Belong to the Living, Part Two: Merlin
Part One: Ygraine
“I was thinking,” Arthur said one evening, “that I might try to find this Nimueh my mother keeps talking about.”
Merlin dropped the dagger he was polishing, only half on purpose, and took his time bending under the table to pick it up so he could hide his initial reaction. “Why-why would you do that?” He groped for the dagger and sliced his fingers on it, still fumbling through his shock.
“Honestly, Merlin.” Merlin managed to get his expression under control, at least mostly, and straightened up, wiping the blood off on his polishing cloth. Arthur’s eyes fixed on the streak of red before he could continue with his previous subject or with mocking Merlin for incompetence, and he moved as if he might grab Merlin’s arm to see the damage for himself. Merlin curled his fingers up, and Arthur leaned back again. “Do you need bandages?”
“No, sire. Why do you want to find Nimueh?” She tried to kill you once. More than once. But had she introduced herself to Arthur, when he went to find a cure for Merlin?
Arthur sighed and toyed with his cup. “Because perhaps my father was wrong about her. My mother thinks so, at least. And she … misses her, I think. Most of her friends from then are dead. I suppose there’s a chance that Nimueh is as well, but it might be worth a try.”
It wasn’t, but how could Merlin tell Arthur that? He’d been listening to Queen Ygraine’s stories of magic in a way Merlin never could have hoped for, but that didn’t mean he would forgive Merlin for everything he’d done. “Your father might still kill her. More than he would any other sorcerers, I mean.”
“I could arrange a meeting, though. Somehow.” Arthur set his jaw. “I’d like to meet her. To know if it was really an accident, or if she meant …”
She meant to kill you. She meant to kill my mother. She meant to kill Gaius. “I’ve got to go,” he blurted. “Just remembered, Gaius was going to try brewing something new for Morgana and-”
“You’re very scared of magic, aren’t you?” Arthur asked, somewhere between amused and serious.
Merlin thought of Sophia nearly drowning Arthur, of the afanc and Nimueh’s ease trading lives for lives and fighting off Sigan within his own mind. And then he thought of saving lives and silly tricks and doing chores and Freya’s smile when he’d snuck down to the dungeon to see her while she was proving the curse was lifted and he made candle flames dance for her. “Sometimes,” he settled on.
“That’s odd, when Will was a sorcerer. A powerful one, if that show in Ealdor was any indication.”
“I trusted Will. That doesn’t mean I trust every sorcerer I meet.” It was the closest he could get to not lying. He finished swiping the cloth over the dagger standing up, fingers wrapped up in the cloth so he didn’t bleed on it any more. He wasn’t finished with all of Arthur’s weapons, but he had to get out and think of something that would keep him from chasing after Nimueh. “May I go to Gaius now, sire?”
For a second, Arthur looked at him in the way that made Merlin’s heart go rabbit-fast, like Arthur could see right through him and knew, somehow. Then he dropped his eyes and picked up the dagger as Merlin set it down, giving it one last polish with his sleeve, and Merlin could breathe again. “Yes. Of course. I’ll expect you at the usual time in the morning.”
Merlin babbled something that he hoped was a proper good night and fled.
Gaius was there when he got back, and Merlin opened his mouth to let it all come out in a flood and beg for advice even though he knew Gaius would caution him, tell him to keep lying just a bit longer. Gaius looked up, startled and tired, and he closed his mouth again.
Instead of speaking, Merlin just went to where Gaius was working and started helping him to chop up the herbs.
*
“Pack for both of us, for a few days’ journey,” Arthur said at lunch the next day. “We’re leaving in the morning.”
“On a hunt?” Merlin asked, without much hope.
“I asked my mother where this Nimueh might be found, this morning. She told me of a place called the Isle of the Blessed. I’ve heard of it only in legends, but she says it was where the priestesses of the Old Religion had their base and that if Nimueh is alive there might be sign of her there.”
“Does your father know?”
“We’ll make it look as if it’s just a hunt. There have been no attacks from sorcery since that sorceress brought my mother back. Camelot is as safe as it’s ever been.” Arthur must have read some of Merlin’s trepidation on his face, because he went sober all at once. “I won’t order you to come if it bothers you this much, Merlin.” His lips twitched. “You great girl.”
“No, I’ll-I’ll come.” It would be easier to tell Arthur the truth outside of Camelot, and it was what he would have to do, otherwise he would never give up on finding Nimueh. That way, if it went badly, he could run. “Leaving early?”
“Yes, it’s nearly a day’s ride.”
“Then if there’s nothing else you need me for, I’ll take care of what needs to be done before we leave for a few days. Packing, last-minute chores for Gaius, all that.”
Arthur shrugged. “Yes, go. I’ve got training this afternoon and the squires can take care of my needs, and then I’ll be taking dinner with my father and mother and Morgana, where you’ll be expected to serve, so you’d best finish your chores by then, and then I’ll want my sword sharpened before we go tomorrow.”
All told, it wasn’t the worst day of chores Merlin had ever had to deal with, although most of his days didn’t involve packing up all his most precious and treasonous possessions to take out on a quest in case Arthur banished him or tried to kill him. “Yes, sire.” He ran into Gwen halfway back to the tower and nearly knocked her basket of laundry out of her hands. “Shall I walk you to Morgana’s room?” he asked after he rescued a slipping shift off the top of the neat pile.
Gwen smiled, but she still looked nearly as tired as Morgana. “Don’t you have something else to be doing?”
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes.” If it went badly with Arthur, it might … but no, he wasn’t thinking like that. Arthur was changing his mind about magic, with his mother back, the question was just if he would forgive Merlin in specific for it. “It’s been a while since we had a chance to talk. Is Morgana still …?”
“Her nightmares got worse after the queen returned. She says she dreams about the sorceress that did it, but I don’t know.”
Perhaps he would have to tell her, too, if Arthur let him come back to Camelot. Gaius wasn’t always right, and if Morgana was getting worse maybe he could do something for her if she knew. “I’m sorry.” Gwen gave him a surprised sideways look, and he nudged her with a smile to change the subject. “If I haven’t seen you, it must be getting in the way of you and Arthur as well.”
