MBB: The Promise Within 4/6
The Promise Within
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~*~*~
They were laughing when they tumbled into the room.
Uther’s hands tightened as he observed the look of joy and freedom on his son’s face. He had a father’s heart underneath his king’s facade and that heart ached at the sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Arthur look so young and happy.
For a moment, he wanted to slip away. He wanted to leave this moment to his son and his servant, to let them have this moment of peace and happiness.
He wanted to un-know what he’d learned. Surely as long as he didn’t know, he couldn’t be expected to do anything about it?
The corners of the book crinkled under the pressure of his hands, the sound somehow seeming far louder than it should have, and the moment was lost.
Both young men halted abruptly.
Uther’s mouth tightened as Merlin edged in front of Arthur, protective and fierce in a way that shouldn’t have suited the boy and yet… somehow seemed perfectly natural. But then, he’d already known that, hadn’t he? Merlin would never have come to his attention at all if the boy wasn’t always throwing himself between Arthur and danger.
It was the one thing about Merlin that he approved of without reservation.
Neither said a word, though Merlin’s own fists were clenching rhythmically as if he were trying to remain as calm as the royals were. It reminded Uther of an incident several days past when he’d stumbled onto the servant preparing to take on the entire kitchen staff just to protect Arthur’s reputation.
Somehow, he excepted that anyone attempting to harm Arthur Pendragon was going to find themselves with quite a fight on their hands there. In spite of everything, the thought that his son had such a man at his side, someone who would willingly do battle with a peasant or a king for him, pleased Uther.
His son had never been the sort to hide behind anyone else, though. Arthur moved Merlin with gentle hands, showing a depth of care that he didn’t even try to hide from Uther’s sharp eyes.
The pair shared a look and Uther didn’t have to understand it to know an entire conversation was passing between them. It had been a lifetime, but he remembered sharing that with someone, that ease of communication, that knowing someone so well that the words were nothing more than useless clutter. It had been too much to hope that his last lesson on letting a servant so close would have stuck.
Facing the level of fierce devotion Merlin showed him, Uther supposed he could understand why it was impossible for Arthur to avoid returning a measure of it, no matter how anyone else felt about it.
A wise king recognized a losing battle when he saw one and quit the field to fight another day.
His son’s unseemly friendship with his servant could be overlooked. Other things could not.
“Hello, Arthur. I came looking for you. Now that you’re on your feet again, Morgana thinks we should hold a banquet to celebrate your safe return and improved health. I agreed. Imagine my surprise to find you gone.”
“Merlin and I went for a hunt, Father,” Arthur replied, his eyes shuttered and his face covered with the mask of regal disdain he’d copied from Uther himself.
“Yes, well. I thought I’d wait here for you.” Uther pushed the book forward, keeping his face carefully neutral. “I did find some interesting things to read while I waited.”
His son paled slightly, but otherwise didn’t react.
Uther gave him points for keeping his calm, but wondered how his son intended to bluff his way out of the situation. “Would you care to explain this?”
“Honestly, Father, would anything I said make a difference at this point?”
Both boys startled when Uther’s hand slammed against the table. “Do not mock me, child.”
Flipping the pages to find the ones in the back, he tapped the familiar handwriting. “Is this, or is this not your writing?”
“You know that it is.” Arthur’s voice was soft.
“Well?” Uther stood then, hands gripping the table edge as he leaned forward and glared at the pair. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You’ve already read it, Father.”
Arthur’s face gave nothing away. Merlin’s was not nearly as blank, but all Uther could really tell was that the boy was concerned, possibly fearful that violence would break out between father and son.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
That was what galled Uther the most, that his son would share this devastating news with servants, with strangers, but would not tell his own father.
“What could I have said, Father? ‘Oh, and by the way, my kidnappers decided to leave me a little parting gift to make sure I remembered them.’ And what could you have done?” Arthur was losing his calm finally, his words sharp and snappish. “It’s done. It can’t be undone.”
“Bollocks. There must be something. Something besides inviting a bloody sorcerer into our kingdom and learning magic.”
“Do you think Gaius didn’t try everything? Do you think he’d leave any stone unturned? Any colleague unasked? Any book unread? It was killing me, Father.”
“Well, actually-”
“Shut up, Merlin. You weren’t the one with your head being turned inside out.” The servant quieted back down as Arthur snapped at him, offering Uther an awkward smile. The prince crossed his arms and glowered. “Another week of it and I’d have starved to death if not just jumped out the bloody window.”
The pointed reminder of his son’s brush with death diffused Uther’s temper and he rubbed a hand over tired eyes. “Arthur. I will send for the best physicians in the land. Someone, somewhere will be able to remove this curse from you.”
“Perhaps it is a curse, but it is a curse I can learn to live with, Father.” Arthur’s own voice dropped back down to a whisper. “It’s not without its uses.”
“Nonsense. Magic does nothing but corrupt and destroy, Arthur. If I’ve taught you nothing else over the years, I’d have thought I taught you that much.” In his mind’s eye, he could see the treacherous witch smiling her pretty smile, offering to fulfill his dearest wish and the tragedy that had befallen them all because he’d allowed himself to be tempted by such false promises.
“Father-”
Uther tucked the book under his arm and drew himself up to his full height. “No more nonsense. I must go see what Gaius has to say for his part in this mess, then I will send for other doctors. You will not use this magic again.”
“Father-”
“Never again, Arthur. You will obey me. I have told you before. We are none of us above the law and you would do well to remember that.”
“But Father-”
There was nothing else to say as far as Uther was concerned. He shut the door soundly behind him and strode off.
There was a physician who had better have a damned good excuse for his actions.
~*~*~
“We knew we couldn’t hide it forever,” Arthur said quietly from where he sat watching Merlin pace the room.
“We could have. You’d be amazed at how people are willing to believe what they want to believe if you don’t leave books laying around for them to find.”
Merlin sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe it had been unrealistic to think that Uther would never find out. There was a vast difference between the amount of attention paid a prince and a servant. And he’d known how keenly Uther had been watching Arthur of late.
The king had almost lost his son twice - three times if one included the sickened withdrawal of the weeks after their return. It was understandable that his attention would not be as easily shifted aside.
Still, he’d hoped.
“It could have been worse, Merlin.” Arthur was calm again, trying to be reasonable.
It made Merlin scowl.
“That is annoying, you know.”
Arthur simply arched a brow and looked politely confused. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”
“That. You’re so bloody calm. Three months ago, you’d be the one pacing and I’d be the one trying to calm you down. Or maybe we’d both be pacing and there wouldn’t be anyone to calm either of us.”
“Three months ago, I wasn’t being forced to meditate every day.” Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “What would you have me do, Merlin? Rail at my fate and hide under my blankets again? As I recall, the last time I did that, you were quite displeased. You’re the one that said I needed to stop crying and accept my fate.”
That had Merlin’s lips twitching and he couldn’t suppress the grin that broke out on his face. It was enough to make him stop pacing and come over to stand in front of Arthur. “That’s not quite what I said.”
“Whatever.” Arthur hesitated a moment before reaching out to tug Merlin closer. Their heads tilted together until Merlin’s forehead rested against Arthur’s. His voice was soft when he continued. “The point is, getting upset isn’t going to fix anything. And it could have been worse. He hasn’t spoken of execution at all. And at least I hadn’t written anything about you as of yet. Well… nothing incriminating, at any rate. Just that you were trying to help me. Maybe a bit about how each aura effects me.” He frowned slightly, obviously trying to remember if he’d as recklessly risked Merlin’s discovery as he had his own. He knew very well most of what Arthur had written having been right there for a lot of it, but he didn’t say anything. He knew it was more about reassuring himself than about reassuring Merlin.
Finally Arthur shrugged again, one hand absently rubbing up and down the sorcerer’s side. “If there’d been anything more, he’d have said.”
Merlin sighed. It was difficult to be aggravated at Arthur when he was like this. “What do we do now?”
Arthur smiled a little, no doubt pleased that Merlin was giving in to his logic. “Now we wait. There’s nothing to be done and my father will realize that soon enough. Then we see if he’ll have me executed after all.”
“He’s more likely to execute Gaius and I for not telling him,” Merlin muttered. He knew exactly where Uther would lay the blame for all of this and it wouldn’t be with Arthur.
There was a moment of hesitation, then Arthur brushed a gentle hand over his cheek. “You know I’d never allow that.”
The sorcerer allowed himself a moment to enjoy the simple, unabashed touch, then he sighed again. “You may not have a choice in the matter, Arthur.”
“If it comes to that, you will escape.”
“Arthur-”
“No, Merlin.” Arthur’s words were fierce and the hand on Merlin’s side tightened. “Promise me. I am well aware of the size and depth of your power, likely better than even you are. If ever there comes a time when my father tries to execute you - or Gaius - do not sit idly by and let it happen. I shall never forgive you if you do.”
“I’ll promise if you promise.”
A surprised snort of laughter escaped the prince. “Fine. We’ll neither of us go willingly to our deaths.” Content with the promise, Arthur sighed and looked at the table where the book had sat until now, his expression mingled annoyance and sadness. “I just wish he hadn’t taken Mother’s book. Writing everything down has been vastly helpful.”
“We’ll get it back,” Merlin promised.
~*~*~
Gaius looked up and sighed when Uther stormed into the room. There was no surprise on his face, no fear, no guilt. There was only resignation.
“You should have told me. He is my son. I had a right to know.”
The physician gestured towards the lone stool but Uther waved it off. He had no desire to sit.
“When he first awoke, I wasn’t sure what ailed him, Sire. When I began to suspect, I searched every bit of knowledge at my disposal, books, other physicians, even the one or two hedgewitches that are still willing to talk to me outside of Camelot. I even consulted the dragon. I had hoped that I would be able to cure him of the magic without anyone ever knowing.” Gaius sighed and shook his head sadly. “But everyone was in agreement. There is no way to undo the effects of the ceremony. Once Arthur was aware of his affliction, he did not want you to know. We agreed that the only solution left to him was to find some way for him to control it.”
Uther’s fists clenched tightly and he whirled around to pace the short length of the physician’s room. “Impossible. There must be something. Everyone has lied to you. This is- They want Arthur to suffer this curse. You can’t trust a word that bloody dragon says.”
