet respect for her. She had no right to expect leniency, and yet she was the queen her people deserved. She straightened her back and looked him in the eye. "I knew nothing of these plans, but as Lot's wife I will submit myself to your judgment nonetheless. I ask only that you spare my people. Take Lot's lands for your own and give them a proper king."
She lowered her head again in silence. Arthur let a few moments pass while he considered her words. It had always been his plan to annex Lot's kingdom. He held Mithian blameless, and knew full well she would never have condoned or participated in any attack on Camelot.
It was time Lot's kingdom had a proper ruler; that much was true.
He nodded to Leon, who gave Mithian his hand and helped her to stand. Arthur regarded her a moment, then said, "I will take your plea into consideration. I must ask that you remain here while I try your husband for his crimes."
"I will bear witness," she said, her fingers tightening on Leon's arm.
"Bring him in," Arthur ordered.
The doors swung open, and four guards marched forward, Lot between them bound in ropes. He looked around the room like a trapped animal, head jerking back and forth, until he caught sight of Gwaine. His lip curled in a sneer, and he spat on the ground as he passed; Arthur could see in the tension of Gwaine's body that it cost him dearly to stand still and endure such treatment. The apple had fallen far from the tree, for which Arthur was grateful.
Lot's head swiveled to the front of the room, and he shouted, "Arthur Pendragon! I don't recognize your authority to try me."
"On your knees," Arthur said, voice level, despite the deep anger the mere sight of Lot evoked. The guards shoved him down, and Lot winced as his knees cracked into the stone. Arthur rose from his chair and paced a slow circle around Lot, who had fixated on Merlin the very moment Arthur was out of his range.
"Lot. You stand accused of kidnapping Camelot's court sorcerer, and holding him against his will. Further, you threatened harm to him, and by your actions, were directly responsible for the deaths of many while Camelot was under attack from your forces." Arthur completed his circuit around Lot, and stopped before him. "What is your answer to these charges?"
"My answer?" Lot spat on the ground again. "I should have fucked your esteemed court sorcerer while I had the chance."
It was only after, when Merlin's hands were on Arthur's shoulders and Merlin's quiet voice was urgent in his ear, that Arthur realized he had moved, and the tip of his small dagger was pressed deep into Lot's throat. Blood trickled down from the shallow cut, and Lot's shallow gasps gusted against Arthur's face, foul and desperate. But in Lot's eyes, there was a gleam of victory, one small triumph in making the king lose control.
Arthur eased back his arm, just enough to stop cutting into the skin, and said softly, "I made you a promise when last you threatened Merlin, and now you'll see it fulfilled." He moved back, Merlin an anxious bird hovering at his side, until Arthur sheathed the dagger again. Raising his voice, he said, "Very well. Lot, your lands and your titles are forfeit to me, until such time as I see fit to disburse them. Under the authority vested in me, you are condemned to die by execution, in the time and place of my choosing. That time and place is now. Sir Leon -- provide this man with a weapon."
Leon quickly divested one of the newer knights of his sword - one which would not be perfectly honed, but would be serviceable. He threw the sword on the floor within reach of Lot's hand, and then stepped behind their prisoner to cut his bonds.
Arthur drew his own sword, then pointed at the weapon on the floor. "Pick it up."
"Whelp," Lot said, scooping up the sword. "I was leading armies and killing men when you were still in your britches."
"Oh yes." Arthur swung his sword, readying it for the brief contest to come, even as he assessed Lot's practiced ease and battle stance. "I'm sure the fact that you did not lead your army against me was proof of your courage and skill."
"See for yourself," Lot answered, his sneering grin one Arthur could not wait to eradicate. He lunged, and Arthur parried the blow with ease, knocking his sword aside.
In the way Lot moved, there was a ghost of a man who once had formidable skills. Arthur could see it, and he also saw the remnants of skills now practiced by Gwaine in combat - graceful arcing attacks, and skillful defense. But he was not a young man, and he had grown soft, allowing his forces to kill and maim while he displayed the heads of enemies on his fortress walls. It was all just for show now, and Lot tired quickly, his blows losing strength as Arthur pressed attack. Still, Arthur drew it out, toying with him a while; it was a death earned, and Arthur would see the lesson learned.