To his surprise, she didn’t blush and duck her head like she had at first when he teased her about Arthur. “I don’t think so. He’s so busy with the queen, these days. It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
Merlin blinked and thought through the last several weeks, and how Arthur hadn’t been sneaking off whenever he could to “accidentally” run into Gwen in the corridors. Had they even spoken since the witchfinder? “I guess I’ll have to-”
“Merlin.” She stopped walking, so he stopped with her. “It was a lovely dream while it lasted, but I was never meant to be queen of Camelot, or Arthur’s wife. I’m just glad to call him my friend.”
Come to that, there had been little aside from looking between them since Hengist took Gwen, and he knew what the answer to that might be. “Lancelot?” he asked, because he might as well, and trotted after her when she started walking again. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“He left,” she said after a few more steps, “without even letting me say goodbye. I don’t know if I can forgive him for that. But I also know it isn’t fair to Arthur or any of us to continue on knowing there’s something unfinished like that.”
Merlin almost asked if Arthur knew that, but Arthur had barely even looked at Gwen since the sorceress brought his mother back, and when he wasn’t with her he seemed content to boss Merlin around his room like usual. He probably knew. It was just Merlin who had missed it, and Merlin who had no right to feel the quiet stirring of relief over it. “Pity,” he said as lightly as he could, “you might have kept Arthur from being a complete prat when he takes the throne.”
“He’ll have his mother around for that.” Gwen finally smiled again and looked at him. “Not to mention you. Now, you’re going in the opposite direction to what you should be, and I have Morgana’s linens to change. We’ll talk soon.”
“We will,” said Merlin, hoping he wasn’t lying, and gave her hand a quick clasp before heading back towards Gaius’s tower.
*
Merlin waited until they were three hours’ ride from Camelot to pull his horse up and clear his throat. Arthur turned around, and Merlin caught the end of him rolling his eyes. “You can’t possibly be tired already.”
“No, I just. I need to talk to you, before we go any farther.” He stayed on the horse. Arthur was the better rider, but on foot he would have no chance at all unless he used magic against Arthur, and he didn’t want to do that. He might lose Arthur’s trust by telling the truth, but he wouldn’t make it worse. “It’s important.”
Instead of making a joke, Arthur spent a few seconds on the edge of a glare before nodding. “Fine, then. If you think you must tell me right this second, then tell me.”
“We’re not going to find Nimueh.”
Arthur really did glare that time. “Really, Merlin? And how would you know that?”
There were a hundred ways to say it, but Merlin couldn’t force any of them out quite yet. “Remember the woman you met when you were searching for the Morteus flower?” he asked instead, ignoring Arthur’s growl. “That was her. Nimueh. She was the one who poisoned me, too, and she did … she was responsible for a lot of things that happened last year. The afanc. The wraith that almost killed your father.”
“Right.” If Arthur’s hands weren’t on the reins, he probably would have been crossing his arms. “And you know this how?”
“Gaius, mostly.”
“So she’s my father’s enemy. He blamed her for something that was just as much his fault, I can’t in good conscience blame her for going a bit mad. What makes you so sure we won’t find her?”
“I killed her.”
Arthur started laughing and spurred his horse on. “Very funny, Merlin. You killed the greatest sorceress my mother knew. How? By spilling wine on her?”
Merlin didn’t bother following after him. Instead, he whispered a quiet spell. The ball of bluish light that floated from his palm towards Arthur looked less impressive in broad daylight, but Arthur would recognize it. And did, judging by the way he froze when it stopped to hover a few feet in front of him. The horse, well-trained, went still as well, and there was a silence that felt like it lasted centuries before Arthur turned. There was no expression on his face at all. “With magic,” said Merlin.
“When?” Arthur asked, and it sounded like he was forcing it out.
“The Questing Beast. She didn’t send it, I don’t think you can send them, but you were dying, and I went for a cure. To the Isle of the Blessed.” Arthur turned his horse around and came just a bit closer. It wasn’t a comfort. “It was-a life for a life. If you took the cure, water from the Cup of Life, someone else would have to die.”
“So you killed her, because she’d hurt Camelot in the past?”
Merlin clenched his hands on the reins. The light next to Arthur went out. “I traded my life for yours. I thought that was the deal, it was always supposed to be me, so I-”
“You said goodbye to me.”
“Yes. And I was ready, but I woke up alive, and my mother was there, and you were getting better but she was-she was dying. So I got ready to go back to the Isle, to make sure it was me. Gaius tried to go in my place, and when I got there he was nearly dead. I couldn’t think, so I just … I killed her. I wanted it to be me.”
Arthur’s jaw worked. “Show me.”
“It was lightning. There are too many trees around. But when I left the Isle the ground was still scorched from it. I can show you-”
“How long have you been doing magic?”
“My whole life.”
“And since you’ve come to Camelot?”
“I’ve protected you. And Camelot, and your father.” He tried a smile, though in the face of Arthur’s stony expression it felt more like a grimace. “And I’ve done chores with it.”
“Chores,” Arthur said flatly. “You are aware that magic is illegal in Camelot, aren’t you?”
There were no satisfactory answers to that. Shouting out the amount of times that he’d saved Arthur or Camelot wouldn’t do anything, at least not yet. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, I know. I would rather have you alive than not.”
Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times. Merlin’s horse shied a bit, edgy. “How many times? Just … a number. I don’t want the stories.”
“How many times-”
“How many times have you saved my life, Merlin?”
“Directly, maybe six or seven. A few more than that indirectly.”
“Right.” Arthur opened his eyes, but he looked away like he didn’t want to see him, and Merlin tried not to wince. “You-stay here. Make camp, if you like, or don’t. I’m going on to the Isle alone. To see if there’s still proof.”
“Arthur-”
“I need to think.” Arthur turned his horse again, let it take a few steps away. Merlin held his reins tighter to keep his from following automatically. “If you aren’t here when I return, I will go looking for you, Merlin. That is a promise.”
