MBB: The Promise Within 1/6
The Promise Within
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
~*~*~
Mornie utulie (darkness has come),
Believe and you will find your way.
Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen),
A promise lives within you now...
- Lisa Kelly, May it Be
~*~*~
“Arthur…”
“Yes, I know, Merlin. Please hold still.”
“But… Gaius… Arthur…”
“Drink this.”
Uther watched from a polite distance as the court physician pressed some strange bubbling concoction down the servant boy’s throat.
He’d argued the first night after they’d left the castle behind, encouraging the compulsion pushing Merlin forward, but he’d eventually conceded to Gaius’ logic. There were too many unanswered questions to keep pushing forward blindly without rest for all of them.
Which didn’t make it easier for the king to simply sit back and watch.
Almost a week had passed since Beltane, when he’d woken to the news that Arthur was gone. It might have been dismissed as another of Arthur’s attempts to assert some measure of self-control over his own life, but none of his clothing or armor had been missing and his horse had been patiently waiting in its stall when the knights had been sent to check.
Then there was Merlin.
He’d woken Gaius up that morning, so far gone out of his head that he couldn’t even manage to get out of the door, simply trying to push forward towards the pull that had him deep in its clutches.
Faced with fever bright eyes and the shine of burning gold magic, Uther had wanted to put the boy down then and there, had ordered it, even, but again, Gaius’ logic had won the day.
The boy was under an obvious compulsion. The only thought burning its way through his mind was Arthur, the need to follow that pull to his master overwhelming everything else.
He was their compass, the one that would lead them to the prince.
Uther could see the moment that Gaius’ potion began to take effect. The bright gold in Merlin’s eyes dimmed away to nearly a sliver and he slumped bonelessly against the older man. “Gaius?”
“It’s all right, Merlin. Just sleep. Yes, that’s a good lad.”
The servant mumbled something else, but it was incoherent and lost as the potion finally allowed his mind and body to rest. Without it, Merlin would simply continue forward, mindless and exhausted until his body collapsed on its own. Gaius waved towards the knights and one separated from the rest of the group, obediently fetching Merlin and getting him settled into his bedroll.
Gaius followed quietly, tucking the blankets around the boy and brushing dark, damp hair back, affection and worry predominate on his face.
With little else to occupy his thoughts on this journey besides worry for his son and plans of vengeance once he finally found the culprit, Uther had found himself watching the interactions of his companions more closely. He’d known to some degree that Gaius was fond of Merlin, but he’d never quite realized how deeply his friend cared for the boy. Gaius did not treat Merlin like an apprentice or even a friend. He treated Merlin like someone whose well-being meant more to him than his own.
He treated Merlin like a beloved son.
Uther knew without a doubt now that if his initial order to execute Merlin had been carried out, he would have lost the man. Gaius would not have stood aside and watched in stoic disapproval as he had whenever he disagreed with some of Uther’s other decisions over the years. He would have fought for Merlin, possibly even with magic, and he would have died with the son of his heart.
The king wasn’t sure how he felt about that, about the knowledge that this was the line that would make an enemy of a friend, but he could see the sense in it. He could understand a father looking out for his son as best he could, protecting him from the dangers of the world, from kings and sorcerers alike.
He supposed that’s what he got when he allowed a fatherless child to seek shelter under the roof of his castle with a sonless old man.
More surprising than Gaius were the knights.
Uther had chosen to bring a handful of Arthur’s knights on this quest rather than his own. They’d proven their willingness to lay their lives down for their prince more than once and Uther knew they’d fight harder, past logic and reason, to save Arthur. They’d also seemed less wary of the compulsion, more willing to follow the servant than simply kill him as Uther’s older knights had urged. As Uther still itched to do at every flash of golden eyes, compass or no.
Arthur’s knights treated Merlin like he was one of their own, theirs to protect, theirs to tend. He was more than just a servant to them.
They’d been silent that first night after they'd set out when Uther had wanted to prod the boy forward, uncaring that the magic of the compulsion was obviously the only thing keeping him on his feet. Their silence had spoken louder than any words they could say and their relief had been palpable when Gaius had swayed the king away from pushing on.
Uther wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t have simply dug their heels in and refused to be moved if he’d decided otherwise.
It was a sobering thought, one that made him wonder if they still considered him their king or if they were simply waiting patiently for Arthur to take the crown. He’d never ask, but he suspected he knew the answer to that question already.
Finally, Gaius left Merlin’s side and trudged wearily over to sit near the king. “The compulsion is worsening. We must be growing close. Each night, a larger, stronger dose must be administered to be effective.”
Uther nodded, silent as he considered that. It frustrated him that he was forced to follow along behind this boy and the magic that held him in its grip. He was a man of action and though years of the crown had taught him the value of patience and strategy, the entire situation was designed to tear through that hard won wisdom.
Camelot had lost its prince, the knights their leader, the boy his master, but all of that was meaningless to Uther.
Arthur was his son. He’d already come far too close to losing him than he liked to remember.
“We’re in Mercian territory, but…” he said, pushing at the logs of their campfire with a stick. “This doesn’t strike me as the sort of tactic King Baynard would employ.”
“No. Mercia has no more love of magic than does Camelot.”
“Another attempt to set us at war with each other?”
Gaius shrugged. “It is possible. The peace between our nations has always been tenuous at best.”
“Nimueh?” He hated that name, hated even more the memories and images it called forth. It was easy to believe that the traitorous witch was behind this newest ploy to drive him mad.
“No, sire. It is not Nimueh.” There was such confidence in Gaius’ voice that it made Uther wonder what the physician knew that he didn’t. He chose not to question it, though. There were only so many worries he could deal with at any given time and worry over Arthur was taking up most of that allotment.
Quiet and subdued, the knights began tucking into their bedrolls, leaving Uther and Gaius to contemplate the fire on their own.
The king had chosen to take the first watch each night since they’d set out and the knights had ceased protesting the wrongness of it after the second night.
“Nothing about this makes sense,” Uther muttered, stabbing more viciously at the fire. “Why kidnap Arthur at all? And why lead us to him? Surely there are easier ways to set up an ambush. Especially for a sorcerer with the ability to simply magik someone away without any other trace.”
Another shrug and a sigh.
He wasn’t really expecting anything different. They’d wasted the entire first day in counsel, trying to sift through the situation for what they were missing. No one could do more than guess at either the identity of the abductors or the reasoning behind it.
The minds of sorcerers were dark places that other men could not hope to understand, but the knowledge was little comfort to Uther as he stayed up late into the night, contemplating the fate of his son.
Across the fire, Merlin twitched in his bedroll, muttering Arthur’s name.
~*~*~
The fire gave a half-hearted crack and pop as the dying embers shifted in the night, orange-gold sparks catching on the breeze and lifting in a moonlit dance across the camp.
Beside Gaius, near the fire, a dark head eased up.
Eyes burning bright gold swept across the camp, each knight sinking deeper into slumber as they were touched by that gaze.
Sitting against a tree a few feet away, on guard, Ewaine’s head began to dip and he yawned widely. He shook his head, trying to clear away the exhaustion that was suddenly tugging at him.
It was too strong to be denied, though and his body began to slump more fully against the tree, his head tilting sideways and a snuffle of sound escaping as he gave one last attempt to fight it.
Then he settled into the doze more completely, lulled into deep sleep with the rest of the camp.
No one stirred as compulsion drove Merlin out of his bedroll and into the forest.
~*~*~
Time passed in a blurry haze for Arthur Pendragon.
One moment he was warm and content, happily poking at Merlin to see if he could get a rise out of a manservant who had been far too quiet and serious since Arthur’s brush with death, the next he’d been cold and uncomfortable, a murmur of voices just outside of his perception, and no clear idea of how he’d gone from one set of circumstances to the other.
There’d been a building of pressure inside his head and body, then the sudden rush of release that had left him dizzy and disoriented.
Then… nothing.
He’d drifted in and out of sleep, and part of him had despaired. It felt too much like when he’d been bound inside his own head, near-fatally wounded by the questing beast, and really… what were the odds he could come back from that twice?
His shoulder throbbed at the mere thought of the wound, a reminder that he hadn’t healed fully, no matter how much he tried to insist that he had.
Another part of him railed against that, insisted that he could beat this, that he would survive because anything else was unacceptable.
He huffed with amusement as his mind drifted again and he had the sudden mental image of two little Arthur’s fighting each other over the matter.
“Arthur…”
He ignored the voice at first. If he was already imagining to of himself in a little mock tournament, surely imagining Merlin’s voice was nothing exceptional. He rather liked Merlin’s voice when it wasn’t being disrespectful or disappointed. There was a soothing timbre to it that always made Arthur want to relax into it.
“Come on, Arthur, no one’s here now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.” Hands tugged at his arms and something rough and scratchy rubbed against his skin. “Please Arthur. You’re not dead. You’re not allowed to be. Come on.”
Arthur frowned slightly because while imagining Merlin’s voice wasn’t odd at all, imagining it full of worry and fear was. He didn’t like worry and fear any more than he did disrespectful or disappointed. Why was he imagining it like that?
Those hands moved to his feet for a moment and then a weight he hadn’t even realized was pressing against his chest was lifted.
“Bloody…” Merlin’s voice growled in aggravation and pain, making Arthur’s frown grow. Because really. If he had to imagine Merlins’ voice, why couldn’t it be warm and content, soft with affection and admiration?