He should have had the damned thing put to death.
“Sire, I do not believe that the dragon would lie about this. He would much rather see Arthur ascend to the throne than have you remain on it indefinitely. He does not want to see Arthur put to death over magic.”
For the first time since he’d stormed from Arthur’s chambers, Uther paused, his mind blanking at the very idea. “You think I would have Arthur put to death?”
“Sire…” The expression on Gaius’ face spoke more clearly than words ever could have.
“You do.” Uther had to swallow back the bile that threatened to rise in the back of his throat at the realization that Gaius, the closest thing he had to a friend, the man who’d stood beside him for over twenty years, thought him capable of such a thing. “You think I’d kill my own son.”
Did that mean Arthur believed it as well?
Suddenly his son’s reticence in the matter made a certain sick amount of sense.
“I have seen you do horrible things in your hatred for magic. Having Arthur executed would not be the worst.” Gaius’ tone wasn’t accusing, but when had it ever been? He simply stated the truth as he saw it and let Uther draw his own conclusions about how Gaius actually felt about it.
“I see… perhaps that was the point to all of this, then. If you believe me capable of it, it’s likely his attackers do as well.”
“It would be an all around ideal situation in the view of some,” Gaius conceded with a nod. “Either you execute the most beloved member of the monarchy, something that would surely cause the people to rise against you, or they successfully put magic back into the castle.”
Neither option was acceptable. “You will fix him. You will find a way to rid him of this cursed magic.”
Gaius gave him a bland look. “I have no more books to consult, Sire. I can continue making inquiries, spread my net further, so to speak, but I’ve exhausted my more discreet contacts. Anything else will cause word to get out. Then you will have to make a choice.”
Uther understood. If the people knew that Arthur was capable of magic, Uther would be forced to enforce his own laws or blatantly ignore them to save his son. He’d have to choose between being a king or being a father.
Pressing his fingers against his eyelids, Uther struggled under the weight of his crown and the impossible dilemma he was faced with. He could not allow magic to flourish in his own household and he could not, would not be forced to watch his only son, his last connection to his beloved Ygraine, die.
If Arthur’s curse could not be lifted…
“He could be exiled…” The very idea caused a twisting pain in Uther’s gut, the idea that he could be forced to send Arthur away, never to see him again until they reached whatever afterlife awaited the kings of the land. It was almost more than could be bourne, but it was better than allowing Arthur to die.
“I fear that would be only slightly better than executing him in the eyes of your people, sire. If you exile him, there will be talk. Everyone will know. He did not seek this magic out. It was drawn from his blood, from Ygraine’s bloodline. They will see that he suffers for it, and then they will see that you would punish him for it and add to that suffering.” With an arched brow, Gaius shrugged. “Some will look at it as a good thing. A sign that you do not put your own son above them.” He paused and shook his head. “But most will not. Most will look at Arthur and see the young prince that they’ve watched grow to a man, who has nearly died to protect them a dozen times over. They will look at Arthur and see their own sons and daughters and they will think, ‘if the king’s own son is not safe, who is?’. They will look at you and they will wonder what kind of man could do such a thing to his own son.”
In a fit of frustrated temper, Uther knocked his fist into the pestle and mortar that sat upon the table. When that was not enough to calm him, he swiped at a stack of books.
Gaius merely arched a brow. “Do you feel better, Sire?”
Glowering, Uther restrained the urge to knock over the beakers that lined another table. He knew well enough that some of Gaius’ experiments could be harmful when mixed. It was tempting, though. “What do you suggest we do, then?”
“I suggest that we allow Arthur to learn control. After he has mastered that, he can choose not to use it. No one will ever know.”
Uther sat abruptly on the stool he’d spurned previously. He rubbed grit from his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “He’s young. He doesn’t understand that magic has dangerous consequences. Of course he’ll use it.”
“I think that you don’t give your son enough credit. He’s grown quite a lot over the last year. He won’t take frivolous chances. He knows that people depend upon him.”
“Perhaps not frivolous chances,” Uther conceded. But he knew his son better than most would have assumed. He might not always have been the best father, distant and colder than he should have been, than he’d wanted to be, but he’d always been observant. “But if he thought it would help him protect the people, do not doubt for one moment he’d use it without a second thought for what it might cost him.”
“A wise leader uses the weapons available to him, Sire.”
“You’ve never agreed with my feelings on magic.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Gaius shrugged. “Magic is neither good nor evil, Sire. It simply is. It is the wielder who makes the choice to use it for one or the other. I’ve told you before that it isn’t the magic itself that corrupts. It’s the feeling of power and invulnerability, the knowledge that one can place oneself above other men that rots ones soul. It is the same as any other kind of power. I do not believe that Arthur would succumb to such things.”
Uther wondered if that was Gaius’ veiled way of saying that he believed that Uther had succumbed to such things.
“Make your inquiries, Gaius. Discreetly.” Uther stood abruptly, weary of the conversation, weary of magic in general. He dearly wished that the cowardly magical threats of the world would stop hurting his son to get to him. The entire business just made him feel old and tired. “Send the auramancer away. If he is still in the castle by morning, I will have him arrested on suspicion of magic. Arthur will have to make do with whatever he’s managed to learn.”
Gaius dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, Sire.”
At the door, Uther paused. “And Gaius. Do not keep such things from me again. Next time, I may arrest you.”
~*~*~
The night was still and dark as they walked Gilius to the gates of Camelot. Neither of them trusted that Uther would not try to stop the auramancer, regardless of his words to Gaius.
Arthur offered a half-smile as he handed his tutor the reigns to one of Camelot’s finest steeds. “I’m sorry that it ends like this, Sir Gilius. I would have liked to have learned more. If it were up to me, you’d not be leaving.”
“It has been an honor, my lord.” Gilius bowed low with deference. “You will make a fine king and I consider it a privilege to have been allowed to teach you anything at all.” When he straightened once more, he returned Arthur’s smile. “You have all the basic tools to make an equally fine auramancer. The flourishes can be learned through trial and error, though remember what I said about moderation.”
Beside them, Merlin gently rubbed the horse’s nose and tried not to intrude more than he had to. He knew that he still made Gilius more nervous than not.
“Lord Emrys,” the auramancer turned to him and offered another bow. “I’m pleased to have met you.” His smile when he was looking at Merlin again was sheepish. “Please forgive my less than graceful self in your presence.”
With a laugh, Merlin held out a hand. He was pleased that Gilius didn’t hesitate to return the clasp. He hadn’t gotten to know the man very well, but he’d forever be grateful for the difference he’d made for Arthur. “It’s all right. I’ve never quite effected anyone like that. It was a… novel experience.”
He gave Gilius a leg up into the saddle and Arthur handed up his bag. “Be safe, and remember. Try not to stop until you are well across the border. I fear my father may have men on your heels at first light.” He sighed and offered the other an apologetic look. “When I am king, you will be welcome here once more.”
Gilius smiled at them. “I expect to hear great tales of the two of you. King Arthur and his great Sorcerer Merlin. You’re both everything that prophecy promised and more.”
“Farewell, Gilius.”
“Farewell, my lords.”
They stood back, side by side, and watched the auramancer set off at a quick pace. They stayed there in silence until he was well out of sight.
“You were right, you know,” Arthur said softly, nudging Merlin’s arm with an elbow.
Merlin glanced at him curiously, but Arthur was still staring into the dark forest. He wondered what the prince was seeing, what the living forest looked like to an auramancer’s eyes. Reading the books to Arthur, he’d learned that all things pulsed with life energy, even things he wouldn’t have originally considered ‘alive’. It wasn’t magic per se, but Merlin had begun to wonder if Arthur was seeing the manifestation of what he could sense. He’d meant to ask Gilius once the auramancer was more comfortable around him. The books never really clarified the differences or similarities.
As Arthur had complained, the books were woefully short sighted on what a student might actually need to know.
He would have bet a month’s worth of pay that whatever Arthur was seeing was beautiful.
“Right about what, Sire?” His own voice was just as soft as his companion’s, unwilling to break the quiet more than necessary.
Arthur finally looked at him, warmth in his smile. “Training. It was a good idea.”
“Well-”
“Of course, statistically speaking, even you have to be right on occasion.”
“Oy!” Merlin laughed and pushed his prince lightly. “Prat.”
Arthur’s laughter was softer and he pulled Merlin into a quick hug before pushing him away with a serious look. “When I am king, I will lift the ban on magic. Sorcerers and other magic users will be subject to the same basic laws as everyone else and anyone who causes harm to Camelot will be handled without mercy, but… simply possessing the power should not be a death sentence. Men like Gilius… Men like you should not live in such fear.”
“I have always said that you will be a great king,” Merlin whispered, clasping Arthur’s forearm and refusing to be pushed away entirely. “It is not just words, you know. I truly believe it, Arthur.”
The smile he got in return was small but pleased. “Thank you, Merlin.”
~*~*~
“Was the king horribly furious with you?” Merlin asked over breakfast.
Gaius arched a brow at him, then sighed. “Uther is frightened. He does not react well to things that frighten him. I am well versed on handling him in such a condition.” His mouth turned down in a severe frown. “However did he find out? I thought you’d both know to be careful.”
“He found the book.” He shrugged. “Arthur left it on his table and Uther came looking for him while we were out.”
If Merlin had thought about it, he’d have warned Arthur not to leave such a thing sitting out where anyone could find it, but honestly, he’d have thought Arthur was smart enough to realize that all on his own. He should have considered the prince’s arrogance and innate sense of self-entitlement.
“Foolish, but I suppose it was inevitable.” Gaius shook his head. “I notice that you’ve not been thrown onto a pyre.”
Quirking a grin at him, Merlin shrugged again. “Arthur has been writing about auramancy and his experiences with it so far. And he’s not so foolish as to write down names and implicate anyone else.”
He knew that Arthur had been avoiding writing about the color of Merlin’s aura, other than to say it was soothing. Arthur had said he highly doubted that any future auramancers were going to find themselves drowning in Merlin.
Merlin had teased him for days for that particular turn of phrase and the possessive way it had been said, much to the prince’s disgust.