When finally Lot staggered back and fell, his sword clattering away, Arthur lunged forward and pressed one knee to his chest. A clean thrust through, and Lot's smile slackened, his eyes growing dim. There were so few deaths Arthur had been responsible for that he'd not had cause to regret, but this was one. He watched until the light was gone from Lot's eyes, and then stood, wiping his sword on Lot's tunic.
When he looked up, he saw Gwaine standing in the shadows at the side of the room, no expression on his face. If he mourned his father, Arthur did not see any sign of it.
"Queen Mithian," Arthur said, stepping over the body. She came from the crowd to kneel again at his feet. "Take your husband's body home and bury it, and then turn your attention to your people." Her eyes widened, and Arthur gave her a tiny smile. "I entrust the lands formerly known as Lot's Kingdom to you, to rule in my stead." He stepped close, so he would not be overheard, and added, "When the time comes to choose a proper king, my lady, choose more wisely next time."
"Arthur, I'm so sorry," she said, tears falling freely now.
"None of that," Arthur said. "There is business to be done. I trust you can see to it?"
"I can, my lord." She raised her head, giving him a grateful smile. "There is, however, the matter of Lot's sons."
"Their claim is forfeit, with the severing of Lot's possession of his lands. Lot's time is at an end; a new era is begun."
"Thank you, sire," Mithian said.
Leon gestured to the guard, and they dragged Lot's body from the room. When Arthur met Merlin's eyes, he was satisfied with the quiet acceptance he saw there.
The business of the day progressed, as court was already in session, and Arthur saw no reason he should not take care of the accumulated business at hand. There were pleas to the throne for leniency, taxes to dispense with, and all the mundane business of ruling Arthur had grown to both love and despise.
Leon provided the morning's most official pronouncement, unrolling a ponderous scroll and reading out in ringing tones. "Queen Annis, ruler of Caerleon, Governor of the Evening Isles and the White Mountains, sets forth that Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, Lord of the lands formerly belonging to Lot, has acquitted himself well on behalf of these united kingdoms of Albion. Be it known therefore that Queen Annis proposes King Arthur Pendragon be henceforth regarded as High King of Albion."
Gasps and cheers went up in the hall, and Arthur turned a bemused look on Merlin, who was beaming with something suspiciously like pride.
"Sir Leon, send a messenger to thank Queen Annis for her kind proposal, but tell her-"
"Arthur," Merlin said. Nothing more, just that one word.
Arthur sighed.
"Tell her that if it is the will of each kingdom, then I will happily discuss the matter with my allies at a time and place of their choosing."
"Very good, sire." Leon bowed, and handed the scroll to Geoffrey.
Merlin continued to beam behind Arthur. Arthur couldn't see him, but he could feel it, as clearly as if he'd turned his face up to the summer sun.
At the end of the hall, the doors flew open, and Elyan strode forward. The urgency in his gait brought Arthur out of his chair. "What is it?" he asked.
"The Lady Morgana," Elyan said. "Sire, we apprehended her at the eastern gates. She was just...standing there."
"No," Merlin said, drawing up beside Arthur. "Why is she here? Why now, after such a battle?"
"There is only one way to find out," Arthur said, exchanging a look with Merlin. "Bring her forward."
A moment later, five guards escorted Morgana in. She wore no cloak, no hood to hide her identity. Instead she was clad in a simple black frock, and her heels clicked on the floor as she approached. The grey shackles on her wrists were an ugly contrast to her regal posture. All around the room, courtiers and advisors shrank back as she passed. Knights murmured to one another, their hands at their weapons.
When she stopped before Arthur, she smiled. "Brother dear," she said. "How good of you to see me."
"An interesting way to put it," Arthur said. "Given that we took you into custody."
"Not quite," Morgana said. She lifted her wrists, and the shackles on her wrists began to glow white-hot, like iron still on a forge. Even as they disintegrated into the air, Merlin placed himself in front of Arthur, one hand behind him on Arthur's arm. Arthur's knights stepped forward, swords drawn; Arthur barely had time to gesture them to a halt before Morgana lifted her chin, arms outstretched to the sides, and her eyes glowed gold.
All the knights skidded backwards, teetering into each other as they lost their balance. Even as the golden glow faded, Arthur marveled that he had become accustomed to seeing the same magic in Merlin's eyes. It had the sense of the familiar to him, and no longer seemed something to fear. Even in Morgana.