Then a gurgle of sound escaped his own throat as a sharp sting bloomed across his cheek.
“Wake up, Arthur!”
“How dare you strike me,” was what Arthur meant to say because no product of his own mind had ever actually hit him before and he was certain that even hallucinations weren’t allowed to do so. What came out was less coherent vocabulary and more disgruntled groaning with a few snuffling grunts mixed in.
“Oh thank goodness, you’re alive.” Merlin - and it had to be the real one, because only the real Merlin would have the audacity to actually strike royalty - pulled him up to a sitting position and Arthur wasn’t able to bite back the whimper as the world tried to spin away from him. “It’s all right, Arthur. I’ve got you.”
He was only vaguely aware of Merlin clambering up and behind him, trying to get him to sit up.
“Stop,” he rasped when the movement made his stomach lurch and his head swim.
“Okay. Here, lean back against me, Sire.”
Blinking his eyes open seemed to more difficult than even the most rigorous tournament and he had to wince and shut them again at the assault of color and light that overwhelmed his vision.
Gentle hands urged him back and it was more effort than he could muster to resist.
“There are… colors…” Arthur waved a careless hand as he slumped back against Merlin, grateful for the solid strength that helped him keep the worst of the dizzy spinning at bay. His head was throbbing slightly, but everything was slightly distant, almost as if he’d had too much to drink. Had he?
He didn’t remember.
Fretful hands brushed his hair back from his face and he leaned into the touch, a soft sigh of contentment as the touch cooled the throbbing heat pulsing behind his eyes.
“It’s all right, Arthur. I’ll get you to Gaius soon. He’ll sort your head back out. And your vision.”
Gaius… The name brought to mind smelly, foul concoctions and gentle admonishments that if you would stay in bed until you are well, sire, and then you wouldn’t collapse in front of your knights.
He flopped a hand around, trying to get Merlin’s attention. It was important dammit. “Merlin… merlin… don’t let him give me that… anything … you can’t… foul.”
His hand was captured and held tight against his chest. There was relief and amusement in his servant’s voice. Which was better than the fear and distress, at least, though Arthur was sure it wasn’t exactly proper. “All right, sire. I won’t let him give you anything too horrible.”
He managed to blink his eyes open again, hoping to get a glimpse of his manservant so that he could properly judge Merlin’s sincerity. Merlin was a horrible liar if you could actually look into his face. It wasn’t quite as difficult as it had been, which was a relief, but the other man was angled too far behind him. He’d have to turn to get a better look and Arthur wasn’t feeling quite that braced just yet.
Merlin was usually fairly trustworthy in these things, though, and he disliked Gaius’s concoctions almost as much as Arthur did. Anyone with sense or taste did.
“Right. Good lad.” Arthur started to nod, but stopped abruptly as that sent the world spinning away in a myriad of swirling colors. He gagged as his stomach protested vehemently.
“Woah, okay. Be still, Arthur.”
“Merlin.” He tugged, trying to get his hands away from the ones that held his pinned to his chest. When had Merlin gotten stronger than he? Was he sick? “Merlin. Listen to me.”
“Yes, sire?”
He paused, trying to grasp at his thoughts through the hazy fog of color. “It’s… Merlin…”
His hands were released and Merlin shifted them around so that Arthur was held gently against his chest, like some sort of maiden Merlin needed to rescue. It was disconcerting and Arthur intended to protest such high handed treatment just as soon as he could figure out how to form the right words.
The thought was lost entirely as the chaotic rainbow of colors was overwhelmed by warm, burnished gold.
It swelled and seeped into everything, bathing Arthur’s world in the soft golden color.
Arthur couldn’t help but reach out a hand, enchanted, to let the pool of gold waft around his fingers gently. It felt like life and love and everything good in the world.
It felt like Merlin.
~*~*~
“There’s no trail at all, Sire. It’s like he was taken away by magic. Just like Prince Arthur.” Ewaine sounded absolutely wretched, but Uther’s mouth simply twisted at the news.
He’d known the sleep was unnatural. He’d never been the sort to sleep deeply when he was on the trail and Arthur’s knights were a diligent lot. If one felt they simply couldn’t push past their exhaustion to stay on guard, they’d have woken up another to take their place.
The king glanced over to where Gaius was staring into the fire again as if it held the answers to all the questions of the world. The physician seemed to have aged years since he’d awoken to find the boy gone from his bedroll and everyone around the campfire in an enchanted sleep.
Uther sighed and nodded to Ewaine. “Keep looking. Sweep further out, but be sure that everyone maintains line of sight with another. We don’t want anyone else disappearing.”
Once the knight had left to pass on his orders, Uther returned to the fire to stand beside Gaius.
“I’ve thought on it, Sire…” Gaius shook his head, looking bleak. “The siren call Merlin’s been following… There are many spells in the Old Religion that call for a sacrifice and one willingly given is truly the most potent. Actual teleportation requires a great deal of energy and concentration. Perhaps the sorcerer’s power wasn’t great enough to take them both at once and he was forced to compel Merlin to follow on his own. Then, given a week to recharge, snatching him up as well would be child’s play, especially if the distance were less.”
Although it pained him to add weight to the man’s concern, Uther had to nod. It did make sense. Arthur’s manservant had proven more than once that he was willing to sacrifice his own life for his prince. It was what the king liked best about the bumbling simpleton, the only reason Uther bothered to remember his name. “Perhaps it is Mercia, after all. They are well aware of the boy’s willingness to die to save Arthur.”
Gaius looked as if he’d swallowed one of his own less palatable potions. “Indeed.”
He wished there were reassurances that he could give Gaius, that he could somehow deny the dire explanation, but even if he could find such empty words to offer his friend, the man knew him far too well to believe them. Of all the scenarios and possibilities they’d considered, this made the most sense. It still didn’t explain what the villains intended to do with Arthur, but everything else lined up.
It was an ugly picture, but reality, he’d found, was seldom pretty.
“Sire! Sire, over here!”
Uther and Gaius shared a look, then the king whirled away, hurtling through the woods towards the sound of Leon’s voice, the physician only seconds behind him.
That had been excitement.
The knights were closer to the camp than he’d expected, Leon and Ewaine crouched over the two still forms of the prince and his manservant. He was sure they’d searched the area thoroughly. He was absolutely certain of it or he wouldn’t have allowed the men to begin widening their search net.
The thought had barely crossed his mind before the remainder of the knights closed in on their position, each drawn back in by Leon’s shout, and they were once again at the full strength of their small rescue party, plus their prince.
His stomach tightened and his eyes scanned the trees, alert for the sorcerer that must have done all of this. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword tightly. Was this all a mad chase just to get them here, in a poorly defensible place?
If so, the moment to attack would have been as the king and his physician had rushed in, concern making them momentarily careless while the knights had been out of any kind of defensive position. That moment had passed and Uther did not intend to drop his guard again.
There was no attack, no sounds other than their own and that of the forest going about its business.
Bloody sorcerers and their bloody complicated and confusing ways.
“Are they-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, but it proved to be unnecessary.
Leon shook his head, relief and joy filling his expression. “No, Sire. They’re alive, merely unconscious. They look a bit ragged around the edges and the prince is going to be demanding a bath as soon as he wakes, but they’re both breathing evenly.”
“They just appeared out of nowhere,” Ewaine added, his voice hushed as he continued to check the boy over for injuries. “I walked right over this spot not a minute before. I only turned back at all because I thought I heard something.”
Tapping his shoulder lightly, Gaius took his place, his mask of professionalism not able to hide the tremble in his hands as he gave both a quick field examination or the naked relief in his eyes as he found them to be physically sound. “They suffer no wounds that I can find. Obviously we can’t be sure about their minds or if they suffer from another ailment until they awaken… or don’t awaken, whichever the case may be.”
Uther motioned for the knights to stand guard and dropped to his knees beside his son, allowing a rare moment of tender care to show as he brushed Arthur’s hair back from his forehead. As long as he breathed, there was hope, whatever else the sorcerers must have done. He glanced over at the other boy. Merlin looked far more relaxed than he had for the entire trip, proving that even unconscious, the compulsion had been trying to force him onward. Pushing on non-stop, the manservant would have made the area in half the time.
“Perhaps the delay caused by your potions ruined their spells?”
The physician nodded, following his thought processes easily. “There are many spells that must be performed quickly after preparations are made or at a certain shade of the moon, otherwise their potency are lost.” He sighed. “It makes as much sense as anything else I can think of. Perhaps Arthur will have more to tell us when he awakens. Or Merlin.”
Hesitating, Uther stared at the boy, duel feelings of gratitude and disgust warring with each other. “Is he still touched by magic?”
Gaius’s hands stilled and he looked at Uther with a grave expression. “The compulsion seems to have either been lifted or dissipated naturally, Sire. Obviously, I won’t know anything for certain until he awakens.”
Uther nodded and drew Arthur’s arm over his shoulder, trying not to think of the last time he’d carried his son this way. This was different, he reminded himself.
There was no bloody, dirty under-tunic exposing a life-threatening wound. No reason to believe that pale blue eyes would never open again and he’d be alone, left with nothing but the knowledge that he’d been unable to save the only two people who’d ever truly mattered to him.
“Sire?”