They were moving towards something, slowly, ever so slowly, but as inevitably as anything else in their lives.
“He wants to tell Morgana,” Merlin said, carefully keeping his eyes averted, knowing his mentor would not be pleased by the news.
There was a long moment of silence, then Gaius sat down his spoon. “What, exactly, does he wish Morgana to know?”
“Everything. Look, Gaius. I know you believe that hiding the truth is protecting her, but she has a right to know. It’s her life that’s being effected.” Merlin hadn’t allowed himself to really consider it very deeply, but he thought Arthur was right. There were times to lie and times to be truthful, he’d learned well enough since he’d come to Camelot, but some truths should never be covered up completely. Morgana had a right to know about the magic flowing through her veins. Merlin couldn’t imagine what his life might have been if his mother had tried to hide his own from him, had tried to convince him that the random bursts of unexplainable things that happened around him were nothing more than his imagination. Bad enough that she’d kept the knowledge of his father from him. Even though he knew why she’d done it, that still hurt badly.
It wasn’t quite the same thing, he knew, but he couldn’t help but sympathize with Morgana every time she looked at him with fearful eyes. It felt awful, knowing the truth that could soothe that fear and having to hold it back.
“Merlin… If Uther finds out-”
“He won’t. It’s fine enough for him to continue thinking she suffers from night terrors. There’s no need for him to question it. And it’s not like she’s cocky enough to just leave incriminating books lying about for the king to find.”
Gaius sighed and shook his head. “This could go so horribly wrong, Merlin.”
“Perhaps, but I think maybe… it was starting to go wrong already.” He remembered the way she’d looked after the questing beast, after he’d made his deal with Nimueh, when she’d tried to warn him that the danger was not passed. “If I’d listened to her, if I’d dared to let her warn me properly, rather than kept up the pretense of disbelieving her, then maybe the mess with Nimueh could have been handled better.”
“I doubt any amount of warning could have helped with that particular mess,” Gaius said, sounding old and resigned. “You have a singular knack for attracting trouble, Merlin. You are as close to a son as I’ve ever had or wanted, but I swear, you’ll be the death of me yet.”
Though Merlin laughed, he sincerely hoped not.
~*~*~
Things became much more tense around his father after the discovery. Not wanting the news to get out any further than it already had, Uther had demanded that Gaius show him every response he’d received from his initial inquiries. Then, he’d sent out messengers far and wide, looking for books of magic and ancient rituals.
Most assumed that this was a sign of a fresh wave of purging and villagers and scholars alike grew more cautious and fearful.
If anyone had such a book or knowledge in their possession, no one was talking.
A predictable result, in Arthur’s opinion, though Uther didn’t seem to grasp why no one wanted to admit to having such a tie to magic, even with a promise that the owners would not be put to trial for witchcraft. Promises tended to ring false when given by someone who was well known for believing that magic users deserved no such consideration.
It was hard to watch Uther become more and more agitated as his queries turned up nothing.
The king was always careful to make sure Arthur knew that he wasn’t responsible for what had happened, always careful to make sure that Arthur knew that he hadn’t given up.
As he stood on one of the castle’s guard stations, watching another rider return with nothing more than a disheartened aura wafting from him, Arthur felt his father approach.
“Arthur…” Uther hesitated a moment before putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, as always more demonstrative when he felt Arthur’s well-being was at risk than he was at any other time. “We’ll fix this. Have faith.”
Arthur watched the colors around the king darken and swirl, the man’s doubtful pain and bitter, hateful anger, overwhelming everything else, and wished that he could go back to his previous oblivion. He didn’t want to know that his father’s hatred of magic was in a constant battle with his familial affection for Arthur.
He wished Gilius hadn’t been sent away so soon.
The book had hinted that an aura could be cleansed of the negativity that was polluting it, but unsurprisingly, it seemed to be one of those things that it just assumed that he would already know.
He wanted so badly to heal his father, to take away all of that pain and rage and guilt. Knowing that he could have, if only he’d had the knowledge of how… that was one of the most painful things he’d ever had to accept.
~*~*~
The book sat, heavy but innocuous enough, in a pile of many books.
Merlin probably would not have noticed at all if he hadn’t felt his own magical signature when he’d entered the king’s rooms. As it was, he was very hard pressed not to give himself away by staring directly at it.
“And how can I help you today, Merlin?” Uther asked, from where he sat at his own table, quill in hand. There were rolls of parchment at his elbow. Messages, Merlin assumed. At least some of them probably related to the actual running of the kingdom, but he knew that most were probably more inquiries into Arthur’s new magic.
Though some of his previous terror of the king had faded now that he had Arthur’s orders about possible executions, the truth was that Merlin still preferred not to put himself in the man’s direct line of sight when he could avoid it.
Even without potential magical discovery, Merlin knew that Uther would dearly love to remove the servant his son was so attached to and that threat held an even greater power over Merlin than any other would have.
“Umm… My apologies for disturbing you, Sire,” Merlin forced out, only going as far into the room as he absolutely had to in order to avoid offending the king. “Arthur is umm… Gaius has given the prince permission to rejoin training and he would like to relay an invitation to come down to the field if… if you’re not too busy. Sire.”
Uther leaned back in his chair, arching a brow. He stared at Merlin for far longer than was really necessary and it was all the sorcerer could do not to just flee the room. He was about to lose that particular internal battle when the king finally chose to speak. “You knew of my son’s ailment, did you not?”
Merlin’s mind went into a gibbering tailspin, completely uncomprehending. no no nonononono please don’t send me away don’t kill me please please nonononono
The older man arched a brow, but seemed to guess at Merlin’s sudden attack of muteness. “I do not ask in order to trap you into incriminating yourself, Merlin. You will not be punished. You have my word on it.”
For a moment, Merlin stayed silent, but finally he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, Sire. I knew.”
Uther nodded, looking unsurprised. “And it doesn’t bother you? To know that magic has been forced on your master?”
“Sire…” Merlin bit his lip, considering how best to answer that. Finally, he sighed and looked at the king, far more directly than was probably acceptable. “It bothers me that someone stole him away and … did this. That…he was so sick from it. It bothers me that he suffers through something he was never meant to suffer through. And it really bothers me that I couldn’t protect him from it, that I couldn’t step in and ... ‘Drink the poison’, so to speak.”
He remembered how Arthur had looked up on that dais, still as death, and how miserable he’d been as he huddled in bed, afraid to even look at anyone else.
It was his job to protect Arthur from the magical things that would seek him out and do him harm and he’d failed, spectacularly. He tried not to think about it, especially around Arthur, but Merlin hated himself a little for being so useless in the face of this attack.
“Even if it would have meant your death?” Uther’s face gave nothing away, but Merlin held his ground, confident in his conviction when it came to Arthur.
“If it spared his? Yes, your highness.”
“No hesitation at all? Some might call you a fool.”
Merlin’s lips quirked in a grin and he looked down for a moment. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Yes, I suppose you have.” There was a long moment of silence before Uther sighed and continued. “You’ve also managed to side-step the actual question quite nicely, answering only the most literal part of it. Very… political of you, but I must insist on an answer. Does this magic of Arthur’s not bother you?”
“No, Sire.” Merlin’s voice was calm and steady. He refused to shy away from this, whether the king wanted him to or not. “Magic or no magic, I will serve Arthur Pendragon until the day that I die and do so happily.”
Uther’s gaze grew sharper, his eyes narrowing as he considered Merlin’s words. Merlin could tell that he was turning the declaration over in his mind, though he couldn’t tell towards what end. Did the king want his own distaste and fear echoed from everyone else?
Merlin wouldn’t give him that.
The king stood and stalked over to where Merlin stood. The urge to flinch returned, but he held his ground. “Your devotion to my son is truly… remarkable. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the like in a servant before. Not even for me as king.”
Arthur Pendragon was the only king that Merlin would ever serve, but he didn’t see any need to point that out, not with Uther standing over him like some great predator, poised to strike if the mood moved him to do so.
He shrugged, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. He didn’t want Uther to somehow get the idea that he was just mouthing platitudes. “Some men run from their destiny. Some tolerate it. I choose to embrace mine whole-heartedly.”
The silence lingered for a long moment before Uther nodded slowly. Returning to the table, the king capped the inkpot he’d been using. “I see. Well, take these down to my porter. They need to be sent immediately. I will not risk the prince’s life on the hope that everyone will share your sentiments. I believe that I shall go see Arthur take to the training fields after all.”
“Of course, Sire.” Merlin bowed low and held the pose until Uther’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. Even then, he straightened cautiously.
No matter how innocent or pointed the topic was, talking to Uther always made him feel out of sorts and anxious. It was an endless test and failure meant death. Or separation from Arthur, which honestly, frightened him more.
With a sigh, he moved to scoop up the small bundle of missives.
It was only as Merlin was starting to leave, trying very hard not to drop or crumple any of the rolled parchments that he remembered the book. He paused in the doorway, hovering uncertainly before looking back at it.
It was Arthur’s book, after all, so it couldn’t really be considered stealing, right?
Merlin wondered if the logic would save his neck if he got caught, but didn’t let the threat of future death and dismemberment stop him from snagging it quickly and spelling another to look like it.
With any luck, Uther would never notice that it had been returned to it’s proper owner.
~*~*~
The conversation with Morgana was something that Merlin was dreading, but by the time the confrontation finally arrived, he didn’t feel as bad about it as he could have.
It helped, he knew, that Arthur had a keen mind for strategy and knew their quarry well enough to guess her reactions to most things and also that Gaius had a fair bit of experience in offering half-truths. Deflecting queries and assumptions in the right direction had become somewhat of a specialty for him.
Arthur invited Morgana - and by extension, Gwen, though Gaius had cautioned against letting the tale go further than absolutely necessary - to a quiet dinner in his room. Since he’d started gaining control of his new gifts, that in itself wasn’t unusual. Morgana had dined with him many times and she’d accepted the invitation without a second thought.
For his part, Merlin fetched up all of Morgana’s favorite dishes from the kitchens and had set Arthur’s table carefully, paying attention to details as he very seldom did.
When the ladies arrived, Morgana actually stopped and blinked at the settings in confusion before turning to Arthur with an arched brow.