She could have injured his knights, if she chose, even killed them to prove a point, but she had not. Whether out of fear of Merlin's power, or some other reason, Arthur had no true sense of her purpose. Curiosity had the better of him, though Merlin vibrated with menace in her presence.
"A little breathing space, if you please," Morgana said, lowering her arms.
Merlin twitched toward her, but Arthur caught his shoulder, and Merlin stopped mid-motion. Morgana did not fail to see the exchange between them. "There's no need for theatrics. I was not apprehended; I came for this audience," she said. "After all, your king has offered me terms of truce." She met Merlin's eyes. "Remember your vow to me."
After a long, long moment, Merlin stepped back, but only to return to Arthur's side, closer than his shadow.
Arthur and Morgana regarded each other in silence. Arthur took in Morgana's hollowed cheeks, the sunken set of her eyes; hardship had clearly been upon her, quite recently. It was no more than she deserved, but there was no pleasure in the thought. He paused, thinking of those days when she had first come to court, beautiful and full of laughter. Memories of those days were filled with a bittersweet joy; she had grown from a coltish girl into a brave, independent woman. She had never been shy with her opinions, and he had learned much from her courage in standing up to his - their - father. The wistful, foolish youth he had been had once dreamed of a day when their ideas - both his, and Morgana's - might bear fruit in Camelot.
The battle-hardened king he had become wondered if it might not be best to kill his sister this instant, and put an end to all her treachery.
Ruthless, he squashed that thought, because he still had his honor above all else.
Her gaze flicked to the sword at his side, and then back to his face. Defiance shone in her eyes.
"Why are you here, Morgana?" Merlin was inching forward again.
"I have come to discuss the terms of truce," Morgana said, ever direct.
"Your timing is interesting," Arthur answered. He weighed his instinct to give her the benefit of the doubt with his better judgment; even when they were young, she had been skilled at deceiving him. Now, it was impossible to tell what schemes she may have in mind. She had lived within the citadel walls for over a year while plotting to kill him, and he had never seen any sign of it. He could not trust his instincts fully where his sister was concerned. "This wouldn't have anything to do with our defeat of Mordred's forces, would it?"
"On the contrary. I wanted to see him dead, and now he is dead. In some ways, I owe you a debt." She produced a scroll from her sleeve. "I have written a counter-proposal -- one you would do well to consider, if you still want peace."
"What is your price?" Merlin said. Arthur turned a fierce look upon him, willing him to silence.
Morgana's gaze shifted to Merlin. "Free passage within Camelot and the citadel. I also demand a seat on the king's council so that I may give voice to the concerns of those who practice the Old Religion. Emrys does not speak for them all."
Arthur ignored Merlin's noise of skeptical distress as he considered his options. Morgana had caused so much damage, killed so many, and he owed her a debt of pain. But even after all these years - even after Uther's slow death of a broken heart, and all the suffering she had caused in the meantime - he still could not find it in himself to hate her. She was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, and in his talks with Alator and Iseldir, he had come to understand how much sway she had with magic-users, even if he personally believed power born of fear was not to be respected. If he gave her a seat, and a voice in matters of the kingdom, it might go far toward uniting his people.
When he turned to Merlin to ask his opinion, Merlin had a hand at his throat, face pale as the moon, and was staring at Morgana. "Merlin?" Arthur stood, as Merlin frowned with frustration. "Are you all right?"
"He would like to object, but unfortunately, his oath to me prevents it," Morgana said. "He is perfectly fine." She turned her gaze on Merlin. "Did you know that the Cailleach once told me your destiny was linked with mine, Emrys? Once, long ago, I dreamed of it." Her icy smile sent a shiver up Arthur's spine. "Now that Mordred is dead, the path is clear for a different outcome than I foresaw. I welcome that. As should you."
Anger blazed in Merlin's eyes, but he stopped trying to speak, and the color came back into his face.
Arthur asked again, "All right?"
"Fine," Merlin said, through gritted teeth. He glared at Morgana, who met his anger with a shrug.
"You wouldn't let me speak, otherwise," she said, turning the parchment over in her hands with a small smile.
Arthur sat back down on the throne. "I will need time to consider your terms, Morgana. Trust is a thing earned, not given without cause."