The quiet voice of one of the few trusted friends he had left cut through the dark thoughts and he looked up at the man. There were still so many unanswered questions. Who had kidnapped Arthur and why? What had they done to him in the week they’d held him captive? Why had Merlin been compelled and if it was their best working theory, why allow the compulsion to continue after the time had expired? Did a lingering taint of magic linger in the boy?
What was the point of it all?
And his council…. They were going to have a fit. No one had exactly approved of Uther’s planned rescue, not any single part of it, but especially not the parts about the king going out with little protection and a boy obviously under the influence of magic.
There would be questions about Uther’s willingness to ignore the laws when it suited him. He despised the politics of it all occasionally, missed the days when the law was easily changeable on his whim, when he gave little thought beyond who to conquer next.
How was he going to placate the ones he actually needed?
Gaius arched a brow, a different question on his face than the dozens that were rushing through Uther’s mind and he nodded sharply again, understanding that question intimately, father to father.
The compulsion was gone and Arthur was safe once more. He could be merciful. He could give Gaius this and be damned anyone who dared to question him over it. “Let’s take them home, Gaius.”
~*~*~
When Merlin awoke, his head felt like it was stuffed with muslin. Everything ached, not unlike the morning after a day of being beaten up in one of Arthur’s supposed ‘training’ sessions.
A gentle hand, as familiar as his mother’s, settled on his forehead for a moment and Merlin relaxed. When Gaius spoke, his voice was soft and warm. “How do you feel, Merlin?”
Merlin swallowed, wincing at the dry, raw feeling of his throat. His own voice was cracked and rough. “Like I spent an entire day playing training dummy for Arthur and the knights.”
A second chuckled joined physician’s and Merlin cracked an eye open to see a truly frightening sight at the end of the cot he was resting on - Gaius’s cot, if he wasn’t mistaken. Uther Pendragon stood there, leaning back against a table with his arms crossed, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than contemplate his son’s mentally afflicted manservant.
Each of his eyes were pried open gently by Gaius as the old man peered at him with gentle concern. Merlin knew enough about the healing arts now, to know that the effects of head injuries and drugs could sometimes be read in the eyes, so he didn’t protest the treatment even though his eyes felt as dry and scratchy as his throat and it hurt a bit.
The physician made a light humming noise and nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the king. “The compulsion is gone, Sire.”
“The wha-” Merlin blinked at them in confusion as Uther nodded in satisfaction.
“Good. I will inform my council and remind them that we are all potential prey to the whims of evil sorcery and that they would not want their own fates dictated by someone else’s actions.”
“Gaius?” He hated the plaintive sound of his voice of his voice. “What’s going on?”
Gaius checked his pulse. “What do you remember?”
“Umm…” He thought back. “There was a feast. Beltane? And I helped Ar… err.. The prince to bed. Then…” His eyes widened and he glanced between them again. The only thing that kept him from springing from the bed and running to check on his friend was the fact that he knew he’d only end up flat on his face if he even tried to sit up. “Arthur. I… we were in the forest. There was stone dais… Is he all right, Gaius?”
He had to be. Surely he’d know if Arthur was gone from the world. He’d feel it, wouldn’t he?
Merlin forced himself to take a calm breath. He couldn’t imagine that Uther would be sitting calmly in the physician’s chamber if his son lay near death elsewhere.
“He’s still unconscious, but has suffered no injury that I can find. Merlin,” Gaius hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Do you remember how you came to be in the forrest? How you found Arthur? Was there anyone there that you noticed? How did you come to be back in the forest where we found you?”
Merlin’s head swam and his eyes closed again, clenching shut against the vision of the old men staring at him intently as if the answers to all of their questions were written out on his forehead. “I don’t know, Gaius. I was here, then I was there, and then I was here again. What happened?”
With only another hesitation, Gaius sighed and brushed his hair off his forehead. “The Beltane feast was nine days ago, Merlin.”
“What?!” Eyes flying open, Merlin started to sit up only to fall back against the cot when the movement disturbed the horses racing about his skull. “Over a week?” he asked weakly.
“Yes, Merlin. The morning after the feast Arthur was found to be missing and you were…” There was another long hesitation, long enough that Merlin forced his eyes open again to try to read the cause on Gaius’s face. Another sigh and Gaius shook his head. With his back more or less to the king, he gave Merlin a significant look, though his voice remained normal. “You were enchanted with a compulsion. Your eyes were glowing gold and you were trying to walk through the wall.”
“I was-” Merlin swallowed hard, hand coming up instinctively to flutter at his neck as his eyes darted to the king. “I… don’t remember that.”
If his eyes were gold, his own magic must have been in play. He’d never known anyone else’s magic to do such a thing.
Even if it wasn’t, to be under the influence of magic was still a death sentence. A mere suspicion of consorting with a magic user could get one thrown into the dungeons. How did he still have his head? His gut clenched with fear and he felt even more faint than he already had.
Uther gave a satisfied nod. He’d obviously noticed Merlin’s reaction and was pleased by it. “Gaius believed you wouldn’t. He’ll have to keep an eye on you, of course. Make sure there isn’t any residual magic left within you, but for now, your life remains your own.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Merlin managed faintly, almost dizzy with genuine gratitude. In Camelot, there was no mercy for even the suspicion of magic. For Uther to ignore it… As far as Merlin knew, he’d only ever done that for Gaius.
The king nodded again and stood. “I’ll take my leave, Gaius. I’ll have you informed as soon as Arthur regains consciousness.”
“Thank you, Sire.” Gaius waited until Uther was gone before he seemed to deflate a little, the pretense and lies that forced him to remain stoic and professional leaving with the king. When he turned back to Merlin, he sighed and shook his hand before taking a seat next to the cot. “Merlin, you are going to be the death of me yet.”
He looked older to Merlin than he ever had before and the sorcerer felt bad that he was taking so many years off of the man’s life.
“I’m sorry, Gaius.”
But Gaius just waved the apology away and smiled. “It’s hardly your fault that you and Arthur attract so much trouble. Usually.” His entire expression softened with fondness. “I’m just glad that you are all right. I was truly afraid that the compulsion would burn you out before we found Arthur.”
“I still don’t understand what happened, Gaius.” Nothing that either man had said made much sense to Merlin, though he thought that some of that might be because his head was still swimming. “I mean… When I managed to get Arthur up and moving, we were fine. There was no one there, so I can’t imagine why we’d end up unconscious.. Well… I mean, Arthur was pretty out of it, but me?”
“Wait…” Gaius sat a hand on his shoulder. “Are you saying Arthur was awake?”
“Well, not at first. Not when I got there.” Merlin had to push away the memory of how still Arthur had been up on the dais, still as death without even the faintest rise and fall of his chest to show that he was breathing. For a long moment, he’d actually believed his prince, his friend to be lost to him. “But yes. He woke up.” He opted not to tell Gaius that he’d slapped the prince. He wasn’t up for a lecture on how one should or should not handle a semi-conscious prince. “He dry heaved a little and he was complaining about.. Colors, or something.”
Gaius got the faraway look that said he was thinking, trying to reason out the details as much through what Merlin didn’t say as what he did. “You’d been running on nothing but magic for a week. It’d be easy enough for a sorcerer of any power to knock you out.”
“Gaius, seriously. There was no one else there, magically inclined or otherwise. Just me and Arthur.” He let his eyes drift closed again. He was so tired. “Perhaps my own magic brought us back to you.”
He didn’t remember it, though, and that bothered him. He’d gotten Arthur free and had been trying to coax him off of the dais. Then… nothing. As he’d said. He’d been there, then he’d been here. No sharp pain to speak of a blow to the head, no voices that could have been spells being cast, not even the dizzying rush of unconsciousness. His memory simply stopped with Arthur curled into him, muttering about colors and softness.
“Now, Merlin. Just because you didn’t see anyone-”
“Ever since the Isle of the Blessed,” he couldn’t quite say ever since I killed Nimueh “I’ve been able to sense magic more, Gaius. Even the small bits in otherwise non-magical people. Sorcerers and druids practically hum with it. Believe me. If anyone else had been there, I’d have known.” He bit his lip and peeked up at the physician again. “Gaius… Arthur was humming with it. I don’t know what they did to him, but magic was all over him.”
Arthur’s particular spark of internal magic had always been a bit stronger than many of those Merlin came into contact with, but this had been very, very different. There’d been more magic coming off of Arthur than there usually was on Gaius or Morgana.
As he gave a small sigh and began to sink back into rest, Merlin wished Gaius didn’t look as disturbed as he felt. That made his own uneasiness more difficult to dismiss.
~*~*~
Uther couldn’t justify sitting by Arthur’s bedside every moment of every day no matter how much he wanted to. Between his decision to lead the rescue party himself, leaving his own knights to guard Camelot while he took the ones that had trained under his son’s hands, and letting the servant live despite being obviously touched by magic for over a week, the nobles were uneasy and restless, wondering if he’d stopped being their king and started just being Arthur’s father.
He’d been forced to spend most of his day listening to them try to dissect who had attacked the prince and why, once more. They’d been circling around it for days, no closer now than when Arthur had initially disappeared. No evil sorcerer had arrived to cackle on about their power over the royal family and though Gaius had said that Arthur had moved from unconsciousness to natural sleep, there’d been no other change in his condition.