The table was set for four, though Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur honestly expected him to be able to eat with his stomach turning in knots as it was.
The entire thing could go pear-shaped if Morgana asked the wrong question or if Arthur had miscalculated any of her probable reactions. Merlin was a far better liar than most people would have given him credit for, but truthfully, there were certain people and certain lies that he knew he’d never be able to force past his lips. Not now. Not once he’d given way to the idea of honesty between the four of them.
He’d wanted that for too long to be able to lie about it now.
He held out the chair for Gwen, who looked to her mistress with hesitation. Morgana was too engaged in her stare down with Arthur to actually notice, though and Merlin gave his friend a strained smile, silently begging her to go along with this no matter how strange it might seem to her.
It was Arthur, who tipped the tableau between them, moving to the table and pulling out the chair beside Gwen. “Please, Morgana. I’ve important things to talk about and it concerns them as well.”
Her dark eyes narrowed further for a moment before she sighed and took her seat gracefully. “Really, Arthur. You could have said. It’s not as if Gwen and I don’t share supper in my room on occasion. What would you have done if I’d given her the night off?”
“Sent Merlin to fetch her, of course,” Arthur said with something of a pompous air. The attempt at prattishness lost some of it’s effectiveness when he winked at Merlin.
It did serve to relax the atmosphere as Gwen couldn’t quite suppress her huff of amusement while Merlin rolled his eyes.
His nerves were still jangling about horribly, though and his hands shook as he made to pour the wine.
Strong, tanned fingers settled over his own pale ones tightening briefly in reassurance. “It’s all right, Merlin. I’m sure we can all handle pouring for ourselves.”
Merlin swallowed hard and nodded tightly, settling down into the chair beside Arthur. The position brought to mind camaraderie over a camp fire and long nights under the stars with no castle etiquette to maintain, no distance between them, be it physical or social. The familiarity helped him relax slightly and he offered Morgana a more genuine smile where she was staring at their byplay through narrowed eyes.
“All right, Arthur. What is this all about?”
“I thought we could have a nice dinner first, Morgana.”
She sat both hands on the table, palm down, and the expression on her face was completely implacable.
Finally, Arthur sighed and dipped his head in acquiescence. “Very well.”
Merlin felt the prince’s eyes brush over him, but he refused to look up from the table. He was willing to share this information, was even glad to do so. That didn’t mean his stomach wasn’t roiling unpleasantly at the task itself. His mother had drilled it into his head from a very young edge that the more people who knew of his gifts, the more danger he’d be in, the more danger they’d be in.
It was hard to break a life time of training, even for a good cause. Even when he wanted to.
The warmth of Arthur’s thigh pressed against his own, comfort and reassurance spreading between them as Arthur told the story as they’d planned it.
He explained the truth of his kidnapping and the ancient ritual Gaius believed had been used. His voice wavered slightly as he told of the magic that had run in the veins of his mother’s family and how it had been forced to the surface.
Merlin leaned in even closer, his shoulder settling against Arthur’s, hoping that Arthur could take the same measure of comfort from him that he’d always taken from Arthur.
It seemed to be enough. Arthur’s voice steadied as he told of the debilitating magic and Gilius answering the plea from Gaius to come and save the prince of Camelot. Merlin had bite back the urge to remind Arthur that he hadn’t really been dying, no matter how much he’d thought he was.
It made the story sound better, made Arthur sound more like a hero suffering bravely and less like the sulky child he’d been emulating.
Certainly, it seemed to have the women wringing their hands in sympathy. Merlin could see the urge to mother Arthur welling up in the both of them, even though he was obviously fine again.
His mother’s book and Uther’s subsequent discovery made everyone tense, as if simply uttering his name could somehow summon the man himself to the chamber.
Both women remained mostly silent through the tale, Morgana only asking occasionally for clarification.
“So you’ve magic now,” Morgana finally said, drawing the words out as if she were tasting them on her tongue, testing the sound of them.
Arthur dipped his head slightly, his expression as serious as Merlin had ever seen it.
For her part, Gwen was quiet, eyes going between their masters. She did not seem any more nervous around Arthur than she ever had, thankfully.
Of course, Arthur hadn’t told them about Merlin yet.
Morgana pursed her lips slightly, her eyes challenging. “Prove it.”
This was the tricky part, of course. Arthur didn’t know a lot of provable spells yet other than very basic healing. Gilius hadn’t really been around long enough to teach him more than basic control techniques and small things involving his own aura. Another auramancer would be able to instantly see what he was doing, but even Merlin could often only tell that he was using the magic, not what he was actually doing with it.
But this was what Arthur had anticipated. It was the lead in he was looking for.
“You’re a Seer, Morgana. Your dreams and nightmares… They’re not just dreams and nightmares, they’re visions.” Arthur held her gaze steadily, and her own shaky scoff of dismissal died quickly in the face of his seriousness.
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. This auramancy stuff allows me to see the magic that surrounds you. You glow indigo, Mogana, the color of the Sight.” He paused for a moment and shrugged with a small smile. “It’s quite lovely, actually.”
Her mouth turned down, her expression showing the beginnings of hostile defensiveness. “You don’t-”
“I’m hardly going to turn you in, now am I? Besides, yours isn’t the only magic hiding in this castle, Morgana, and I’ll have no one else dying for it if I can help it.”
Merlin couldn’t help but flinch slightly, staring hard at the dark grain of the table. He didn’t want to see their expressions, didn’t want to know if they’d guessed or not. He thought he could feel their eyes on him, but that could have been simple projection. He certainly wasn’t going to look to find out for certain.
“You still haven’t proven anything, Arthur.” Her words were calm again, though, and he thought the protest was more for show than for actual disbelief. Magic was no joking manner in Camelot and even Arthur wouldn’t make light of it, not when such jokes could get innocent people executed out of hand.
“Trying my hand at anything that you could visibly see could be dangerous, Morgana. I wouldn’t expect a novice swordsman to show off skills he hasn’t mastered yet.”
For a long moment, Morgana was silent, considering. “I don’t.. Disbelieve you. But surely you can see that-”
Whatever she was going to say cut off abruptly as the ewer of wine calmly rose from the table and made a circuit of all their cups, filling each one carefully to the brim before moving on to the next.
This time Merlin knew everyone was staring at him.
Once they stopped staring at the ewer, that is.
“Merlin?”
Swallowing hard, the sorcerer forced himself to look up at Gwen’s wide eyes. He could see her quick mind working things out, coming to the conclusions he’d known he’d have to face, the truths he’d have to admit. “I’m sorry.”
Even more than the secrets he’d kept from Morgana, the secrets he’d kept from Gwen had eaten at him. He’d never forgive himself for how close she’d come to being burned for his crime any more than he’d forgive himself for not figuring out how to save her father the second time.
He should have been able to keep her safe, to protect her.
Arthur’s knee pressed against his, more tightly than before.
Merlin wasn’t sure if he deserved that comfort, but he took it gladly.
He took a deep breath and shrugged, wrapping both hands around his now-full cup. “I was born this way. Gaius is a friend of my mother’s. She sent me to him when she realized it couldn’t be hidden in Ealdor any longer. I didn’t want to lie to everyone. It’s just… safer, you know? Safer for everyone.”
“It was you… when my father was ill.” There was no censure in her words, but Merlin couldn’t help but flinch away from them nonetheless.
“Ye-” His voice cracked slightly and he had to clear his throat and nod. “Yes.”
“Oh, Merlin…” Gentle hands, soft despite the calluses of their class, settled on his own, pulling them from the cup he’d been clutching at so desperately. “Thank you.”
Eyes flying upwards, Merlin stared at the sweet smile she was offering, as if she didn’t understand that it had been his fault. “But I- Gwen you were almost executed.”
“But Merlin-” she replied, mocking him teasingly. “You saved my father. I had months more with him that I’d have not had otherwise.” Her hands tightened around his and she raised them to her lips for a soft kiss. “And for that, I will be forever grateful.”
His throat worked, but he couldn’t seem to force out any sound and his eyes felt suspiciously damp.
Arthur chuckled and nudged him. “Are you crying, Merlin?”
“Oh shut up,” he huffed, nudging the other man back. “‘M not crying.”
“You are,” Arthur teased, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him close to rub knuckles through his hair. The prince’s touch was gentle despite the show of rough-handling, though. “Really, Merlin. Sometimes you’re such a girl.”
“Says the prat who literally sees the world in pretty pastels now,” Merlin growled in return, almost dizzy with relief to have his biggest secret out in the open with the people who mattered most to him.
If Gwen had turned away from him, it would have put a crack in his heart that would have never quite healed. He’d have understood, of course he would have. But understanding would not have eased the blow at all.
Morgana snorted at his words and he dared a glance at her when he managed to get his head away from Arthur’s grip. She looked much as she usually did, regal and proud. There was also a gleeful glint in her eyes as she smiled. “Pastels, Arthur? Really? How adorable.”
“It’s not all pastels.” The tone was aggrieved, but Merlin suspected Arthur was just as relieved as he was. “Just… some of it. Gwen is a fair bit pastel… for earthy tones, at any rate.”
Eyes dropping to her arms, Gwen considered her skin for a moment. “Is it because-”
“No. It’s not got anything to do with that. Gaius is earthy tones as well. Bit more on the green side. That’s because his mind turns towards knowledge and healing. It’s…” Arthur bit his lip, considering how best to explain it. “Like… Morgana carries the color of the Seer, Merlin is… well. It’s mostly his magic, I suppose. I can’t really see underneath it to anything else.” His hands gestured expansively, obviously trying to explain the sheer depth and size of Merlin’s magic. “There’s nothing pastel about it, though. Just… gold. Very, very gold.”
“Can you see your own?” Morgana asked, clearly fascinated now. “What color are you? Pink? Oh please tell me that you are pink.”
Merlin couldn’t help but snicker at the way Arthur gaped at her. Across from him, Gwen was managing it, but only just.
Leaning back, he watched Arthur sputter as Morgana teased and Gwen fought to cover her own amusement at them.
This, he thought, was home.
And for once, the threat of the executioner seemed very far away.
~*~*~
continued in Part 5
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
~*~*~
They were laughing when they tumbled into the room.