Merlin dismounted. “Fine. But if you aren’t back by midday tomorrow I’m coming after you. I don’t know if anyone will show up and want to hurt you, and I can’t …”
For a second, Arthur softened, and Merlin reached out. “I’ll be back before then,” said Arthur after a second, looking away, and started off again, faster than was safe on the forest path. Merlin allowed himself a few seconds to lean against his horse and breathe before tethering her to a tree and collecting firewood.
Arthur arrived just as the sun was getting high the next day and Merlin was packing up his makeshift campsite to go after him. “Did you-?”
“Come on, we’re going back to Camelot,” said Arthur, and didn’t wait for him.
*
His mother wasn’t in her rooms when Arthur let himself into them, twenty minutes after riding through the castle gates. Merlin was somewhere behind him, perhaps just riding into the city judging by how fast Arthur pushed his horse, and if he had any instinct for self-preservation at all he would wait to talk to Arthur.
It only took five minutes for his mother to slip into the room, probably informed by a concerned servant. “Arthur? You were meant to be out on that hunt for another day, weren’t you?”
“It turns out my quarry was-I’m sorry.” She caught him a few steps into his pacing. He tried not to think about scorchmarks in grass that looked like they hadn’t healed over at all in nearly a year, of how Merlin had proved to be both more and less loyal than he’d thought, and how much that hurt. “I was looking for Nimueh, because you said you wanted to see her. She’s …”
Her eyes brimmed, but she didn’t cry. She just shook her head. “When she didn’t come, I thought she must be dead. At least you tried.”
She deserved nothing less than the truth. “Merlin killed her.”
That made her suck in a breath and stumble back, and he reached out, worried, but she steadied herself on the table and looked up at him. “Tell me.”
*
Since he’d had no message to the contrary, Merlin went to Arthur’s rooms as normal the day after they got back. Arthur was awake and dressed, which wasn’t a surprise. Merlin set out breakfast in silence. “You have the queen to thank for your continued employment,” Arthur said at last, staring at his plate but making no move to pick up anything to eat.
“Not for my life?”
“Kill you for sorcery when I was looking for a sorceress? I’m not a hypocrite. And you’ve apparently saved my life a great deal. I’d like to know why.”
“Because people keep trying to kill you.” The weak attempt at a joke fell flat. “Instinct, back when we hated each other. Then I just … didn’t want you to die.” He still had nightmares sometimes, about Arthur pale and feverish and poisoned, or sinking under the water, and the horrible empty feeling in his gut that came with it.
“But you wanted Nimueh to die?”
“No. But better her than you, if she wouldn’t kill me.” That made Arthur look up at him, startled for just one second. “Do you want me to tell you everything? I will, you know. Everything that’s mine to tell.”
“Not yet.”
Merlin fidgeted for a second before going about picking up the mess Arthur had made after he returned. He’d been angry. “You told the queen.”
“She had a right to know what happened to her friend.” Merlin just folded up the clothes that had been stuffed haphazard into Arthur’s travel bag. “She forgives you. She knew what you are, already, and I suppose she wasn’t surprised that Nimueh did awful things after her death, since my father did as well.”
“She knew?”
“Yes. Before I did.” Arthur’s tone was frosty enough to make Merlin flinch. “Who else knows?”
“My mother. Will, before he died. Gaius.” He had to turn to look at Arthur before the next few names. “Lancelot found out, by accident. The Druid boy we helped out of Camelot might have, I’m not sure. Freya, because I had to lift her curse. Your mother, apparently.” Arthur finally turned away from the table to look at him. “I only ever wanted to tell you.”
“Yet you didn’t.”
“Before your mother was brought back, would you have let me live?”
Arthur stopped to think about it instead of just saying one way or the other. “Yes,” he said at last. “I probably would have sent you away. Perhaps had you officially banished on some pretext.”
“Are you going to send me away now?”
“No.” Before Merlin could ask any more questions, Arthur stood up, picking up a piece of bread from his plate as he went. “Do your usual chores. I’m going to take audiences with my mother today, my father is dealing with urgent business about the treaty, Alined is trying to go back on it.” It was all almost normal for an instant, and then Arthur paused at the door. “Stay out from underfoot as best you can, for the next few days,” he added after a second’s deliberation, and didn’t quite slam the door on his way out.
*
“Merlin,” Gwen called down the corridor the next afternoon.
He was halfway back to Arthur’s chambers to fold Arthur’s laundry in oppressive silence, if Arthur was even there, so he was more than glad to turn around. Gwen was biting her lip and looking at him like she wasn’t quite sure what to think. “What can I do for you? Is something wrong?”
“Morgana says she wants to speak to you. Alone.”
If Arthur had told anyone besides Queen Ygraine about Merlin, it would be Morgana, and he didn’t want to imagine her reaction. She deserved to know, even more now that Arthur knew, but he wanted to tell her himself. Still, though, she probably would have found him herself if it were that. Gwen’s presence meant something else. “I’ll go right there.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know what she wants me for, but I’ll let you know if it’s anything you need to know about.” He reversed direction and walked back past Gwen towards Morgana’s chambers, expecting her to fall in next to him as he went. When he paused to wait for her, she just shook her head and went down a side corridor towards the kitchens.
Morgana called him in by name when he knocked, and when he came in, she was standing, pacing like Arthur did when he was upset. She looked as tired as she had for the past several months, but shocked as well, like something new had happened. “Gaius came to see me this morning,” she said without preamble when the door was shut.
“With the new sleeping draught? I know he’s been working on one.”
“And you know as well as he and I that there’s no sleeping draught that can help me.” Morgana takes a deep, shaky breath and turns to face him completely. “He finally saw fit to tell me what I’ve known since the Druid camp. That I’m a Seer, but that he doesn’t know how to train me. That it’s dangerous to have magic in Uther’s court, as if I didn’t know it before.”
Merlin blinked. Gaius hadn’t told him he’d changed his mind, or that he was going to speak to Morgana. “Why are you telling me, my lady?”
“You’re the only other one who knows, unless Gwen has guessed.” She clenched her fists. “He dares to tell me as if I don’t already know, as if I didn’t have a right to know the moment he knew what my nightmares were. He pretended he thought me mad along with everyone else in-did he tell you, Merlin?”