His mouth tightened at the thought of the impertinence of some of his nobles - especially the younger lot, the ones whose fathers had served him so faithfully but were now gone, leaving their younglings to be dealt with. None would dare challenge him outright, but he could still see it in their faces and hear it in their voices.
If politics didn’t demand that he needed them… He thumbed the hilt of his sword, wondering if he could arrange a demonstration of why he was still someone they’d be wise to fear and respect. Surely if he culled just one from the herd…
Probably best not to, sadly.
He could almost hear Goloris snorting, ribbing him about letting a bunch of frightened old men and insolent little whelps try to dictate to him. But then, Goloris would have also been the first one to counsel patience and giving warnings about losing his temper and lobbing off heads.
There were days when he missed his old friend as acutely as a limb.
Gaius was a good friend, better than he probably deserved, and he’d made good use of the man’s counsel over the years, but it wasn’t the same. Gaius had never quite been his equal, had always erred on the side of deferential. He wouldn’t dream of slapping Uther in the back of the head and calling him an idiot.
Uther’s lips curled into a slight smile at the thought. He rather suspected that Gaius did dream of it, actually, but simply would never allow himself the pleasure. The physician had always been the proper sort, after all.
His smile grew even further when he entered his son’s room to find Arthur sitting hunched in the center of the bed looking miserable and woebegone, but awake and better yet, alive. “Arthur. I was beginning to think you intended to laze away in bed for an entire month.”
Despite the words, his voice was warm with relief and affection. He wondered what it said about him that his son was only sure of his love in these moments after one of them had brushed too closely to death’s door. He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that too closely.
Arthur had his head propped on one palm and blinked bleary eyes at him for a moment before his face abruptly lost all color. Almost immediately, the pale skin filled with a vague green tinge, but Uther had recognized that particular expression and had the bucket Gaius had left by the bedside up and in position before Arthur heaved the thin bile of whatever potion he’d been force fed most recently.
“Shhh…” He rubbed a gentle hand up and down the younger man’s back as Arthur clung weakly to the bucket. “It’s all right, Arthur.”
The prince made a noise of mingled disgust and pained disgruntlement, but allowed his father to help him.
“Gaius will be along in a moment, possibly with Merlin in tow.” He hadn’t seen the boy in the few days since he’d woken up and they’d been reassured that the magic hadn’t permanently tainted him, but he knew that Morgana had visited him. She’d mentioned that he was improving now that Gaius could actually get him to eat again and he knew the comfort that could be had in the simple knowledge that one’s most trusted servant was close by. He wasn’t entirely sure he approved of just how close Arthur had allowed their relationship to become - sometimes he despaired of his son ever learning to maintain a proper kingly distance between himself and those around him - but if it eased even a small portion of Arthur’s suffering, then he was willing to overlook it.
“Merrr?” Some of Arthur’s trembling stopped and his eyes had slipped closed as he slumped against his father’s side. Uther gave himself this moment, this one moment in time to revel in his son’s life and trust, to set aside the weight of his crown and simply be Uther, Arthur’s father, instead of Uther, King of Camelot. He let his cheek rest against Arthur’s soft, golden hair and breathed deeply, sending up an unspoken prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening.
“Yes, Arthur. And if he doesn’t bring Merlin, we’ll have him fetched.”
He wondered if these moments might not have been so rare if Ygraine had lived. Would father and son be closer if there’d been mother there to guide them along through the more troubling aspects of any relationship between to such stubborn males?
He pushed away the might have beens to concentrate on the here and now.
~*~*~
Gaius told Uther than he was sure that Arthur was fine, that he just needed time. It hadn’t been that long since the questing beast had poisoned him and the kidnapping and subsequent captivity had knocked his system out of it’s proper working order. There was also the issue of dehydration and Arthur obviously hadn’t gotten properly fed while he’d been unconscious.
Gaius told Uther all of that and Uther believed him without question.
Merlin wasn’t so certain.
He’d stood back, trying to be invisible in a far corner of the room, while Gaius examined Arthur and he’d watched all three of them, but mostly, he’d watched Arthur.
He’d watched an Arthur who was unusually subdued, none of his usual complaints or insistence that there was nothing wrong with him.
As long as his eyes were closed, the prince had only looked the perfectly expected amount of miserable.
As soon as his eyes had opened, he grew pale and his face took on a more pinched look.
If Uther happened to put himself right into Arthur’s line of vision… Then the prince turned a truly fascinating shade of green and his stomach tried to revolt again even though he didn’t even have water in his system any longer.
He was slightly better if it was Gaius, but he still looked more pained and nauseous than if he was looking at no one at all.
And through it all, the magic that Merlin had noticed in the forest hummed underneath, strong enough that he was a little surprised that no one else seemed to be able to feel it.
Eventually, Gaius pulled Uther from the room, assuring him that rest would be the best thing for Arthur and giving Merlin a significant look that said he’d noticed many of the same things the younger sorcerer had and they’d have to speak of it later.
Merlin hovered in the shadows of the room for a moment, watching as Arthur slowly relaxed once the others were out of the room entirely.
“I know you’re there,” the prince called, his voice rough with sickness and disuse. He was still propped up on the pillows, his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes closed. “So you may as well stop hiding.”
The words were still slurred and it was easy to see that speaking was painful. Not that Merlin was particularly surprised. Arthur’s throat had to be as raw as beaten meat. Still, what little he’d been able to push out with Gaius and Uther in the room had been pathetic and mostly insensible. The sorcerer arched a brow as he stepped closer to the bed. “You weren’t this coherent before.”
Arthur threw a baleful look in his general direction. “You try being coherent when-”
Cutting off abruptly, the prince looked away and Merlin ventured even closer, daring to settle on the edge of the bed and raising a hand to Arthur’s brow. As he had in the forest, Arthur simply sighed and leaned against his hand. “When what Arthur?”
But Arthur just shook his head and raised a trembling hand to his eyes. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t ‘nothing’, though, Merlin could tell. He thought back to those moments in the forest, when Arthur had slumped against him. No, more than that… when he’d curled into Merlin like the sorcerer was the only thing safe and stable in the world.
Even now, Arthur was curling towards him instinctively, relaxing under his touch, and his color was improving. The magic humming under his skin had settled down, calm instead of chaotic.
Merlin knew that they were closer than a servant and prince should be. He’d heard enough whispering as he passed other servants to know that. He’d seen the disapproval in Uther’s eyes, knew the king was continuously displeased by the lengths Arthur was willing to go to in order to protect or save Merlin.
Sometimes he even thought, hoped, that they were more. That they’d passed the boundary of simple friendship to the kind of closeness he’d only ever dreamed. He didn’t think he was imagining that Arthur felt the same.
He knew all of that, but it didn’t really account for the sheer depth of comfort that Arthur seemed to be taking in his presence now. This was a purely physical comfort in sharp contrast to the pain and illness caused by Uther and Gaius.
His mentor was forever trying to get him to think in more scientific ways, to look over the evidence and theorize before going with his gut feeling. He’d never been particularly good at it.
Luckily, both his gut and the evidence were leaning him in the same direction this time.
“Does it have anything to do with the colors?” He asked softly, brushing the damp blondee hair back off of Arthur’s forehead.
Pale blue eyes flew open and for the first time, Arthur looked directly at him. He was tense and wary, but there was none of the pain or sickness. “How did you-”
“You mentioned it before, when I found you.”
Arthur swallowed and seemed to hesitate for another moment before nodding slowly. He didn’t seem particularly keen on continuing, though, so Merlin prodded him gently.
“What’s going on, Arthur? We can’t help you if you aren’t honest about it.”
“There’s-” Arthur bit off his words for a moment, judging, weighing what he was trying to say. “Everything is saturated with it. Everyone. And it’s almost.. Alive. It feels.” His eyes slid towards the door, then back to Merlin. “Some of it’s so bright it hurts my eyes, like they’re being stabbed. And some of it’s so dark, it twists my stomach up in knots and makes me ill.”
“Your father and Gaius,” Merlin guessed.
The prince nodded and pushed down into his bed, settling further into his blankets He burrowed into his pillow, looking so much like a lost little boy that Merlin wanted to tuck him in and do anything in his power to protect him from this. “Father was.. Both. Like some kind of twisted, vortex of violent colors. Gaius less so but still not very pleasant.”
Merlin gave in to the urge to tuck the blankets up around Arthur’s chin. “And me?”
That brought the pale gaze back to his face and Arthur stared at him for a long moment. “Golden. You radiate this warm, golden glow that just kind of… chases away all the rest.”
“Oh.” Merlin blinked, completely unprepared for that answer. He didn’t quite know what to do with it.
One of Arthur’s hands came up to clasp Merlin’s wrist and he looked vulnerable in a way that Arthur Pendragon should never look. His voice was hesitant and Merlin suspected that Arthur would rather face down an army of angry dragons than actually speak what was on his mind. He’d never been particularly good at admitting need or asking for help - real help, not the kind of help that was always getting Merlin thrown into the stocks. Merlin wasn’t sure if it said more about the depth of trust Arthur had for him to show him this vulnerability or about how bad he actually felt that he couldn’t hide it. “Stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
Merlin thought it might be a bit of both.
He smiled and brushed a hand back through Arthur’s hair. “Of course, Arthur. As long as you need.”
As if there’d ever been a question that Arthur’s side was where he was meant to be.
~*~*~
Continue on to Part 2
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
~*~*~
Mornie utulie (darkness has come),
Believe and you will find your way.