Uther’s hands tightened as he observed the look of joy and freedom on his son’s face. He had a father’s heart underneath his king’s facade and that heart ached at the sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Arthur look so young and happy.
For a moment, he wanted to slip away. He wanted to leave this moment to his son and his servant, to let them have this moment of peace and happiness.
He wanted to un-know what he’d learned. Surely as long as he didn’t know, he couldn’t be expected to do anything about it?
The corners of the book crinkled under the pressure of his hands, the sound somehow seeming far louder than it should have, and the moment was lost.
Both young men halted abruptly.
Uther’s mouth tightened as Merlin edged in front of Arthur, protective and fierce in a way that shouldn’t have suited the boy and yet… somehow seemed perfectly natural. But then, he’d already known that, hadn’t he? Merlin would never have come to his attention at all if the boy wasn’t always throwing himself between Arthur and danger.
It was the one thing about Merlin that he approved of without reservation.
Neither said a word, though Merlin’s own fists were clenching rhythmically as if he were trying to remain as calm as the royals were. It reminded Uther of an incident several days past when he’d stumbled onto the servant preparing to take on the entire kitchen staff just to protect Arthur’s reputation.
Somehow, he excepted that anyone attempting to harm Arthur Pendragon was going to find themselves with quite a fight on their hands there. In spite of everything, the thought that his son had such a man at his side, someone who would willingly do battle with a peasant or a king for him, pleased Uther.
His son had never been the sort to hide behind anyone else, though. Arthur moved Merlin with gentle hands, showing a depth of care that he didn’t even try to hide from Uther’s sharp eyes.
The pair shared a look and Uther didn’t have to understand it to know an entire conversation was passing between them. It had been a lifetime, but he remembered sharing that with someone, that ease of communication, that knowing someone so well that the words were nothing more than useless clutter. It had been too much to hope that his last lesson on letting a servant so close would have stuck.
Facing the level of fierce devotion Merlin showed him, Uther supposed he could understand why it was impossible for Arthur to avoid returning a measure of it, no matter how anyone else felt about it.
A wise king recognized a losing battle when he saw one and quit the field to fight another day.
His son’s unseemly friendship with his servant could be overlooked. Other things could not.
“Hello, Arthur. I came looking for you. Now that you’re on your feet again, Morgana thinks we should hold a banquet to celebrate your safe return and improved health. I agreed. Imagine my surprise to find you gone.”
“Merlin and I went for a hunt, Father,” Arthur replied, his eyes shuttered and his face covered with the mask of regal disdain he’d copied from Uther himself.
“Yes, well. I thought I’d wait here for you.” Uther pushed the book forward, keeping his face carefully neutral. “I did find some interesting things to read while I waited.”
His son paled slightly, but otherwise didn’t react.
Uther gave him points for keeping his calm, but wondered how his son intended to bluff his way out of the situation. “Would you care to explain this?”
“Honestly, Father, would anything I said make a difference at this point?”
Both boys startled when Uther’s hand slammed against the table. “Do not mock me, child.”
Flipping the pages to find the ones in the back, he tapped the familiar handwriting. “Is this, or is this not your writing?”
“You know that it is.” Arthur’s voice was soft.
“Well?” Uther stood then, hands gripping the table edge as he leaned forward and glared at the pair. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You’ve already read it, Father.”
Arthur’s face gave nothing away. Merlin’s was not nearly as blank, but all Uther could really tell was that the boy was concerned, possibly fearful that violence would break out between father and son.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
That was what galled Uther the most, that his son would share this devastating news with servants, with strangers, but would not tell his own father.
“What could I have said, Father? ‘Oh, and by the way, my kidnappers decided to leave me a little parting gift to make sure I remembered them.’ And what could you have done?” Arthur was losing his calm finally, his words sharp and snappish. “It’s done. It can’t be undone.”
“Bollocks. There must be something. Something besides inviting a bloody sorcerer into our kingdom and learning magic.”
“Do you think Gaius didn’t try everything? Do you think he’d leave any stone unturned? Any colleague unasked? Any book unread? It was killing me, Father.”
“Well, actually-”
“Shut up, Merlin. You weren’t the one with your head being turned inside out.” The servant quieted back down as Arthur snapped at him, offering Uther an awkward smile. The prince crossed his arms and glowered. “Another week of it and I’d have starved to death if not just jumped out the bloody window.”
The pointed reminder of his son’s brush with death diffused Uther’s temper and he rubbed a hand over tired eyes. “Arthur. I will send for the best physicians in the land. Someone, somewhere will be able to remove this curse from you.”
“Perhaps it is a curse, but it is a curse I can learn to live with, Father.” Arthur’s own voice dropped back down to a whisper. “It’s not without its uses.”
“Nonsense. Magic does nothing but corrupt and destroy, Arthur. If I’ve taught you nothing else over the years, I’d have thought I taught you that much.” In his mind’s eye, he could see the treacherous witch smiling her pretty smile, offering to fulfill his dearest wish and the tragedy that had befallen them all because he’d allowed himself to be tempted by such false promises.
“Father-”
Uther tucked the book under his arm and drew himself up to his full height. “No more nonsense. I must go see what Gaius has to say for his part in this mess, then I will send for other doctors. You will not use this magic again.”
“Father-”
“Never again, Arthur. You will obey me. I have told you before. We are none of us above the law and you would do well to remember that.”
“But Father-”
There was nothing else to say as far as Uther was concerned. He shut the door soundly behind him and strode off.
There was a physician who had better have a damned good excuse for his actions.
~*~*~
“We knew we couldn’t hide it forever,” Arthur said quietly from where he sat watching Merlin pace the room.
“We could have. You’d be amazed at how people are willing to believe what they want to believe if you don’t leave books laying around for them to find.”
Merlin sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe it had been unrealistic to think that Uther would never find out. There was a vast difference between the amount of attention paid a prince and a servant. And he’d known how keenly Uther had been watching Arthur of late.
The king had almost lost his son twice - three times if one included the sickened withdrawal of the weeks after their return. It was understandable that his attention would not be as easily shifted aside.
Still, he’d hoped.
“It could have been worse, Merlin.” Arthur was calm again, trying to be reasonable.
It made Merlin scowl.
“That is annoying, you know.”
Arthur simply arched a brow and looked politely confused. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”
“That. You’re so bloody calm. Three months ago, you’d be the one pacing and I’d be the one trying to calm you down. Or maybe we’d both be pacing and there wouldn’t be anyone to calm either of us.”
“Three months ago, I wasn’t being forced to meditate every day.” Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “What would you have me do, Merlin? Rail at my fate and hide under my blankets again? As I recall, the last time I did that, you were quite displeased. You’re the one that said I needed to stop crying and accept my fate.”
That had Merlin’s lips twitching and he couldn’t suppress the grin that broke out on his face. It was enough to make him stop pacing and come over to stand in front of Arthur. “That’s not quite what I said.”
“Whatever.” Arthur hesitated a moment before reaching out to tug Merlin closer. Their heads tilted together until Merlin’s forehead rested against Arthur’s. His voice was soft when he continued. “The point is, getting upset isn’t going to fix anything. And it could have been worse. He hasn’t spoken of execution at all. And at least I hadn’t written anything about you as of yet. Well… nothing incriminating, at any rate. Just that you were trying to help me. Maybe a bit about how each aura effects me.” He frowned slightly, obviously trying to remember if he’d as recklessly risked Merlin’s discovery as he had his own. He knew very well most of what Arthur had written having been right there for a lot of it, but he didn’t say anything. He knew it was more about reassuring himself than about reassuring Merlin.
Finally Arthur shrugged again, one hand absently rubbing up and down the sorcerer’s side. “If there’d been anything more, he’d have said.”
Merlin sighed. It was difficult to be aggravated at Arthur when he was like this. “What do we do now?”
Arthur smiled a little, no doubt pleased that Merlin was giving in to his logic. “Now we wait. There’s nothing to be done and my father will realize that soon enough. Then we see if he’ll have me executed after all.”
“He’s more likely to execute Gaius and I for not telling him,” Merlin muttered. He knew exactly where Uther would lay the blame for all of this and it wouldn’t be with Arthur.
There was a moment of hesitation, then Arthur brushed a gentle hand over his cheek. “You know I’d never allow that.”
The sorcerer allowed himself a moment to enjoy the simple, unabashed touch, then he sighed again. “You may not have a choice in the matter, Arthur.”
“If it comes to that, you will escape.”
“Arthur-”
“No, Merlin.” Arthur’s words were fierce and the hand on Merlin’s side tightened. “Promise me. I am well aware of the size and depth of your power, likely better than even you are. If ever there comes a time when my father tries to execute you - or Gaius - do not sit idly by and let it happen. I shall never forgive you if you do.”
“I’ll promise if you promise.”
A surprised snort of laughter escaped the prince. “Fine. We’ll neither of us go willingly to our deaths.” Content with the promise, Arthur sighed and looked at the table where the book had sat until now, his expression mingled annoyance and sadness. “I just wish he hadn’t taken Mother’s book. Writing everything down has been vastly helpful.”
“We’ll get it back,” Merlin promised.
~*~*~
Gaius looked up and sighed when Uther stormed into the room. There was no surprise on his face, no fear, no guilt. There was only resignation.
“You should have told me. He is my son. I had a right to know.”
The physician gestured towards the lone stool but Uther waved it off. He had no desire to sit.
“When he first awoke, I wasn’t sure what ailed him, Sire. When I began to suspect, I searched every bit of knowledge at my disposal, books, other physicians, even the one or two hedgewitches that are still willing to talk to me outside of Camelot. I even consulted the dragon. I had hoped that I would be able to cure him of the magic without anyone ever knowing.” Gaius sighed and shook his head sadly. “But everyone was in agreement. There is no way to undo the effects of the ceremony. Once Arthur was aware of his affliction, he did not want you to know. We agreed that the only solution left to him was to find some way for him to control it.”
Uther’s fists clenched tightly and he whirled around to pace the short length of the physician’s room. “Impossible. There must be something. Everyone has lied to you. This is- They want Arthur to suffer this curse. You can’t trust a word that bloody dragon says.”