She deserved the truth just like Arthur did. Probably more than Arthur did. “He said it was best if you never knew, to keep you safe.” The dragon had said the same, for different reasons, but Merlin wouldn’t let himself think about that. “It’s why I … the Druids. If he wouldn’t help you, they could, at least. I know it doesn’t help, but I wanted to tell you everything.”
Morgana and Arthur were disconcertingly alike, sometimes, even if they both denied it. She took a deep breath in through her nose, eyes closed as she controlled her first reaction. “I suppose I can’t blame you. Uther would have killed you for even hinting at such things, if he found out. At the very least, he would have had Aredian’s eyes on you from the beginning, when he came.”
“Yes, and he would have …” The truth. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said first. “If I knew for sure how to help you, I would have told you, no matter what Gaius said.”
“Merlin.”
His voice deserted him, so he reached out a shaky hand and met her eyes as he made the vase of flowers Gwen must have put on her table hover a few inches in the air. He put it down when she took a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.”
Morgana stiffened up, went from wary to furious in under a second, and Merlin flinched back. “Get out.”
“My lady?”
“Out of my chambers. I can’t even look at you right now. You knew, you could have helped me, I didn’t have to be alone, and you-”
He could only repeat what he’d already said, miserable: “I’m sorry.”
“Out!” The window was rattling in its casing.
Merlin backed out, shut the door after him, closed his eyes, and leaned, trying to get his breath back. Arthur’s reaction was worse, if only because Merlin wanted him to understand so badly, but the look of betrayed anger on Morgana’s face wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He didn’t know how long it was before someone interrupted the silence. “Merlin?”
For a second, he thought it was Gwen, but when he opened his eyes, it was the queen. He scrambled to stand up straight. “My lady, I’m sorry, did you need something?”
“I thought I would stop by to see Morgana, but I think I ought to talk to you instead.”
No matter how she phrased it, her tone made it clear that it wasn’t an option. Merlin nodded and stepped away from the wall. “Not right here, though.”
“No, in my chambers. Uther is doing business and Arthur is in training, so we won’t be interrupted.”
He followed her down the hall, trailing a few steps behind like he rarely did with Arthur, and kept his head down until they entered her room. He would have waited for her to speak-he deserved anything she had to say, and his day couldn’t get much worse-but when the silence stretched on for over a minute, he looked up at her. “I wouldn’t have, if I could have thought of another way. I’m sorry.”
“Nimueh cared for me, in her own way, every bit as much and as fiercely as Uther. If he went a bit mad with the grief and the guilt, I can’t fault her for doing the same, and I can’t fault you for defending those you love.”
“Arthur said …” Ygraine nodded, encouraging him as if she knew what he was going to say. Merlin swallowed. “Arthur said that you already knew that I have magic.”
“It was the way you looked, when I told the stories. You and Morgana both.”
Morgana, who might never forgive him for lying. “Thank you for not telling anyone.”
“It wasn’t my secret, and just because I love my husband doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.”
“I meant Arthur.”
“You obviously care about him.” Merlin nodded, not quite able to trust his words. Ygraine smiled tightly. “That’s why I trust you even though you killed Nimueh. I trust that there was a reason, because you’re protecting Arthur and I couldn’t. That was what was missing from all the stories you told me while I was still staying with Gaius, wasn’t it?” He nodded again. “Sometime, I’ll ask you for the whole story. For now … thank you, for taking care of him.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it my pleasure, your Majesty, but thank you. For thanking me.” At least there was one person in the palace who wasn’t ready to have him thrown out on his ear. He could only imagine what Morgana would tell Gwen when she went back.
“Someone had to, and Arthur won’t. Morgana likely won’t either, for a while.” She smiled for real, and Merlin was suddenly reminded how close to their age she really was, perhaps two or three years older than her own son. “Now, you ought to get going. I may not know Arthur well, but if he’s anything like his father you being late with your chores won’t improve his temper any.” Merlin grimaced at the thought of Arthur’s normal displeasure on top of the icy silence. “Yes, exactly.”
Merlin sketched a quick bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
*
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” said Morgana.
Merlin, kneeling under Gaius’s table to scrub the floor properly because being in Arthur’s chambers with nothing but silence was becoming too much to bear after nearly two weeks, tried to straighten up in surprise and only hit his head on the underside of the table. “Ow,” he muttered, and crawled out from under the table before sitting up again. “My lady?”
“I can’t forgive you for lying to me like you did, not yet, but this is more important than that.” She shut the door. “Is Gaius here?” He shook his head. “Good. You know how to control your magic, don’t you? Better than I do?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to do what’s needed most of the time. What’s the matter?”
“I had a dream last night.”
Merlin allowed himself a second to close his eyes and brace himself. He’d been wondering when an attack would come. The queen’s resurrection had given them a reprieve while everyone waited to see what Uther would do, but nothing was changing, so it was only a matter of time before they started in again. “Who’s in danger this time?”
It took Morgana a while to answer, long enough that he dared to look up at her. She wasn’t outright glaring, but she certainly wasn’t happy. “Someday, not today, you’ll tell me why that sounds like something you say often. Today, we’re solving this. Arthur’s in danger.”
Of course it was Arthur, who would still barely look at Merlin, instead of Uther, who at least would be blissfully ignorant of his near miss or anyone else who might have felt at least a bit of gratitude. “What’s going to happen?”
“I believe he’s on patrol when it happens, since he’s in the woods. Some sort of creature attacks. Something like a small dragon. It kills the others, and attacks Arthur. I woke up before I could tell if it succeeds in killing him.”
Merlin levered himself to his feet. “He leaves for a patrol tomorrow morning.” Morgana nodded. “I’ll try and figure out what the creature is, and how to stop it.” She nodded again, and turned around to go. “Do you want to help?” he blurted before she could.
Morgana turned back and almost, almost smiled. “Yes.”
*
The next day, after nearly a full night of research and then giving in and actually begging Arthur to go on patrol with him (not that it made any difference besides making Arthur look annoyed instead of expressionless), Merlin found himself sneaking through the woods after Arthur and his knights.