Mornie alantie (darkness has fallen),
A promise lives within you now...
- Lisa Kelly, May it Be
~*~*~
“Arthur…”
“Yes, I know, Merlin. Please hold still.”
“But… Gaius… Arthur…”
“Drink this.”
Uther watched from a polite distance as the court physician pressed some strange bubbling concoction down the servant boy’s throat.
He’d argued the first night after they’d left the castle behind, encouraging the compulsion pushing Merlin forward, but he’d eventually conceded to Gaius’ logic. There were too many unanswered questions to keep pushing forward blindly without rest for all of them.
Which didn’t make it easier for the king to simply sit back and watch.
Almost a week had passed since Beltane, when he’d woken to the news that Arthur was gone. It might have been dismissed as another of Arthur’s attempts to assert some measure of self-control over his own life, but none of his clothing or armor had been missing and his horse had been patiently waiting in its stall when the knights had been sent to check.
Then there was Merlin.
He’d woken Gaius up that morning, so far gone out of his head that he couldn’t even manage to get out of the door, simply trying to push forward towards the pull that had him deep in its clutches.
Faced with fever bright eyes and the shine of burning gold magic, Uther had wanted to put the boy down then and there, had ordered it, even, but again, Gaius’ logic had won the day.
The boy was under an obvious compulsion. The only thought burning its way through his mind was Arthur, the need to follow that pull to his master overwhelming everything else.
He was their compass, the one that would lead them to the prince.
Uther could see the moment that Gaius’ potion began to take effect. The bright gold in Merlin’s eyes dimmed away to nearly a sliver and he slumped bonelessly against the older man. “Gaius?”
“It’s all right, Merlin. Just sleep. Yes, that’s a good lad.”
The servant mumbled something else, but it was incoherent and lost as the potion finally allowed his mind and body to rest. Without it, Merlin would simply continue forward, mindless and exhausted until his body collapsed on its own. Gaius waved towards the knights and one separated from the rest of the group, obediently fetching Merlin and getting him settled into his bedroll.
Gaius followed quietly, tucking the blankets around the boy and brushing dark, damp hair back, affection and worry predominate on his face.
With little else to occupy his thoughts on this journey besides worry for his son and plans of vengeance once he finally found the culprit, Uther had found himself watching the interactions of his companions more closely. He’d known to some degree that Gaius was fond of Merlin, but he’d never quite realized how deeply his friend cared for the boy. Gaius did not treat Merlin like an apprentice or even a friend. He treated Merlin like someone whose well-being meant more to him than his own.
He treated Merlin like a beloved son.
Uther knew without a doubt now that if his initial order to execute Merlin had been carried out, he would have lost the man. Gaius would not have stood aside and watched in stoic disapproval as he had whenever he disagreed with some of Uther’s other decisions over the years. He would have fought for Merlin, possibly even with magic, and he would have died with the son of his heart.
The king wasn’t sure how he felt about that, about the knowledge that this was the line that would make an enemy of a friend, but he could see the sense in it. He could understand a father looking out for his son as best he could, protecting him from the dangers of the world, from kings and sorcerers alike.
He supposed that’s what he got when he allowed a fatherless child to seek shelter under the roof of his castle with a sonless old man.
More surprising than Gaius were the knights.
Uther had chosen to bring a handful of Arthur’s knights on this quest rather than his own. They’d proven their willingness to lay their lives down for their prince more than once and Uther knew they’d fight harder, past logic and reason, to save Arthur. They’d also seemed less wary of the compulsion, more willing to follow the servant than simply kill him as Uther’s older knights had urged. As Uther still itched to do at every flash of golden eyes, compass or no.
Arthur’s knights treated Merlin like he was one of their own, theirs to protect, theirs to tend. He was more than just a servant to them.
They’d been silent that first night after they'd set out when Uther had wanted to prod the boy forward, uncaring that the magic of the compulsion was obviously the only thing keeping him on his feet. Their silence had spoken louder than any words they could say and their relief had been palpable when Gaius had swayed the king away from pushing on.
Uther wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t have simply dug their heels in and refused to be moved if he’d decided otherwise.
It was a sobering thought, one that made him wonder if they still considered him their king or if they were simply waiting patiently for Arthur to take the crown. He’d never ask, but he suspected he knew the answer to that question already.
Finally, Gaius left Merlin’s side and trudged wearily over to sit near the king. “The compulsion is worsening. We must be growing close. Each night, a larger, stronger dose must be administered to be effective.”
Uther nodded, silent as he considered that. It frustrated him that he was forced to follow along behind this boy and the magic that held him in its grip. He was a man of action and though years of the crown had taught him the value of patience and strategy, the entire situation was designed to tear through that hard won wisdom.
Camelot had lost its prince, the knights their leader, the boy his master, but all of that was meaningless to Uther.
Arthur was his son. He’d already come far too close to losing him than he liked to remember.
“We’re in Mercian territory, but…” he said, pushing at the logs of their campfire with a stick. “This doesn’t strike me as the sort of tactic King Baynard would employ.”
“No. Mercia has no more love of magic than does Camelot.”
“Another attempt to set us at war with each other?”
Gaius shrugged. “It is possible. The peace between our nations has always been tenuous at best.”
“Nimueh?” He hated that name, hated even more the memories and images it called forth. It was easy to believe that the traitorous witch was behind this newest ploy to drive him mad.
“No, sire. It is not Nimueh.” There was such confidence in Gaius’ voice that it made Uther wonder what the physician knew that he didn’t. He chose not to question it, though. There were only so many worries he could deal with at any given time and worry over Arthur was taking up most of that allotment.
Quiet and subdued, the knights began tucking into their bedrolls, leaving Uther and Gaius to contemplate the fire on their own.
The king had chosen to take the first watch each night since they’d set out and the knights had ceased protesting the wrongness of it after the second night.
“Nothing about this makes sense,” Uther muttered, stabbing more viciously at the fire. “Why kidnap Arthur at all? And why lead us to him? Surely there are easier ways to set up an ambush. Especially for a sorcerer with the ability to simply magik someone away without any other trace.”
Another shrug and a sigh.
He wasn’t really expecting anything different. They’d wasted the entire first day in counsel, trying to sift through the situation for what they were missing. No one could do more than guess at either the identity of the abductors or the reasoning behind it.
The minds of sorcerers were dark places that other men could not hope to understand, but the knowledge was little comfort to Uther as he stayed up late into the night, contemplating the fate of his son.
Across the fire, Merlin twitched in his bedroll, muttering Arthur’s name.
~*~*~
The fire gave a half-hearted crack and pop as the dying embers shifted in the night, orange-gold sparks catching on the breeze and lifting in a moonlit dance across the camp.
Beside Gaius, near the fire, a dark head eased up.
Eyes burning bright gold swept across the camp, each knight sinking deeper into slumber as they were touched by that gaze.
Sitting against a tree a few feet away, on guard, Ewaine’s head began to dip and he yawned widely. He shook his head, trying to clear away the exhaustion that was suddenly tugging at him.
It was too strong to be denied, though and his body began to slump more fully against the tree, his head tilting sideways and a snuffle of sound escaping as he gave one last attempt to fight it.
Then he settled into the doze more completely, lulled into deep sleep with the rest of the camp.
No one stirred as compulsion drove Merlin out of his bedroll and into the forest.
~*~*~
Time passed in a blurry haze for Arthur Pendragon.
One moment he was warm and content, happily poking at Merlin to see if he could get a rise out of a manservant who had been far too quiet and serious since Arthur’s brush with death, the next he’d been cold and uncomfortable, a murmur of voices just outside of his perception, and no clear idea of how he’d gone from one set of circumstances to the other.
There’d been a building of pressure inside his head and body, then the sudden rush of release that had left him dizzy and disoriented.
Then… nothing.
He’d drifted in and out of sleep, and part of him had despaired. It felt too much like when he’d been bound inside his own head, near-fatally wounded by the questing beast, and really… what were the odds he could come back from that twice?
His shoulder throbbed at the mere thought of the wound, a reminder that he hadn’t healed fully, no matter how much he tried to insist that he had.
Another part of him railed against that, insisted that he could beat this, that he would survive because anything else was unacceptable.
He huffed with amusement as his mind drifted again and he had the sudden mental image of two little Arthur’s fighting each other over the matter.
“Arthur…”
He ignored the voice at first. If he was already imagining to of himself in a little mock tournament, surely imagining Merlin’s voice was nothing exceptional. He rather liked Merlin’s voice when it wasn’t being disrespectful or disappointed. There was a soothing timbre to it that always made Arthur want to relax into it.
“Come on, Arthur, no one’s here now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.” Hands tugged at his arms and something rough and scratchy rubbed against his skin. “Please Arthur. You’re not dead. You’re not allowed to be. Come on.”
Arthur frowned slightly because while imagining Merlin’s voice wasn’t odd at all, imagining it full of worry and fear was. He didn’t like worry and fear any more than he did disrespectful or disappointed. Why was he imagining it like that?
Those hands moved to his feet for a moment and then a weight he hadn’t even realized was pressing against his chest was lifted.
“Bloody…” Merlin’s voice growled in aggravation and pain, making Arthur’s frown grow. Because really. If he had to imagine Merlins’ voice, why couldn’t it be warm and content, soft with affection and admiration?