He should have had the damned thing put to death.
“Sire, I do not believe that the dragon would lie about this. He would much rather see Arthur ascend to the throne than have you remain on it indefinitely. He does not want to see Arthur put to death over magic.”
For the first time since he’d stormed from Arthur’s chambers, Uther paused, his mind blanking at the very idea. “You think I would have Arthur put to death?”
“Sire…” The expression on Gaius’ face spoke more clearly than words ever could have.
“You do.” Uther had to swallow back the bile that threatened to rise in the back of his throat at the realization that Gaius, the closest thing he had to a friend, the man who’d stood beside him for over twenty years, thought him capable of such a thing. “You think I’d kill my own son.”
Did that mean Arthur believed it as well?
Suddenly his son’s reticence in the matter made a certain sick amount of sense.
“I have seen you do horrible things in your hatred for magic. Having Arthur executed would not be the worst.” Gaius’ tone wasn’t accusing, but when had it ever been? He simply stated the truth as he saw it and let Uther draw his own conclusions about how Gaius actually felt about it.
“I see… perhaps that was the point to all of this, then. If you believe me capable of it, it’s likely his attackers do as well.”
“It would be an all around ideal situation in the view of some,” Gaius conceded with a nod. “Either you execute the most beloved member of the monarchy, something that would surely cause the people to rise against you, or they successfully put magic back into the castle.”
Neither option was acceptable. “You will fix him. You will find a way to rid him of this cursed magic.”
Gaius gave him a bland look. “I have no more books to consult, Sire. I can continue making inquiries, spread my net further, so to speak, but I’ve exhausted my more discreet contacts. Anything else will cause word to get out. Then you will have to make a choice.”
Uther understood. If the people knew that Arthur was capable of magic, Uther would be forced to enforce his own laws or blatantly ignore them to save his son. He’d have to choose between being a king or being a father.
Pressing his fingers against his eyelids, Uther struggled under the weight of his crown and the impossible dilemma he was faced with. He could not allow magic to flourish in his own household and he could not, would not be forced to watch his only son, his last connection to his beloved Ygraine, die.
If Arthur’s curse could not be lifted…
“He could be exiled…” The very idea caused a twisting pain in Uther’s gut, the idea that he could be forced to send Arthur away, never to see him again until they reached whatever afterlife awaited the kings of the land. It was almost more than could be bourne, but it was better than allowing Arthur to die.
“I fear that would be only slightly better than executing him in the eyes of your people, sire. If you exile him, there will be talk. Everyone will know. He did not seek this magic out. It was drawn from his blood, from Ygraine’s bloodline. They will see that he suffers for it, and then they will see that you would punish him for it and add to that suffering.” With an arched brow, Gaius shrugged. “Some will look at it as a good thing. A sign that you do not put your own son above them.” He paused and shook his head. “But most will not. Most will look at Arthur and see the young prince that they’ve watched grow to a man, who has nearly died to protect them a dozen times over. They will look at Arthur and see their own sons and daughters and they will think, ‘if the king’s own son is not safe, who is?’. They will look at you and they will wonder what kind of man could do such a thing to his own son.”
In a fit of frustrated temper, Uther knocked his fist into the pestle and mortar that sat upon the table. When that was not enough to calm him, he swiped at a stack of books.
Gaius merely arched a brow. “Do you feel better, Sire?”
Glowering, Uther restrained the urge to knock over the beakers that lined another table. He knew well enough that some of Gaius’ experiments could be harmful when mixed. It was tempting, though. “What do you suggest we do, then?”
“I suggest that we allow Arthur to learn control. After he has mastered that, he can choose not to use it. No one will ever know.”
Uther sat abruptly on the stool he’d spurned previously. He rubbed grit from his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “He’s young. He doesn’t understand that magic has dangerous consequences. Of course he’ll use it.”
“I think that you don’t give your son enough credit. He’s grown quite a lot over the last year. He won’t take frivolous chances. He knows that people depend upon him.”
“Perhaps not frivolous chances,” Uther conceded. But he knew his son better than most would have assumed. He might not always have been the best father, distant and colder than he should have been, than he’d wanted to be, but he’d always been observant. “But if he thought it would help him protect the people, do not doubt for one moment he’d use it without a second thought for what it might cost him.”
“A wise leader uses the weapons available to him, Sire.”
“You’ve never agreed with my feelings on magic.”
There was a moment of hesitation before Gaius shrugged. “Magic is neither good nor evil, Sire. It simply is. It is the wielder who makes the choice to use it for one or the other. I’ve told you before that it isn’t the magic itself that corrupts. It’s the feeling of power and invulnerability, the knowledge that one can place oneself above other men that rots ones soul. It is the same as any other kind of power. I do not believe that Arthur would succumb to such things.”
Uther wondered if that was Gaius’ veiled way of saying that he believed that Uther had succumbed to such things.
“Make your inquiries, Gaius. Discreetly.” Uther stood abruptly, weary of the conversation, weary of magic in general. He dearly wished that the cowardly magical threats of the world would stop hurting his son to get to him. The entire business just made him feel old and tired. “Send the auramancer away. If he is still in the castle by morning, I will have him arrested on suspicion of magic. Arthur will have to make do with whatever he’s managed to learn.”
Gaius dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, Sire.”
At the door, Uther paused. “And Gaius. Do not keep such things from me again. Next time, I may arrest you.”
~*~*~
The night was still and dark as they walked Gilius to the gates of Camelot. Neither of them trusted that Uther would not try to stop the auramancer, regardless of his words to Gaius.
Arthur offered a half-smile as he handed his tutor the reigns to one of Camelot’s finest steeds. “I’m sorry that it ends like this, Sir Gilius. I would have liked to have learned more. If it were up to me, you’d not be leaving.”
“It has been an honor, my lord.” Gilius bowed low with deference. “You will make a fine king and I consider it a privilege to have been allowed to teach you anything at all.” When he straightened once more, he returned Arthur’s smile. “You have all the basic tools to make an equally fine auramancer. The flourishes can be learned through trial and error, though remember what I said about moderation.”
Beside them, Merlin gently rubbed the horse’s nose and tried not to intrude more than he had to. He knew that he still made Gilius more nervous than not.
“Lord Emrys,” the auramancer turned to him and offered another bow. “I’m pleased to have met you.” His smile when he was looking at Merlin again was sheepish. “Please forgive my less than graceful self in your presence.”
With a laugh, Merlin held out a hand. He was pleased that Gilius didn’t hesitate to return the clasp. He hadn’t gotten to know the man very well, but he’d forever be grateful for the difference he’d made for Arthur. “It’s all right. I’ve never quite effected anyone like that. It was a… novel experience.”
He gave Gilius a leg up into the saddle and Arthur handed up his bag. “Be safe, and remember. Try not to stop until you are well across the border. I fear my father may have men on your heels at first light.” He sighed and offered the other an apologetic look. “When I am king, you will be welcome here once more.”
Gilius smiled at them. “I expect to hear great tales of the two of you. King Arthur and his great Sorcerer Merlin. You’re both everything that prophecy promised and more.”
“Farewell, Gilius.”
“Farewell, my lords.”
They stood back, side by side, and watched the auramancer set off at a quick pace. They stayed there in silence until he was well out of sight.
“You were right, you know,” Arthur said softly, nudging Merlin’s arm with an elbow.
Merlin glanced at him curiously, but Arthur was still staring into the dark forest. He wondered what the prince was seeing, what the living forest looked like to an auramancer’s eyes. Reading the books to Arthur, he’d learned that all things pulsed with life energy, even things he wouldn’t have originally considered ‘alive’. It wasn’t magic per se, but Merlin had begun to wonder if Arthur was seeing the manifestation of what he could sense. He’d meant to ask Gilius once the auramancer was more comfortable around him. The books never really clarified the differences or similarities.
As Arthur had complained, the books were woefully short sighted on what a student might actually need to know.
He would have bet a month’s worth of pay that whatever Arthur was seeing was beautiful.
“Right about what, Sire?” His own voice was just as soft as his companion’s, unwilling to break the quiet more than necessary.
Arthur finally looked at him, warmth in his smile. “Training. It was a good idea.”
“Well-”
“Of course, statistically speaking, even you have to be right on occasion.”
“Oy!” Merlin laughed and pushed his prince lightly. “Prat.”
Arthur’s laughter was softer and he pulled Merlin into a quick hug before pushing him away with a serious look. “When I am king, I will lift the ban on magic. Sorcerers and other magic users will be subject to the same basic laws as everyone else and anyone who causes harm to Camelot will be handled without mercy, but… simply possessing the power should not be a death sentence. Men like Gilius… Men like you should not live in such fear.”
“I have always said that you will be a great king,” Merlin whispered, clasping Arthur’s forearm and refusing to be pushed away entirely. “It is not just words, you know. I truly believe it, Arthur.”
The smile he got in return was small but pleased. “Thank you, Merlin.”
~*~*~
“Was the king horribly furious with you?” Merlin asked over breakfast.
Gaius arched a brow at him, then sighed. “Uther is frightened. He does not react well to things that frighten him. I am well versed on handling him in such a condition.” His mouth turned down in a severe frown. “However did he find out? I thought you’d both know to be careful.”
“He found the book.” He shrugged. “Arthur left it on his table and Uther came looking for him while we were out.”
If Merlin had thought about it, he’d have warned Arthur not to leave such a thing sitting out where anyone could find it, but honestly, he’d have thought Arthur was smart enough to realize that all on his own. He should have considered the prince’s arrogance and innate sense of self-entitlement.
“Foolish, but I suppose it was inevitable.” Gaius shook his head. “I notice that you’ve not been thrown onto a pyre.”
Quirking a grin at him, Merlin shrugged again. “Arthur has been writing about auramancy and his experiences with it so far. And he’s not so foolish as to write down names and implicate anyone else.”
He knew that Arthur had been avoiding writing about the color of Merlin’s aura, other than to say it was soothing. Arthur had said he highly doubted that any future auramancers were going to find themselves drowning in Merlin.
Merlin had teased him for days for that particular turn of phrase and the possessive way it had been said, much to the prince’s disgust.