They’d decided, with Gaius’s help after he returned from his rounds, that what Morgana had seen was a wyvern, something like a dragon but not quite, and that it would probably take something like what Merlin had done with the griffin to get rid of it. He almost went to the dragon for advice, but he knew there would be almost no way to get away without promising more concretely to let it free, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust it. Not until Uther changed his mind about magic. He would just work on instinct, if something went wrong.
And something inevitably did, of course.
Merlin lost the patrol’s trail when they crossed a stream at a place he couldn’t on his own and he had to go a ways out of his way. It was then, of course, that the creature decided to attack, and he found Arthur and his men again by the sound of the animal’s shrieks and the knights’ shouts. Merlin ran, but most of Arthur’s companions were already down by the time he got there, and Arthur had his sword out, battling off the wyvern, which kept itself between Arthur and-a nest. Morgana hadn’t seen that. No wonder the wyvern was attacking.
If it could reason, like the dragon, Merlin might have just tried to stop it, but he didn’t have the luxury. He whispered the spell that made Arthur’s sword glow blue, but the second Arthur noticed his sword in the middle of the battle he looked wildly around instead of striking, and the wyvern nearly opened his scalp up.
And, like always, there was the thought: Not Arthur. Please, not Arthur. There was at least one knight left on his feet besides Arthur-Leon, he thought, though he wasn’t paying attention-but he didn’t care. Arthur knew, which was what mattered, and Merlin could offer protection. He ran out of his cover and directly towards the wyvern’s nest, ignoring Arthur’s shout. He could defend himself better, since it seemed Arthur wasn’t going to wield a spelled sword.
The wyvern saw him and changed course in midair. It swooped low, and he ducked it, preparing some of the spells he and Morgana and Gaius had researched. Arthur was still yelling, calling him an idiot, and someone else was too, or maybe a few more. “Your sword,” he shouted, but the wyvern chose that moment to let out a screech and he didn’t know if Arthur heard.
A second later, he twisted out of the way of the wyvern’s attack, though its claws raked into his arm, throwing him off-balance, before it wheeled to go for Arthur again, because Arthur was charging at them. Hopefully more at the wyvern than Merlin, but his sword was still glowing and he didn’t look happy about it, so there was a small chance he didn’t care much who he hit. Merlin stumbled a few steps and raised his hand to send a blast of fire to distract it, but Arthur hit him running and tumbled them both to the ground. “Don’t you dare, there are people watching, I can’t protect you,” said Arthur, aiming a swipe as he tried to roll to his feet again.
Merlin grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down away from another scratch of claws. “Use your sword, then.”
Thankfully, Arthur didn’t argue, though when Merlin tried to get up with him he was shoved unceremoniously back down. The other knights weren’t getting up-unconscious or dead or injured, and the few on their feet weren’t a concern for the wyvern, with Arthur and Merlin just feet from its nest. Arthur swung his sword again as soon as he was on his feet, and the wyvern let out a shriek of pain but came back seconds later and knocked Arthur’s sword out of his hands. It fell to the ground, the magic leaking out of it as soon as it left Arthur’s hands.
Merlin tried to do the spell again, but Arthur had his knife out and was far too close to the wyvern for his peace of mind, so he got to his feet again, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and blasted it back with a jet of fire. He didn’t even get the luxury of a moment’s silence or shock from Arthur, or whatever other knights were still conscious, because the flame only angered the creature more and it was back before he could check their reactions.
From there, it was just as much a fight with Arthur as it was with the wyvern, because Arthur picked up his sword and attempted to get Merlin out of the way whenever he could, while Merlin tried to spell the sword again so they could actually kill it and failed. Finally, he grabbed Arthur’s hand when he was shoved out of the way again and wrapped his hand over Arthur’s on the hilt, getting the spell out at the expense of the wyvern clouting him around the head. He saw the gold in his eyes reflected in Arthur’s before he was shoved aside, all the way to the ground, bleeding and hurting and looking up at Arthur as he waited for the wyvern to swoop back and then stabbed it with his sword glowing blue.
The wyvern crashed ungracefully to the ground, but Merlin wasn’t paying attention and neither, it seemed, was Arthur. Arthur was dirty and breathing hard, but he was looking at Merlin again, eyes wide and almost confused, and Merlin managed something that he hoped was a hazy smile before he passed out.
*
“Nobody is to say a word to my father,” said Arthur, staring down at the ground and Merlin, bloody and unconscious.
It shouldn’t have been the first thing he said. He should have asked how many knights had been lost, how many were just injured, but when he turned around Leon was checking on that, only looking up long enough to nod sharply at Arthur’s words. Some of the other knights were groaning and levering themselves to their feet, and others were unconscious, but if they’d lost any, it was only one or two. A minute or two longer without Merlin, though, and they might not have been so lucky.
Merlin, who had thrown himself into danger for Arthur’s sake and wielded fire and light even though the knights were watching, and who’d been knocked unconscious for his troubles.
For the first time, Arthur didn’t think of how many times Merlin had saved his life, building up a life debt Arthur couldn’t hope to repay, one that forced him to lie to his father. Instead, he wondered how many times Merlin’s life had been in danger without Arthur’s knowledge. How close he’d come to losing him like his father lost his mother, unprepared and with no idea how to go on. His stomach clenched at the thought of it.
He lifted Merlin off the ground and looked back at Leon. “Let’s get as many as we can back on their horses and go back to Camelot. Check the nest and see if there’s anything else in it.”
*
“My father turned a blind eye to an accusation of magic today,” Arthur said the day Merlin went back to work.
Merlin nearly dropped the pillow he was meant to be fluffing. Arthur wasn’t looking up from his papers, but he didn’t seem nearly as casual as he was pretending to be. “Why?”
“Because the one accused was a child, and my mother said please.” Merlin snorted, and Arthur sighed in response. “I can’t promise that you’ll have to stop hiding soon, Merlin, but he’s changing his mind, since she came back. Just as that sorceress intended.”
When Arthur finally looked at him, Merlin looked away. “Does that mean …” His voice deserted him. He fluffed the pillow a few more times for good measure, even though Arthur made an impatient noise. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“I’m not ungrateful. I owe you a great deal, and I suppose understanding of your need to lie would be the least of it.” He couldn’t read Arthur’s tone, but at least it wasn’t as cold as it had been recently.