"Do keep in mind I could have killed Emrys where he stood when he was helpless to stop me," Morgana said, her fingers clenching around the scroll. "He lives because I wish it."
"You are not advancing your cause by threatening Merlin," Arthur said quietly. "As for the truce - I will consider what you have said. You'll have my answer in due course."
"Of course. Dearest brother." She smiled again, and her smile reminded him of the way she'd shown her teeth when they practiced with swords as children; it was always a precursor to some trick move she'd begged an experienced knight to teach her. Half of Arthur's best moves, he had learned at Morgana's hand. "You have only to summon me when you are ready to discuss it."
"And if I should decide not to accept your terms?"
Her smile deepened, but never reached her eyes. "We all make our choices," she said. She turned her cold smile on Merlin, and hissed, "Emrys." Then she wheeled on her heel, giving the guards only the briefest moment to move out of her way before she began toward the door.
Leon started forward. "Sire, should we-"
"Escort her to the gates and see that she leaves the citadel," Arthur said. "Nothing more."
"Arthur," Merlin said urgently. "There will never be a better time to-"
"We offered peace, and she has accepted," Arthur said, watching her go. "I will honor what I agreed to, if I can stomach her terms."
"Are you seriously considering it?" Merlin asked. He retrieved the scroll, holding it as if it were covered with horse dung.
"We shall see," was all Arthur said. Merlin's frustration was a palpable thing, but there were many facets to the problem, and much to think over. To reject a reasonable offer of truce after he had proposed peace was an untenable position to be in, and her terms were not onerous.
Arthur left Merlin's question unanswered as he resumed court, and throughout the rest of the day, he thought of the many ways in which kingdoms could be built or undone by the choices made by kings - falling in love, choosing war over peace, or choosing peace over justice. The truce he and Morgana could forge was a kind of prophecy, no less potent than the magical words of seers written a thousand years before Arthur was born. It would shape the course of events yet to come.
Merlin carried the parchment with him to council, on rounds to see the injured, and finally into Arthur's bedchamber. Arthur caught him sneaking furtive glances at it by the light of a guttering candle.
"Burn that or put it away, I don't care which," Arthur said, patting the furs in what he hoped was a most inviting way. "Just don't bring it to bed."
Merlin flapped the parchment at him, fretful, and Arthur took advantage of his own relatively quick reflexes to snatch the thing up and crumple it.
"Arthur!"
"It doesn't matter," Arthur said, dropping it over the opposite side of the bed as Merlin lifted the blankets to hunker beneath them. "I'll agree, or I won't. Either way, I doubt Morgana and I will ever come to terms for very long."
"But knowing that, why are you considering agreement?"
"Because she is my sister." Arthur settled down in the flickering candlelight with Merlin, and let his gaze wander to the open window. Outside, the clear, cold night was deepest black, and stars glittered in the narrow space Arthur could see. "And because no matter what prophecy Alator uncovers, or what treachery Morgana plots, it doesn't matter."
"It always matters," Merlin said. "Keeping you alive is a very difficult endeavor."
"So you've told me many times." Arthur smiled, as happy as he could ever remember being.
"Then why would you say it doesn't matter?"
"Because you are here," Arthur said simply. "I know all of you, your magic and your heart, and you are mine, as I am yours. That is what makes the difference."
For once, Merlin seemed to be at a loss for a smart retort. Instead, he kissed Arthur, slow and thorough, in the quiet of their warm bed. Morgana's demands lay forgotten, to be picked up and delivered to Geoffrey on the morrow.
The moon climbed high overhead, parting the darkness of the sky and casting its peaceful light through the window. Arthur nuzzled at Merlin's ear, at the nape of his neck. "If Morgana becomes an advisor, you can't be seen as equal to her, official sorcerer or not," he said. Merlin shivered at the feel of Arthur's breath on his skin. Arthur pressed closer, adding, "I have often wondered how you'd look wearing a circlet of gold set with sapphires."
"I am not going to wear a crown," Merlin said softly. "And that is final."
Arthur smiled into his hair, sleepy but content. He would be ruthless in his pursuit of this small victory, just as he had been in pursuit of victory for Camelot. There would be time to enjoy all their triumphs. Together, they would make sure of it.
~end~
Thank you for reading! :D