They were moving towards something, slowly, ever so slowly, but as inevitably as anything else in their lives.
“He wants to tell Morgana,” Merlin said, carefully keeping his eyes averted, knowing his mentor would not be pleased by the news.
There was a long moment of silence, then Gaius sat down his spoon. “What, exactly, does he wish Morgana to know?”
“Everything. Look, Gaius. I know you believe that hiding the truth is protecting her, but she has a right to know. It’s her life that’s being effected.” Merlin hadn’t allowed himself to really consider it very deeply, but he thought Arthur was right. There were times to lie and times to be truthful, he’d learned well enough since he’d come to Camelot, but some truths should never be covered up completely. Morgana had a right to know about the magic flowing through her veins. Merlin couldn’t imagine what his life might have been if his mother had tried to hide his own from him, had tried to convince him that the random bursts of unexplainable things that happened around him were nothing more than his imagination. Bad enough that she’d kept the knowledge of his father from him. Even though he knew why she’d done it, that still hurt badly.
It wasn’t quite the same thing, he knew, but he couldn’t help but sympathize with Morgana every time she looked at him with fearful eyes. It felt awful, knowing the truth that could soothe that fear and having to hold it back.
“Merlin… If Uther finds out-”
“He won’t. It’s fine enough for him to continue thinking she suffers from night terrors. There’s no need for him to question it. And it’s not like she’s cocky enough to just leave incriminating books lying about for the king to find.”
Gaius sighed and shook his head. “This could go so horribly wrong, Merlin.”
“Perhaps, but I think maybe… it was starting to go wrong already.” He remembered the way she’d looked after the questing beast, after he’d made his deal with Nimueh, when she’d tried to warn him that the danger was not passed. “If I’d listened to her, if I’d dared to let her warn me properly, rather than kept up the pretense of disbelieving her, then maybe the mess with Nimueh could have been handled better.”
“I doubt any amount of warning could have helped with that particular mess,” Gaius said, sounding old and resigned. “You have a singular knack for attracting trouble, Merlin. You are as close to a son as I’ve ever had or wanted, but I swear, you’ll be the death of me yet.”
Though Merlin laughed, he sincerely hoped not.
~*~*~
Things became much more tense around his father after the discovery. Not wanting the news to get out any further than it already had, Uther had demanded that Gaius show him every response he’d received from his initial inquiries. Then, he’d sent out messengers far and wide, looking for books of magic and ancient rituals.
Most assumed that this was a sign of a fresh wave of purging and villagers and scholars alike grew more cautious and fearful.
If anyone had such a book or knowledge in their possession, no one was talking.
A predictable result, in Arthur’s opinion, though Uther didn’t seem to grasp why no one wanted to admit to having such a tie to magic, even with a promise that the owners would not be put to trial for witchcraft. Promises tended to ring false when given by someone who was well known for believing that magic users deserved no such consideration.
It was hard to watch Uther become more and more agitated as his queries turned up nothing.
The king was always careful to make sure Arthur knew that he wasn’t responsible for what had happened, always careful to make sure that Arthur knew that he hadn’t given up.
As he stood on one of the castle’s guard stations, watching another rider return with nothing more than a disheartened aura wafting from him, Arthur felt his father approach.
“Arthur…” Uther hesitated a moment before putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, as always more demonstrative when he felt Arthur’s well-being was at risk than he was at any other time. “We’ll fix this. Have faith.”
Arthur watched the colors around the king darken and swirl, the man’s doubtful pain and bitter, hateful anger, overwhelming everything else, and wished that he could go back to his previous oblivion. He didn’t want to know that his father’s hatred of magic was in a constant battle with his familial affection for Arthur.
He wished Gilius hadn’t been sent away so soon.
The book had hinted that an aura could be cleansed of the negativity that was polluting it, but unsurprisingly, it seemed to be one of those things that it just assumed that he would already know.
He wanted so badly to heal his father, to take away all of that pain and rage and guilt. Knowing that he could have, if only he’d had the knowledge of how… that was one of the most painful things he’d ever had to accept.
~*~*~
The book sat, heavy but innocuous enough, in a pile of many books.
Merlin probably would not have noticed at all if he hadn’t felt his own magical signature when he’d entered the king’s rooms. As it was, he was very hard pressed not to give himself away by staring directly at it.
“And how can I help you today, Merlin?” Uther asked, from where he sat at his own table, quill in hand. There were rolls of parchment at his elbow. Messages, Merlin assumed. At least some of them probably related to the actual running of the kingdom, but he knew that most were probably more inquiries into Arthur’s new magic.
Though some of his previous terror of the king had faded now that he had Arthur’s orders about possible executions, the truth was that Merlin still preferred not to put himself in the man’s direct line of sight when he could avoid it.
Even without potential magical discovery, Merlin knew that Uther would dearly love to remove the servant his son was so attached to and that threat held an even greater power over Merlin than any other would have.
“Umm… My apologies for disturbing you, Sire,” Merlin forced out, only going as far into the room as he absolutely had to in order to avoid offending the king. “Arthur is umm… Gaius has given the prince permission to rejoin training and he would like to relay an invitation to come down to the field if… if you’re not too busy. Sire.”
Uther leaned back in his chair, arching a brow. He stared at Merlin for far longer than was really necessary and it was all the sorcerer could do not to just flee the room. He was about to lose that particular internal battle when the king finally chose to speak. “You knew of my son’s ailment, did you not?”
Merlin’s mind went into a gibbering tailspin, completely uncomprehending. no no nonononono please don’t send me away don’t kill me please please nonononono
The older man arched a brow, but seemed to guess at Merlin’s sudden attack of muteness. “I do not ask in order to trap you into incriminating yourself, Merlin. You will not be punished. You have my word on it.”
For a moment, Merlin stayed silent, but finally he dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, Sire. I knew.”
Uther nodded, looking unsurprised. “And it doesn’t bother you? To know that magic has been forced on your master?”
“Sire…” Merlin bit his lip, considering how best to answer that. Finally, he sighed and looked at the king, far more directly than was probably acceptable. “It bothers me that someone stole him away and … did this. That…he was so sick from it. It bothers me that he suffers through something he was never meant to suffer through. And it really bothers me that I couldn’t protect him from it, that I couldn’t step in and ... ‘Drink the poison’, so to speak.”
He remembered how Arthur had looked up on that dais, still as death, and how miserable he’d been as he huddled in bed, afraid to even look at anyone else.
It was his job to protect Arthur from the magical things that would seek him out and do him harm and he’d failed, spectacularly. He tried not to think about it, especially around Arthur, but Merlin hated himself a little for being so useless in the face of this attack.
“Even if it would have meant your death?” Uther’s face gave nothing away, but Merlin held his ground, confident in his conviction when it came to Arthur.
“If it spared his? Yes, your highness.”
“No hesitation at all? Some might call you a fool.”
Merlin’s lips quirked in a grin and he looked down for a moment. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Yes, I suppose you have.” There was a long moment of silence before Uther sighed and continued. “You’ve also managed to side-step the actual question quite nicely, answering only the most literal part of it. Very… political of you, but I must insist on an answer. Does this magic of Arthur’s not bother you?”
“No, Sire.” Merlin’s voice was calm and steady. He refused to shy away from this, whether the king wanted him to or not. “Magic or no magic, I will serve Arthur Pendragon until the day that I die and do so happily.”
Uther’s gaze grew sharper, his eyes narrowing as he considered Merlin’s words. Merlin could tell that he was turning the declaration over in his mind, though he couldn’t tell towards what end. Did the king want his own distaste and fear echoed from everyone else?
Merlin wouldn’t give him that.
The king stood and stalked over to where Merlin stood. The urge to flinch returned, but he held his ground. “Your devotion to my son is truly… remarkable. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the like in a servant before. Not even for me as king.”
Arthur Pendragon was the only king that Merlin would ever serve, but he didn’t see any need to point that out, not with Uther standing over him like some great predator, poised to strike if the mood moved him to do so.
He shrugged, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. He didn’t want Uther to somehow get the idea that he was just mouthing platitudes. “Some men run from their destiny. Some tolerate it. I choose to embrace mine whole-heartedly.”
The silence lingered for a long moment before Uther nodded slowly. Returning to the table, the king capped the inkpot he’d been using. “I see. Well, take these down to my porter. They need to be sent immediately. I will not risk the prince’s life on the hope that everyone will share your sentiments. I believe that I shall go see Arthur take to the training fields after all.”
“Of course, Sire.” Merlin bowed low and held the pose until Uther’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. Even then, he straightened cautiously.
No matter how innocent or pointed the topic was, talking to Uther always made him feel out of sorts and anxious. It was an endless test and failure meant death. Or separation from Arthur, which honestly, frightened him more.
With a sigh, he moved to scoop up the small bundle of missives.
It was only as Merlin was starting to leave, trying very hard not to drop or crumple any of the rolled parchments that he remembered the book. He paused in the doorway, hovering uncertainly before looking back at it.
It was Arthur’s book, after all, so it couldn’t really be considered stealing, right?
Merlin wondered if the logic would save his neck if he got caught, but didn’t let the threat of future death and dismemberment stop him from snagging it quickly and spelling another to look like it.
With any luck, Uther would never notice that it had been returned to it’s proper owner.
~*~*~
The conversation with Morgana was something that Merlin was dreading, but by the time the confrontation finally arrived, he didn’t feel as bad about it as he could have.
It helped, he knew, that Arthur had a keen mind for strategy and knew their quarry well enough to guess her reactions to most things and also that Gaius had a fair bit of experience in offering half-truths. Deflecting queries and assumptions in the right direction had become somewhat of a specialty for him.
Arthur invited Morgana - and by extension, Gwen, though Gaius had cautioned against letting the tale go further than absolutely necessary - to a quiet dinner in his room. Since he’d started gaining control of his new gifts, that in itself wasn’t unusual. Morgana had dined with him many times and she’d accepted the invitation without a second thought.
For his part, Merlin fetched up all of Morgana’s favorite dishes from the kitchens and had set Arthur’s table carefully, paying attention to details as he very seldom did.
When the ladies arrived, Morgana actually stopped and blinked at the settings in confusion before turning to Arthur with an arched brow.