Merlin tried to smile and put down the pillow in favor of walking over to Arthur’s table. “Last time I got rewarded for saving your life I got enslaved to you, you know. I’m not sure I want rewards for the rest. I would probably end up fetching water for the cobbler or something.”
Arthur just continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I think the position of Court Sorcerer will go some way towards paying the debt, when the time comes.” He stood up before Merlin could school his expression and catch his breath. “Perhaps my father will relent enough to allow it before his death. Perhaps it won’t be until he dies, but as far as I’m concerned you’re the best hope we have, where magic is concerned.”
When Arthur didn’t make a joke immediately after, Merlin tried to find his voice in spite of how close Arthur was standing and how serious he looked. He wanted to blurt out that Gaius did most of the research, really, and how the dragon advised him more often than Merlin wanted to admit, or to say that Morgana would give him a run for his money for Court Sorcerer, but it wasn’t the time for those conversations, at least not yet. Morgana’s secret was her own to tell, anyway. “I’ll keep helping you anyway.”
Arthur nearly smiled. “You always do.”
“Well.” Merlin shrugged. “Apparently we have a destiny.” That made Arthur’s expression shut down, and Merlin cursed himself. He never wanted that as a reason in the first place, for all it was still the argument the dragon and Gaius used most. “I’d keep saving you anyway, though, just because it’s unreasonable how many people try to kill you in a given year. You need someone around to even the odds.”
That time, Arthur did smile. “I’m amazed I didn’t figure it out before, really. I’ve felt as if someone’s been watching out for me, since you came to Camelot, because of all my close calls, but I never imagined it was you.”
“That’s because you think I’m useless.”
“You are a useless manservant.” Arthur looked pointedly at the bed, which was still rumpled despite Merlin’s best attempts at making it, though in Merlin’s defense his shoulder still hurt from the wyvern’s attack and he’d been distracted by Arthur. “But you’re a better sorcerer. Before you swooned like a girl the other day-we wouldn’t have survived without you.”
“I didn’t swoon,” Merlin objected automatically, a bit breathless with how close Arthur was standing and how he never looked away from Merlin’s eyes. “The damn wyvern hit me on the head.”
Arthur raised his head and touched it gently to where the knot on Merlin’s skull was. Merlin winced, and the hand dropped to settle on his good shoulder. “Like a girl,” he repeated, but he sounded fond and a little hoarse, and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to object again. “Merlin-”
“Yes.” It was the only possible answer to anything Arthur was going to say while he looked like that, even if he had no idea what was going on. And what he thought was going on surely couldn’t actually be going on, because Merlin hadn’t seen that look on Arthur’s face for a while, and he’d thought he imagined it if it was ever directed at him.
For a moment, Merlin was sure that Arthur was going to back down from whatever happened next, make some joke about Merlin needing to finish making his bed or polish his swords or take his shirts to the laundry. Instead, he just kept smiling. “Yes what, Merlin?”
“Yes, I’ll be your Court Sorcerer, or …” He trailed off and grabbed Arthur’s hand instead, to lower his head and press a kiss where Arthur would wear a signet ring someday. “Just, yes.”
That made Arthur catch in a startled breath, and when Merlin dared to look up, releasing Arthur’s hand as he did, he was staring at Merlin’s mouth. He started to speak, probably to ask Merlin if he was sure, if he knew what he was offering, but Merlin didn’t want to hear it. It had been coming, probably for longer than either of them had acknowledged, so he just looped his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him.
Arthur’s lips were chapped, but his mouth was soft and warm and he responded instantly, like Merlin’s kiss was something he’d been waiting for. His hands fluttered for a moment, indecisive in a way Arthur never was, before settling at Merlin’s waist, and Merlin kissed him openmouthed in response.
When they pulled apart, Merlin rested his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder, hiding the silly grin Arthur would surely mock him for. “Merlin,” said Arthur, and he could hear him smiling.
His voice only shook a bit when he answered. “So what you’re saying is that I’m forgiven?”
Arthur tilted his head up again to meet his eyes. “What I’m saying is ‘thank you.’”
*
The harvest was just beginning when Uther pardoned a sorcerer before the full court for the first time.
Merlin was hovering behind Arthur’s seat-lower on the dais, now that Ygraine had Arthur’s old one for the foreseeable future-when the guards shoved in a boy about his age, maybe a bit younger, sullen and with his face bruised. “Who is this?” the queen asked, putting her hand on top of Uther’s.
“He’s a confessed sorcerer, your Majesty,” said one of the guards.
Only someone looking hard would see the way Arthur, Morgana, and Ygraine all flinched at once, but Merlin was looking. He clenched his fists so he wouldn’t reach out to Arthur and glanced at Gwen, who was patting Morgana’s shoulder under cover of giving her a drink of water. She didn’t bother to look at the accused sorcerer, because everyone in the room knew he was doomed, if he’d confessed, and he was a full-grown man, not one of the children for whose lives the queen had pled. She just looked at Morgana, brows knit with worry, while Morgana went white.
“Our crops were dying!” shouted the sorcerer. “I did what I had to do.”
Everyone waited for Uther to send him to the dungeons to wait for his execution. It never mattered what they said, after all. “You should have sent to Camelot for help,” Uther said instead. “Why use sorcery?”
“There wasn’t enough time.”
“And you used it only to save the crops in your village?”
That was when the whispers started, and Merlin looked from the king, who looked as angry and impassive as ever, to the sorcerer, whose anger was turning into shock, to Arthur, who was just staring at his father like he’d never seen him before in his life. “I did what I had to do,” the sorcerer said again, and he was still belligerent, but it was fading out of him by the second.
Uther turned his gaze to the guards. “Is there anyone else from the village present? Has anyone been hurt or poisoned by the crops this man touched?”
One of the guards shook his head; he must have been on the patrol. “We don’t know, it had only been a day since the crops started flourishing again when we left.”
“My parents eat that grain, I wouldn’t-”
“Be silent, you are on trial,” said Uther, and by some miracle the sorcerer shut his mouth. “You meant no harm?”