Then a gurgle of sound escaped his own throat as a sharp sting bloomed across his cheek.
“Wake up, Arthur!”
“How dare you strike me,” was what Arthur meant to say because no product of his own mind had ever actually hit him before and he was certain that even hallucinations weren’t allowed to do so. What came out was less coherent vocabulary and more disgruntled groaning with a few snuffling grunts mixed in.
“Oh thank goodness, you’re alive.” Merlin - and it had to be the real one, because only the real Merlin would have the audacity to actually strike royalty - pulled him up to a sitting position and Arthur wasn’t able to bite back the whimper as the world tried to spin away from him. “It’s all right, Arthur. I’ve got you.”
He was only vaguely aware of Merlin clambering up and behind him, trying to get him to sit up.
“Stop,” he rasped when the movement made his stomach lurch and his head swim.
“Okay. Here, lean back against me, Sire.”
Blinking his eyes open seemed to more difficult than even the most rigorous tournament and he had to wince and shut them again at the assault of color and light that overwhelmed his vision.
Gentle hands urged him back and it was more effort than he could muster to resist.
“There are… colors…” Arthur waved a careless hand as he slumped back against Merlin, grateful for the solid strength that helped him keep the worst of the dizzy spinning at bay. His head was throbbing slightly, but everything was slightly distant, almost as if he’d had too much to drink. Had he?
He didn’t remember.
Fretful hands brushed his hair back from his face and he leaned into the touch, a soft sigh of contentment as the touch cooled the throbbing heat pulsing behind his eyes.
“It’s all right, Arthur. I’ll get you to Gaius soon. He’ll sort your head back out. And your vision.”
Gaius… The name brought to mind smelly, foul concoctions and gentle admonishments that if you would stay in bed until you are well, sire, and then you wouldn’t collapse in front of your knights.
He flopped a hand around, trying to get Merlin’s attention. It was important dammit. “Merlin… merlin… don’t let him give me that… anything … you can’t… foul.”
His hand was captured and held tight against his chest. There was relief and amusement in his servant’s voice. Which was better than the fear and distress, at least, though Arthur was sure it wasn’t exactly proper. “All right, sire. I won’t let him give you anything too horrible.”
He managed to blink his eyes open again, hoping to get a glimpse of his manservant so that he could properly judge Merlin’s sincerity. Merlin was a horrible liar if you could actually look into his face. It wasn’t quite as difficult as it had been, which was a relief, but the other man was angled too far behind him. He’d have to turn to get a better look and Arthur wasn’t feeling quite that braced just yet.
Merlin was usually fairly trustworthy in these things, though, and he disliked Gaius’s concoctions almost as much as Arthur did. Anyone with sense or taste did.
“Right. Good lad.” Arthur started to nod, but stopped abruptly as that sent the world spinning away in a myriad of swirling colors. He gagged as his stomach protested vehemently.
“Woah, okay. Be still, Arthur.”
“Merlin.” He tugged, trying to get his hands away from the ones that held his pinned to his chest. When had Merlin gotten stronger than he? Was he sick? “Merlin. Listen to me.”
“Yes, sire?”
He paused, trying to grasp at his thoughts through the hazy fog of color. “It’s… Merlin…”
His hands were released and Merlin shifted them around so that Arthur was held gently against his chest, like some sort of maiden Merlin needed to rescue. It was disconcerting and Arthur intended to protest such high handed treatment just as soon as he could figure out how to form the right words.
The thought was lost entirely as the chaotic rainbow of colors was overwhelmed by warm, burnished gold.
It swelled and seeped into everything, bathing Arthur’s world in the soft golden color.
Arthur couldn’t help but reach out a hand, enchanted, to let the pool of gold waft around his fingers gently. It felt like life and love and everything good in the world.
It felt like Merlin.
~*~*~
“There’s no trail at all, Sire. It’s like he was taken away by magic. Just like Prince Arthur.” Ewaine sounded absolutely wretched, but Uther’s mouth simply twisted at the news.
He’d known the sleep was unnatural. He’d never been the sort to sleep deeply when he was on the trail and Arthur’s knights were a diligent lot. If one felt they simply couldn’t push past their exhaustion to stay on guard, they’d have woken up another to take their place.
The king glanced over to where Gaius was staring into the fire again as if it held the answers to all the questions of the world. The physician seemed to have aged years since he’d awoken to find the boy gone from his bedroll and everyone around the campfire in an enchanted sleep.
Uther sighed and nodded to Ewaine. “Keep looking. Sweep further out, but be sure that everyone maintains line of sight with another. We don’t want anyone else disappearing.”
Once the knight had left to pass on his orders, Uther returned to the fire to stand beside Gaius.
“I’ve thought on it, Sire…” Gaius shook his head, looking bleak. “The siren call Merlin’s been following… There are many spells in the Old Religion that call for a sacrifice and one willingly given is truly the most potent. Actual teleportation requires a great deal of energy and concentration. Perhaps the sorcerer’s power wasn’t great enough to take them both at once and he was forced to compel Merlin to follow on his own. Then, given a week to recharge, snatching him up as well would be child’s play, especially if the distance were less.”
Although it pained him to add weight to the man’s concern, Uther had to nod. It did make sense. Arthur’s manservant had proven more than once that he was willing to sacrifice his own life for his prince. It was what the king liked best about the bumbling simpleton, the only reason Uther bothered to remember his name. “Perhaps it is Mercia, after all. They are well aware of the boy’s willingness to die to save Arthur.”
Gaius looked as if he’d swallowed one of his own less palatable potions. “Indeed.”
He wished there were reassurances that he could give Gaius, that he could somehow deny the dire explanation, but even if he could find such empty words to offer his friend, the man knew him far too well to believe them. Of all the scenarios and possibilities they’d considered, this made the most sense. It still didn’t explain what the villains intended to do with Arthur, but everything else lined up.
It was an ugly picture, but reality, he’d found, was seldom pretty.
“Sire! Sire, over here!”
Uther and Gaius shared a look, then the king whirled away, hurtling through the woods towards the sound of Leon’s voice, the physician only seconds behind him.
That had been excitement.
The knights were closer to the camp than he’d expected, Leon and Ewaine crouched over the two still forms of the prince and his manservant. He was sure they’d searched the area thoroughly. He was absolutely certain of it or he wouldn’t have allowed the men to begin widening their search net.
The thought had barely crossed his mind before the remainder of the knights closed in on their position, each drawn back in by Leon’s shout, and they were once again at the full strength of their small rescue party, plus their prince.
His stomach tightened and his eyes scanned the trees, alert for the sorcerer that must have done all of this. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword tightly. Was this all a mad chase just to get them here, in a poorly defensible place?
If so, the moment to attack would have been as the king and his physician had rushed in, concern making them momentarily careless while the knights had been out of any kind of defensive position. That moment had passed and Uther did not intend to drop his guard again.
There was no attack, no sounds other than their own and that of the forest going about its business.
Bloody sorcerers and their bloody complicated and confusing ways.
“Are they-” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question, but it proved to be unnecessary.
Leon shook his head, relief and joy filling his expression. “No, Sire. They’re alive, merely unconscious. They look a bit ragged around the edges and the prince is going to be demanding a bath as soon as he wakes, but they’re both breathing evenly.”
“They just appeared out of nowhere,” Ewaine added, his voice hushed as he continued to check the boy over for injuries. “I walked right over this spot not a minute before. I only turned back at all because I thought I heard something.”
Tapping his shoulder lightly, Gaius took his place, his mask of professionalism not able to hide the tremble in his hands as he gave both a quick field examination or the naked relief in his eyes as he found them to be physically sound. “They suffer no wounds that I can find. Obviously we can’t be sure about their minds or if they suffer from another ailment until they awaken… or don’t awaken, whichever the case may be.”
Uther motioned for the knights to stand guard and dropped to his knees beside his son, allowing a rare moment of tender care to show as he brushed Arthur’s hair back from his forehead. As long as he breathed, there was hope, whatever else the sorcerers must have done. He glanced over at the other boy. Merlin looked far more relaxed than he had for the entire trip, proving that even unconscious, the compulsion had been trying to force him onward. Pushing on non-stop, the manservant would have made the area in half the time.
“Perhaps the delay caused by your potions ruined their spells?”
The physician nodded, following his thought processes easily. “There are many spells that must be performed quickly after preparations are made or at a certain shade of the moon, otherwise their potency are lost.” He sighed. “It makes as much sense as anything else I can think of. Perhaps Arthur will have more to tell us when he awakens. Or Merlin.”
Hesitating, Uther stared at the boy, duel feelings of gratitude and disgust warring with each other. “Is he still touched by magic?”
Gaius’s hands stilled and he looked at Uther with a grave expression. “The compulsion seems to have either been lifted or dissipated naturally, Sire. Obviously, I won’t know anything for certain until he awakens.”
Uther nodded and drew Arthur’s arm over his shoulder, trying not to think of the last time he’d carried his son this way. This was different, he reminded himself.
There was no bloody, dirty under-tunic exposing a life-threatening wound. No reason to believe that pale blue eyes would never open again and he’d be alone, left with nothing but the knowledge that he’d been unable to save the only two people who’d ever truly mattered to him.
“Sire?”