The table was set for four, though Merlin wasn’t sure how Arthur honestly expected him to be able to eat with his stomach turning in knots as it was.
The entire thing could go pear-shaped if Morgana asked the wrong question or if Arthur had miscalculated any of her probable reactions. Merlin was a far better liar than most people would have given him credit for, but truthfully, there were certain people and certain lies that he knew he’d never be able to force past his lips. Not now. Not once he’d given way to the idea of honesty between the four of them.
He’d wanted that for too long to be able to lie about it now.
He held out the chair for Gwen, who looked to her mistress with hesitation. Morgana was too engaged in her stare down with Arthur to actually notice, though and Merlin gave his friend a strained smile, silently begging her to go along with this no matter how strange it might seem to her.
It was Arthur, who tipped the tableau between them, moving to the table and pulling out the chair beside Gwen. “Please, Morgana. I’ve important things to talk about and it concerns them as well.”
Her dark eyes narrowed further for a moment before she sighed and took her seat gracefully. “Really, Arthur. You could have said. It’s not as if Gwen and I don’t share supper in my room on occasion. What would you have done if I’d given her the night off?”
“Sent Merlin to fetch her, of course,” Arthur said with something of a pompous air. The attempt at prattishness lost some of it’s effectiveness when he winked at Merlin.
It did serve to relax the atmosphere as Gwen couldn’t quite suppress her huff of amusement while Merlin rolled his eyes.
His nerves were still jangling about horribly, though and his hands shook as he made to pour the wine.
Strong, tanned fingers settled over his own pale ones tightening briefly in reassurance. “It’s all right, Merlin. I’m sure we can all handle pouring for ourselves.”
Merlin swallowed hard and nodded tightly, settling down into the chair beside Arthur. The position brought to mind camaraderie over a camp fire and long nights under the stars with no castle etiquette to maintain, no distance between them, be it physical or social. The familiarity helped him relax slightly and he offered Morgana a more genuine smile where she was staring at their byplay through narrowed eyes.
“All right, Arthur. What is this all about?”
“I thought we could have a nice dinner first, Morgana.”
She sat both hands on the table, palm down, and the expression on her face was completely implacable.
Finally, Arthur sighed and dipped his head in acquiescence. “Very well.”
Merlin felt the prince’s eyes brush over him, but he refused to look up from the table. He was willing to share this information, was even glad to do so. That didn’t mean his stomach wasn’t roiling unpleasantly at the task itself. His mother had drilled it into his head from a very young edge that the more people who knew of his gifts, the more danger he’d be in, the more danger they’d be in.
It was hard to break a life time of training, even for a good cause. Even when he wanted to.
The warmth of Arthur’s thigh pressed against his own, comfort and reassurance spreading between them as Arthur told the story as they’d planned it.
He explained the truth of his kidnapping and the ancient ritual Gaius believed had been used. His voice wavered slightly as he told of the magic that had run in the veins of his mother’s family and how it had been forced to the surface.
Merlin leaned in even closer, his shoulder settling against Arthur’s, hoping that Arthur could take the same measure of comfort from him that he’d always taken from Arthur.
It seemed to be enough. Arthur’s voice steadied as he told of the debilitating magic and Gilius answering the plea from Gaius to come and save the prince of Camelot. Merlin had bite back the urge to remind Arthur that he hadn’t really been dying, no matter how much he’d thought he was.
It made the story sound better, made Arthur sound more like a hero suffering bravely and less like the sulky child he’d been emulating.
Certainly, it seemed to have the women wringing their hands in sympathy. Merlin could see the urge to mother Arthur welling up in the both of them, even though he was obviously fine again.
His mother’s book and Uther’s subsequent discovery made everyone tense, as if simply uttering his name could somehow summon the man himself to the chamber.
Both women remained mostly silent through the tale, Morgana only asking occasionally for clarification.
“So you’ve magic now,” Morgana finally said, drawing the words out as if she were tasting them on her tongue, testing the sound of them.
Arthur dipped his head slightly, his expression as serious as Merlin had ever seen it.
For her part, Gwen was quiet, eyes going between their masters. She did not seem any more nervous around Arthur than she ever had, thankfully.
Of course, Arthur hadn’t told them about Merlin yet.
Morgana pursed her lips slightly, her eyes challenging. “Prove it.”
This was the tricky part, of course. Arthur didn’t know a lot of provable spells yet other than very basic healing. Gilius hadn’t really been around long enough to teach him more than basic control techniques and small things involving his own aura. Another auramancer would be able to instantly see what he was doing, but even Merlin could often only tell that he was using the magic, not what he was actually doing with it.
But this was what Arthur had anticipated. It was the lead in he was looking for.
“You’re a Seer, Morgana. Your dreams and nightmares… They’re not just dreams and nightmares, they’re visions.” Arthur held her gaze steadily, and her own shaky scoff of dismissal died quickly in the face of his seriousness.
“You can’t know that.”
“I can. This auramancy stuff allows me to see the magic that surrounds you. You glow indigo, Mogana, the color of the Sight.” He paused for a moment and shrugged with a small smile. “It’s quite lovely, actually.”
Her mouth turned down, her expression showing the beginnings of hostile defensiveness. “You don’t-”
“I’m hardly going to turn you in, now am I? Besides, yours isn’t the only magic hiding in this castle, Morgana, and I’ll have no one else dying for it if I can help it.”
Merlin couldn’t help but flinch slightly, staring hard at the dark grain of the table. He didn’t want to see their expressions, didn’t want to know if they’d guessed or not. He thought he could feel their eyes on him, but that could have been simple projection. He certainly wasn’t going to look to find out for certain.
“You still haven’t proven anything, Arthur.” Her words were calm again, though, and he thought the protest was more for show than for actual disbelief. Magic was no joking manner in Camelot and even Arthur wouldn’t make light of it, not when such jokes could get innocent people executed out of hand.
“Trying my hand at anything that you could visibly see could be dangerous, Morgana. I wouldn’t expect a novice swordsman to show off skills he hasn’t mastered yet.”
For a long moment, Morgana was silent, considering. “I don’t.. Disbelieve you. But surely you can see that-”
Whatever she was going to say cut off abruptly as the ewer of wine calmly rose from the table and made a circuit of all their cups, filling each one carefully to the brim before moving on to the next.
This time Merlin knew everyone was staring at him.
Once they stopped staring at the ewer, that is.
“Merlin?”
Swallowing hard, the sorcerer forced himself to look up at Gwen’s wide eyes. He could see her quick mind working things out, coming to the conclusions he’d known he’d have to face, the truths he’d have to admit. “I’m sorry.”
Even more than the secrets he’d kept from Morgana, the secrets he’d kept from Gwen had eaten at him. He’d never forgive himself for how close she’d come to being burned for his crime any more than he’d forgive himself for not figuring out how to save her father the second time.
He should have been able to keep her safe, to protect her.
Arthur’s knee pressed against his, more tightly than before.
Merlin wasn’t sure if he deserved that comfort, but he took it gladly.
He took a deep breath and shrugged, wrapping both hands around his now-full cup. “I was born this way. Gaius is a friend of my mother’s. She sent me to him when she realized it couldn’t be hidden in Ealdor any longer. I didn’t want to lie to everyone. It’s just… safer, you know? Safer for everyone.”
“It was you… when my father was ill.” There was no censure in her words, but Merlin couldn’t help but flinch away from them nonetheless.
“Ye-” His voice cracked slightly and he had to clear his throat and nod. “Yes.”
“Oh, Merlin…” Gentle hands, soft despite the calluses of their class, settled on his own, pulling them from the cup he’d been clutching at so desperately. “Thank you.”
Eyes flying upwards, Merlin stared at the sweet smile she was offering, as if she didn’t understand that it had been his fault. “But I- Gwen you were almost executed.”
“But Merlin-” she replied, mocking him teasingly. “You saved my father. I had months more with him that I’d have not had otherwise.” Her hands tightened around his and she raised them to her lips for a soft kiss. “And for that, I will be forever grateful.”
His throat worked, but he couldn’t seem to force out any sound and his eyes felt suspiciously damp.
Arthur chuckled and nudged him. “Are you crying, Merlin?”
“Oh shut up,” he huffed, nudging the other man back. “‘M not crying.”
“You are,” Arthur teased, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him close to rub knuckles through his hair. The prince’s touch was gentle despite the show of rough-handling, though. “Really, Merlin. Sometimes you’re such a girl.”
“Says the prat who literally sees the world in pretty pastels now,” Merlin growled in return, almost dizzy with relief to have his biggest secret out in the open with the people who mattered most to him.
If Gwen had turned away from him, it would have put a crack in his heart that would have never quite healed. He’d have understood, of course he would have. But understanding would not have eased the blow at all.
Morgana snorted at his words and he dared a glance at her when he managed to get his head away from Arthur’s grip. She looked much as she usually did, regal and proud. There was also a gleeful glint in her eyes as she smiled. “Pastels, Arthur? Really? How adorable.”
“It’s not all pastels.” The tone was aggrieved, but Merlin suspected Arthur was just as relieved as he was. “Just… some of it. Gwen is a fair bit pastel… for earthy tones, at any rate.”
Eyes dropping to her arms, Gwen considered her skin for a moment. “Is it because-”
“No. It’s not got anything to do with that. Gaius is earthy tones as well. Bit more on the green side. That’s because his mind turns towards knowledge and healing. It’s…” Arthur bit his lip, considering how best to explain it. “Like… Morgana carries the color of the Seer, Merlin is… well. It’s mostly his magic, I suppose. I can’t really see underneath it to anything else.” His hands gestured expansively, obviously trying to explain the sheer depth and size of Merlin’s magic. “There’s nothing pastel about it, though. Just… gold. Very, very gold.”
“Can you see your own?” Morgana asked, clearly fascinated now. “What color are you? Pink? Oh please tell me that you are pink.”
Merlin couldn’t help but snicker at the way Arthur gaped at her. Across from him, Gwen was managing it, but only just.
Leaning back, he watched Arthur sputter as Morgana teased and Gwen fought to cover her own amusement at them.
This, he thought, was home.
And for once, the threat of the executioner seemed very far away.
~*~*~
continued in Part 5