All the whispers went dead silent, and Merlin forgot himself and clasped his arm on the back of Arthur’s chair so he wouldn’t fall down. “Of course I didn’t,” said the sorcerer, and his voice was so full of scorn that Merlin was sure Uther would have him executed for insolence instead of sorcery.
“Have him taken to the dungeon. In a week, check the crops in his village. If no one is ill and they still flourish, allow him to go free.”
People were talking, Uther was saying something about mercy, but Merlin couldn’t pay attention, couldn’t think. The sorcerer’s defiance was leaking out of him, replaced by shock. The queen had a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile or tears, and when Uther reached out to pat her hand as he often did, she didn’t just give him a nod as always, she grabbed his hand and kissed it in front of the whole court. Merlin just held on to Arthur’s chair, sure the wild grin he had inside of him was showing on his face just as Morgana’s fierce happiness was all on the surface.
Uther heard two other cases but Merlin kept clutching, white-knuckled, until Arthur rose during a break and jerked his head towards the door when Merlin nearly forgot to follow him. “Training,” said Arthur, nodding to his father and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek as he went by. “Come along, Merlin.”
They made it as far as an alcove before Arthur let them stop and pulled Merlin into the darkness. Merlin reached out and Arthur caught him by the collar to pull him close and let him calm his mind. “Did you know he was going to do that?” Merlin asked at last.
“No, I’d no idea. I knew my mother was trying to change his mind, but I didn’t think he would ever bend.” Arthur’s lips were at his temple, his breath ruffling Merlin’s hair. “Do you know what this means?”
“It won’t-it can’t be any time soon. But maybe even before you’re king …” And Uther would pass down a kingdom to his son that wasn’t roiling with thousands of hidden sorcerers and druids ready to kill the heir, if it happened soon enough. The word would spread, and if Uther let the sorcerer go, he would have to release others as well, when they came.
“I can’t even imagine what we’ll do.”
Merlin stepped back and whispered a spell that made a flame spark up in his palm. When Arthur held out a hand as if to touch it, Merlin clasped their hands together, the fire between them, and made sure it wouldn’t burn. “I can.”
Arthur smiled. “Show me more.”
*
In the afternoons afternoons, Ygraine sometimes thought her room was the busiest in the castle. When he wasn’t busy, Uther would come, and it was always quieter when he was there, but she didn’t mind, because during those times she saw the man she’d married more and more often.
When Uther wasn’t there, it was most often the children, though in truth they were more friends, given the closeness of their age. Arthur would sit at her table with business or just to listen to her stories, his smile freer than it had been when she first woke. She couldn’t take all the credit for that, though, for with Arthur came Merlin. He’d come shyly at first, and stood in a corner unable to meet her eyes, but more often now, he sat next to Arthur and they bumped shoulders and smiled when they thought no one was looking. Morgana came as well, nearly always wearing the bracelet that Uther had confiscated from the person of the sorceress who brought Ygraine back to life, which had the mark of the house of Gorlois on it. She looked less tired, as time went on, and she smiled more, though it took a long time before she would smile at Merlin. Gwen sat near her lady, her worry gentled, and sewed or sat, rarely speaking.
When Ygraine could, she did the work of looking through papers and ledger books, catching up on years and history, but mostly she sat and listened to them chatter, and told stories of the Camelot she remembered in return.
“I was thinking,” Arthur said one evening, “that I might try to find this Nimueh my mother keeps talking about.”
Merlin dropped the dagger he was polishing, only half on purpose, and took his time bending under the table to pick it up so he could hide his initial reaction. “Why-why would you do that?” He groped for the dagger and sliced his fingers on it, still fumbling through his shock.
“Honestly, Merlin.” Merlin managed to get his expression under control, at least mostly, and straightened up, wiping the blood off on his polishing cloth. Arthur’s eyes fixed on the streak of red before he could continue with his previous subject or with mocking Merlin for incompetence, and he moved as if he might grab Merlin’s arm to see the damage for himself. Merlin curled his fingers up, and Arthur leaned back again. “Do you need bandages?”
“No, sire. Why do you want to find Nimueh?” She tried to kill you once. More than once. But had she introduced herself to Arthur, when he went to find a cure for Merlin?
Arthur sighed and toyed with his cup. “Because perhaps my father was wrong about her. My mother thinks so, at least. And she … misses her, I think. Most of her friends from then are dead. I suppose there’s a chance that Nimueh is as well, but it might be worth a try.”
It wasn’t, but how could Merlin tell Arthur that? He’d been listening to Queen Ygraine’s stories of magic in a way Merlin never could have hoped for, but that didn’t mean he would forgive Merlin for everything he’d done. “Your father might still kill her. More than he would any other sorcerers, I mean.”
“I could arrange a meeting, though. Somehow.” Arthur set his jaw. “I’d like to meet her. To know if it was really an accident, or if she meant …”
She meant to kill you. She meant to kill my mother. She meant to kill Gaius. “I’ve got to go,” he blurted. “Just remembered, Gaius was going to try brewing something new for Morgana and-”
“You’re very scared of magic, aren’t you?” Arthur asked, somewhere between amused and serious.
Merlin thought of Sophia nearly drowning Arthur, of the afanc and Nimueh’s ease trading lives for lives and fighting off Sigan within his own mind. And then he thought of saving lives and silly tricks and doing chores and Freya’s smile when he’d snuck down to the dungeon to see her while she was proving the curse was lifted and he made candle flames dance for her. “Sometimes,” he settled on.
“That’s odd, when Will was a sorcerer. A powerful one, if that show in Ealdor was any indication.”
“I trusted Will. That doesn’t mean I trust every sorcerer I meet.” It was the closest he could get to not lying. He finished swiping the cloth over the dagger standing up, fingers wrapped up in the cloth so he didn’t bleed on it any more. He wasn’t finished with all of Arthur’s weapons, but he had to get out and think of something that would keep him from chasing after Nimueh. “May I go to Gaius now, sire?”