The quiet voice of one of the few trusted friends he had left cut through the dark thoughts and he looked up at the man. There were still so many unanswered questions. Who had kidnapped Arthur and why? What had they done to him in the week they’d held him captive? Why had Merlin been compelled and if it was their best working theory, why allow the compulsion to continue after the time had expired? Did a lingering taint of magic linger in the boy?
What was the point of it all?
And his council…. They were going to have a fit. No one had exactly approved of Uther’s planned rescue, not any single part of it, but especially not the parts about the king going out with little protection and a boy obviously under the influence of magic.
There would be questions about Uther’s willingness to ignore the laws when it suited him. He despised the politics of it all occasionally, missed the days when the law was easily changeable on his whim, when he gave little thought beyond who to conquer next.
How was he going to placate the ones he actually needed?
Gaius arched a brow, a different question on his face than the dozens that were rushing through Uther’s mind and he nodded sharply again, understanding that question intimately, father to father.
The compulsion was gone and Arthur was safe once more. He could be merciful. He could give Gaius this and be damned anyone who dared to question him over it. “Let’s take them home, Gaius.”
~*~*~
When Merlin awoke, his head felt like it was stuffed with muslin. Everything ached, not unlike the morning after a day of being beaten up in one of Arthur’s supposed ‘training’ sessions.
A gentle hand, as familiar as his mother’s, settled on his forehead for a moment and Merlin relaxed. When Gaius spoke, his voice was soft and warm. “How do you feel, Merlin?”
Merlin swallowed, wincing at the dry, raw feeling of his throat. His own voice was cracked and rough. “Like I spent an entire day playing training dummy for Arthur and the knights.”
A second chuckled joined physician’s and Merlin cracked an eye open to see a truly frightening sight at the end of the cot he was resting on - Gaius’s cot, if he wasn’t mistaken. Uther Pendragon stood there, leaning back against a table with his arms crossed, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do than contemplate his son’s mentally afflicted manservant.
Each of his eyes were pried open gently by Gaius as the old man peered at him with gentle concern. Merlin knew enough about the healing arts now, to know that the effects of head injuries and drugs could sometimes be read in the eyes, so he didn’t protest the treatment even though his eyes felt as dry and scratchy as his throat and it hurt a bit.
The physician made a light humming noise and nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the king. “The compulsion is gone, Sire.”
“The wha-” Merlin blinked at them in confusion as Uther nodded in satisfaction.
“Good. I will inform my council and remind them that we are all potential prey to the whims of evil sorcery and that they would not want their own fates dictated by someone else’s actions.”
“Gaius?” He hated the plaintive sound of his voice of his voice. “What’s going on?”
Gaius checked his pulse. “What do you remember?”
“Umm…” He thought back. “There was a feast. Beltane? And I helped Ar… err.. The prince to bed. Then…” His eyes widened and he glanced between them again. The only thing that kept him from springing from the bed and running to check on his friend was the fact that he knew he’d only end up flat on his face if he even tried to sit up. “Arthur. I… we were in the forest. There was stone dais… Is he all right, Gaius?”
He had to be. Surely he’d know if Arthur was gone from the world. He’d feel it, wouldn’t he?
Merlin forced himself to take a calm breath. He couldn’t imagine that Uther would be sitting calmly in the physician’s chamber if his son lay near death elsewhere.
“He’s still unconscious, but has suffered no injury that I can find. Merlin,” Gaius hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Do you remember how you came to be in the forrest? How you found Arthur? Was there anyone there that you noticed? How did you come to be back in the forest where we found you?”
Merlin’s head swam and his eyes closed again, clenching shut against the vision of the old men staring at him intently as if the answers to all of their questions were written out on his forehead. “I don’t know, Gaius. I was here, then I was there, and then I was here again. What happened?”
With only another hesitation, Gaius sighed and brushed his hair off his forehead. “The Beltane feast was nine days ago, Merlin.”
“What?!” Eyes flying open, Merlin started to sit up only to fall back against the cot when the movement disturbed the horses racing about his skull. “Over a week?” he asked weakly.
“Yes, Merlin. The morning after the feast Arthur was found to be missing and you were…” There was another long hesitation, long enough that Merlin forced his eyes open again to try to read the cause on Gaius’s face. Another sigh and Gaius shook his head. With his back more or less to the king, he gave Merlin a significant look, though his voice remained normal. “You were enchanted with a compulsion. Your eyes were glowing gold and you were trying to walk through the wall.”
“I was-” Merlin swallowed hard, hand coming up instinctively to flutter at his neck as his eyes darted to the king. “I… don’t remember that.”
If his eyes were gold, his own magic must have been in play. He’d never known anyone else’s magic to do such a thing.
Even if it wasn’t, to be under the influence of magic was still a death sentence. A mere suspicion of consorting with a magic user could get one thrown into the dungeons. How did he still have his head? His gut clenched with fear and he felt even more faint than he already had.
Uther gave a satisfied nod. He’d obviously noticed Merlin’s reaction and was pleased by it. “Gaius believed you wouldn’t. He’ll have to keep an eye on you, of course. Make sure there isn’t any residual magic left within you, but for now, your life remains your own.”
“Thank you, Sire,” Merlin managed faintly, almost dizzy with genuine gratitude. In Camelot, there was no mercy for even the suspicion of magic. For Uther to ignore it… As far as Merlin knew, he’d only ever done that for Gaius.
The king nodded again and stood. “I’ll take my leave, Gaius. I’ll have you informed as soon as Arthur regains consciousness.”
“Thank you, Sire.” Gaius waited until Uther was gone before he seemed to deflate a little, the pretense and lies that forced him to remain stoic and professional leaving with the king. When he turned back to Merlin, he sighed and shook his hand before taking a seat next to the cot. “Merlin, you are going to be the death of me yet.”
He looked older to Merlin than he ever had before and the sorcerer felt bad that he was taking so many years off of the man’s life.
“I’m sorry, Gaius.”
But Gaius just waved the apology away and smiled. “It’s hardly your fault that you and Arthur attract so much trouble. Usually.” His entire expression softened with fondness. “I’m just glad that you are all right. I was truly afraid that the compulsion would burn you out before we found Arthur.”
“I still don’t understand what happened, Gaius.” Nothing that either man had said made much sense to Merlin, though he thought that some of that might be because his head was still swimming. “I mean… When I managed to get Arthur up and moving, we were fine. There was no one there, so I can’t imagine why we’d end up unconscious.. Well… I mean, Arthur was pretty out of it, but me?”
“Wait…” Gaius sat a hand on his shoulder. “Are you saying Arthur was awake?”
“Well, not at first. Not when I got there.” Merlin had to push away the memory of how still Arthur had been up on the dais, still as death without even the faintest rise and fall of his chest to show that he was breathing. For a long moment, he’d actually believed his prince, his friend to be lost to him. “But yes. He woke up.” He opted not to tell Gaius that he’d slapped the prince. He wasn’t up for a lecture on how one should or should not handle a semi-conscious prince. “He dry heaved a little and he was complaining about.. Colors, or something.”
Gaius got the faraway look that said he was thinking, trying to reason out the details as much through what Merlin didn’t say as what he did. “You’d been running on nothing but magic for a week. It’d be easy enough for a sorcerer of any power to knock you out.”
“Gaius, seriously. There was no one else there, magically inclined or otherwise. Just me and Arthur.” He let his eyes drift closed again. He was so tired. “Perhaps my own magic brought us back to you.”
He didn’t remember it, though, and that bothered him. He’d gotten Arthur free and had been trying to coax him off of the dais. Then… nothing. As he’d said. He’d been there, then he’d been here. No sharp pain to speak of a blow to the head, no voices that could have been spells being cast, not even the dizzying rush of unconsciousness. His memory simply stopped with Arthur curled into him, muttering about colors and softness.
“Now, Merlin. Just because you didn’t see anyone-”
“Ever since the Isle of the Blessed,” he couldn’t quite say ever since I killed Nimueh “I’ve been able to sense magic more, Gaius. Even the small bits in otherwise non-magical people. Sorcerers and druids practically hum with it. Believe me. If anyone else had been there, I’d have known.” He bit his lip and peeked up at the physician again. “Gaius… Arthur was humming with it. I don’t know what they did to him, but magic was all over him.”
Arthur’s particular spark of internal magic had always been a bit stronger than many of those Merlin came into contact with, but this had been very, very different. There’d been more magic coming off of Arthur than there usually was on Gaius or Morgana.
As he gave a small sigh and began to sink back into rest, Merlin wished Gaius didn’t look as disturbed as he felt. That made his own uneasiness more difficult to dismiss.
~*~*~
Uther couldn’t justify sitting by Arthur’s bedside every moment of every day no matter how much he wanted to. Between his decision to lead the rescue party himself, leaving his own knights to guard Camelot while he took the ones that had trained under his son’s hands, and letting the servant live despite being obviously touched by magic for over a week, the nobles were uneasy and restless, wondering if he’d stopped being their king and started just being Arthur’s father.
He’d been forced to spend most of his day listening to them try to dissect who had attacked the prince and why, once more. They’d been circling around it for days, no closer now than when Arthur had initially disappeared. No evil sorcerer had arrived to cackle on about their power over the royal family and though Gaius had said that Arthur had moved from unconsciousness to natural sleep, there’d been no other change in his condition.
His mouth tightened at the thought of the impertinence of some of his nobles - especially the younger lot, the ones whose fathers had served him so faithfully but were now gone, leaving their younglings to be dealt with. None would dare challenge him outright, but he could still see it in their faces and hear it in their voices.
If politics didn’t demand that he needed them… He thumbed the hilt of his sword, wondering if he could arrange a demonstration of why he was still someone they’d be wise to fear and respect. Surely if he culled just one from the herd…
Probably best not to, sadly.
He could almost hear Goloris snorting, ribbing him about letting a bunch of frightened old men and insolent little whelps try to dictate to him. But then, Goloris would have also been the first one to counsel patience and giving warnings about losing his temper and lobbing off heads.
There were days when he missed his old friend as acutely as a limb.
Gaius was a good friend, better than he probably deserved, and he’d made good use of the man’s counsel over the years, but it wasn’t the same. Gaius had never quite been his equal, had always erred on the side of deferential. He wouldn’t dream of slapping Uther in the back of the head and calling him an idiot.
Uther’s lips curled into a slight smile at the thought. He rather suspected that Gaius did dream of it, actually, but simply would never allow himself the pleasure. The physician had always been the proper sort, after all.
His smile grew even further when he entered his son’s room to find Arthur sitting hunched in the center of the bed looking miserable and woebegone, but awake and better yet, alive. “Arthur. I was beginning to think you intended to laze away in bed for an entire month.”
Despite the words, his voice was warm with relief and affection. He wondered what it said about him that his son was only sure of his love in these moments after one of them had brushed too closely to death’s door. He wasn’t sure he wanted to examine that too closely.
Arthur had his head propped on one palm and blinked bleary eyes at him for a moment before his face abruptly lost all color. Almost immediately, the pale skin filled with a vague green tinge, but Uther had recognized that particular expression and had the bucket Gaius had left by the bedside up and in position before Arthur heaved the thin bile of whatever potion he’d been force fed most recently.
“Shhh…” He rubbed a gentle hand up and down the younger man’s back as Arthur clung weakly to the bucket. “It’s all right, Arthur.”
The prince made a noise of mingled disgust and pained disgruntlement, but allowed his father to help him.
“Gaius will be along in a moment, possibly with Merlin in tow.” He hadn’t seen the boy in the few days since he’d woken up and they’d been reassured that the magic hadn’t permanently tainted him, but he knew that Morgana had visited him. She’d mentioned that he was improving now that Gaius could actually get him to eat again and he knew the comfort that could be had in the simple knowledge that one’s most trusted servant was close by. He wasn’t entirely sure he approved of just how close Arthur had allowed their relationship to become - sometimes he despaired of his son ever learning to maintain a proper kingly distance between himself and those around him - but if it eased even a small portion of Arthur’s suffering, then he was willing to overlook it.
“Merrr?” Some of Arthur’s trembling stopped and his eyes had slipped closed as he slumped against his father’s side. Uther gave himself this moment, this one moment in time to revel in his son’s life and trust, to set aside the weight of his crown and simply be Uther, Arthur’s father, instead of Uther, King of Camelot. He let his cheek rest against Arthur’s soft, golden hair and breathed deeply, sending up an unspoken prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening.
“Yes, Arthur. And if he doesn’t bring Merlin, we’ll have him fetched.”
He wondered if these moments might not have been so rare if Ygraine had lived. Would father and son be closer if there’d been mother there to guide them along through the more troubling aspects of any relationship between to such stubborn males?
He pushed away the might have beens to concentrate on the here and now.
~*~*~
Gaius told Uther than he was sure that Arthur was fine, that he just needed time. It hadn’t been that long since the questing beast had poisoned him and the kidnapping and subsequent captivity had knocked his system out of it’s proper working order. There was also the issue of dehydration and Arthur obviously hadn’t gotten properly fed while he’d been unconscious.
Gaius told Uther all of that and Uther believed him without question.
Merlin wasn’t so certain.
He’d stood back, trying to be invisible in a far corner of the room, while Gaius examined Arthur and he’d watched all three of them, but mostly, he’d watched Arthur.
He’d watched an Arthur who was unusually subdued, none of his usual complaints or insistence that there was nothing wrong with him.
As long as his eyes were closed, the prince had only looked the perfectly expected amount of miserable.
As soon as his eyes had opened, he grew pale and his face took on a more pinched look.
If Uther happened to put himself right into Arthur’s line of vision… Then the prince turned a truly fascinating shade of green and his stomach tried to revolt again even though he didn’t even have water in his system any longer.
He was slightly better if it was Gaius, but he still looked more pained and nauseous than if he was looking at no one at all.
And through it all, the magic that Merlin had noticed in the forest hummed underneath, strong enough that he was a little surprised that no one else seemed to be able to feel it.
Eventually, Gaius pulled Uther from the room, assuring him that rest would be the best thing for Arthur and giving Merlin a significant look that said he’d noticed many of the same things the younger sorcerer had and they’d have to speak of it later.
Merlin hovered in the shadows of the room for a moment, watching as Arthur slowly relaxed once the others were out of the room entirely.
“I know you’re there,” the prince called, his voice rough with sickness and disuse. He was still propped up on the pillows, his head tilted back against the wall and his eyes closed. “So you may as well stop hiding.”
The words were still slurred and it was easy to see that speaking was painful. Not that Merlin was particularly surprised. Arthur’s throat had to be as raw as beaten meat. Still, what little he’d been able to push out with Gaius and Uther in the room had been pathetic and mostly insensible. The sorcerer arched a brow as he stepped closer to the bed. “You weren’t this coherent before.”
Arthur threw a baleful look in his general direction. “You try being coherent when-”
Cutting off abruptly, the prince looked away and Merlin ventured even closer, daring to settle on the edge of the bed and raising a hand to Arthur’s brow. As he had in the forest, Arthur simply sighed and leaned against his hand. “When what Arthur?”
But Arthur just shook his head and raised a trembling hand to his eyes. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t ‘nothing’, though, Merlin could tell. He thought back to those moments in the forest, when Arthur had slumped against him. No, more than that… when he’d curled into Merlin like the sorcerer was the only thing safe and stable in the world.
Even now, Arthur was curling towards him instinctively, relaxing under his touch, and his color was improving. The magic humming under his skin had settled down, calm instead of chaotic.
Merlin knew that they were closer than a servant and prince should be. He’d heard enough whispering as he passed other servants to know that. He’d seen the disapproval in Uther’s eyes, knew the king was continuously displeased by the lengths Arthur was willing to go to in order to protect or save Merlin.
Sometimes he even thought, hoped, that they were more. That they’d passed the boundary of simple friendship to the kind of closeness he’d only ever dreamed. He didn’t think he was imagining that Arthur felt the same.
He knew all of that, but it didn’t really account for the sheer depth of comfort that Arthur seemed to be taking in his presence now. This was a purely physical comfort in sharp contrast to the pain and illness caused by Uther and Gaius.
His mentor was forever trying to get him to think in more scientific ways, to look over the evidence and theorize before going with his gut feeling. He’d never been particularly good at it.
Luckily, both his gut and the evidence were leaning him in the same direction this time.
“Does it have anything to do with the colors?” He asked softly, brushing the damp blondee hair back off of Arthur’s forehead.
Pale blue eyes flew open and for the first time, Arthur looked directly at him. He was tense and wary, but there was none of the pain or sickness. “How did you-”
“You mentioned it before, when I found you.”
Arthur swallowed and seemed to hesitate for another moment before nodding slowly. He didn’t seem particularly keen on continuing, though, so Merlin prodded him gently.
“What’s going on, Arthur? We can’t help you if you aren’t honest about it.”
“There’s-” Arthur bit off his words for a moment, judging, weighing what he was trying to say. “Everything is saturated with it. Everyone. And it’s almost.. Alive. It feels.” His eyes slid towards the door, then back to Merlin. “Some of it’s so bright it hurts my eyes, like they’re being stabbed. And some of it’s so dark, it twists my stomach up in knots and makes me ill.”
“Your father and Gaius,” Merlin guessed.
The prince nodded and pushed down into his bed, settling further into his blankets He burrowed into his pillow, looking so much like a lost little boy that Merlin wanted to tuck him in and do anything in his power to protect him from this. “Father was.. Both. Like some kind of twisted, vortex of violent colors. Gaius less so but still not very pleasant.”
Merlin gave in to the urge to tuck the blankets up around Arthur’s chin. “And me?”
That brought the pale gaze back to his face and Arthur stared at him for a long moment. “Golden. You radiate this warm, golden glow that just kind of… chases away all the rest.”
“Oh.” Merlin blinked, completely unprepared for that answer. He didn’t quite know what to do with it.
One of Arthur’s hands came up to clasp Merlin’s wrist and he looked vulnerable in a way that Arthur Pendragon should never look. His voice was hesitant and Merlin suspected that Arthur would rather face down an army of angry dragons than actually speak what was on his mind. He’d never been particularly good at admitting need or asking for help - real help, not the kind of help that was always getting Merlin thrown into the stocks. Merlin wasn’t sure if it said more about the depth of trust Arthur had for him to show him this vulnerability or about how bad he actually felt that he couldn’t hide it. “Stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
Merlin thought it might be a bit of both.
He smiled and brushed a hand back through Arthur’s hair. “Of course, Arthur. As long as you need.”
As if there’d ever been a question that Arthur’s side was where he was meant to be.
~*~*~
Continue on to Part 2