For a second, Arthur looked at him in the way that made Merlin’s heart go rabbit-fast, like Arthur could see right through him and knew, somehow. Then he dropped his eyes and picked up the dagger as Merlin set it down, giving it one last polish with his sleeve, and Merlin could breathe again. “Yes. Of course. I’ll expect you at the usual time in the morning.”
Merlin babbled something that he hoped was a proper good night and fled.
Gaius was there when he got back, and Merlin opened his mouth to let it all come out in a flood and beg for advice even though he knew Gaius would caution him, tell him to keep lying just a bit longer. Gaius looked up, startled and tired, and he closed his mouth again.
Instead of speaking, Merlin just went to where Gaius was working and started helping him to chop up the herbs.
*
“Pack for both of us, for a few days’ journey,” Arthur said at lunch the next day. “We’re leaving in the morning.”
“On a hunt?” Merlin asked, without much hope.
“I asked my mother where this Nimueh might be found, this morning. She told me of a place called the Isle of the Blessed. I’ve heard of it only in legends, but she says it was where the priestesses of the Old Religion had their base and that if Nimueh is alive there might be sign of her there.”
“Does your father know?”
“We’ll make it look as if it’s just a hunt. There have been no attacks from sorcery since that sorceress brought my mother back. Camelot is as safe as it’s ever been.” Arthur must have read some of Merlin’s trepidation on his face, because he went sober all at once. “I won’t order you to come if it bothers you this much, Merlin.” His lips twitched. “You great girl.”
“No, I’ll-I’ll come.” It would be easier to tell Arthur the truth outside of Camelot, and it was what he would have to do, otherwise he would never give up on finding Nimueh. That way, if it went badly, he could run. “Leaving early?”
“Yes, it’s nearly a day’s ride.”
“Then if there’s nothing else you need me for, I’ll take care of what needs to be done before we leave for a few days. Packing, last-minute chores for Gaius, all that.”
Arthur shrugged. “Yes, go. I’ve got training this afternoon and the squires can take care of my needs, and then I’ll be taking dinner with my father and mother and Morgana, where you’ll be expected to serve, so you’d best finish your chores by then, and then I’ll want my sword sharpened before we go tomorrow.”
All told, it wasn’t the worst day of chores Merlin had ever had to deal with, although most of his days didn’t involve packing up all his most precious and treasonous possessions to take out on a quest in case Arthur banished him or tried to kill him. “Yes, sire.” He ran into Gwen halfway back to the tower and nearly knocked her basket of laundry out of her hands. “Shall I walk you to Morgana’s room?” he asked after he rescued a slipping shift off the top of the neat pile.
Gwen smiled, but she still looked nearly as tired as Morgana. “Don’t you have something else to be doing?”
“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes.” If it went badly with Arthur, it might … but no, he wasn’t thinking like that. Arthur was changing his mind about magic, with his mother back, the question was just if he would forgive Merlin in specific for it. “It’s been a while since we had a chance to talk. Is Morgana still …?”
“Her nightmares got worse after the queen returned. She says she dreams about the sorceress that did it, but I don’t know.”
Perhaps he would have to tell her, too, if Arthur let him come back to Camelot. Gaius wasn’t always right, and if Morgana was getting worse maybe he could do something for her if she knew. “I’m sorry.” Gwen gave him a surprised sideways look, and he nudged her with a smile to change the subject. “If I haven’t seen you, it must be getting in the way of you and Arthur as well.”
To his surprise, she didn’t blush and duck her head like she had at first when he teased her about Arthur. “I don’t think so. He’s so busy with the queen, these days. It’s been a while since we last spoke.”
Merlin blinked and thought through the last several weeks, and how Arthur hadn’t been sneaking off whenever he could to “accidentally” run into Gwen in the corridors. Had they even spoken since the witchfinder? “I guess I’ll have to-”
“Merlin.” She stopped walking, so he stopped with her. “It was a lovely dream while it lasted, but I was never meant to be queen of Camelot, or Arthur’s wife. I’m just glad to call him my friend.”
Come to that, there had been little aside from looking between them since Hengist took Gwen, and he knew what the answer to that might be. “Lancelot?” he asked, because he might as well, and trotted after her when she started walking again. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”
“He left,” she said after a few more steps, “without even letting me say goodbye. I don’t know if I can forgive him for that. But I also know it isn’t fair to Arthur or any of us to continue on knowing there’s something unfinished like that.”
Merlin almost asked if Arthur knew that, but Arthur had barely even looked at Gwen since the sorceress brought his mother back, and when he wasn’t with her he seemed content to boss Merlin around his room like usual. He probably knew. It was just Merlin who had missed it, and Merlin who had no right to feel the quiet stirring of relief over it. “Pity,” he said as lightly as he could, “you might have kept Arthur from being a complete prat when he takes the throne.”
“He’ll have his mother around for that.” Gwen finally smiled again and looked at him. “Not to mention you. Now, you’re going in the opposite direction to what you should be, and I have Morgana’s linens to change. We’ll talk soon.”
“We will,” said Merlin, hoping he wasn’t lying, and gave her hand a quick clasp before heading back towards Gaius’s tower.
*
Merlin waited until they were three hours’ ride from Camelot to pull his horse up and clear his throat. Arthur turned around, and Merlin caught the end of him rolling his eyes. “You can’t possibly be tired already.”
“No, I just. I need to talk to you, before we go any farther.” He stayed on the horse. Arthur was the better rider, but on foot he would have no chance at all unless he used magic against Arthur, and he didn’t want to do that. He might lose Arthur’s trust by telling the truth, but he wouldn’t make it worse. “It’s important.”
Instead of making a joke, Arthur spent a few seconds on the edge of a glare before nodding. “Fine, then. If you think you must tell me right this second, then tell me.”
“We’re not going to find Nimueh.”
Arthur really did glare that time. “Really, Merlin? And how would you know that?”
There were a hundred ways to say it, but Merlin couldn’t force any of them out quite yet. “Remember the woman you met when you were searching for the Morteus flower?” he asked instead, ignoring Arthur’s growl. “That was her. Nimueh. She was the one who poisoned me, too, and she did … she was responsible for a lot of things that happened last year. The afanc. The wraith that almost killed your father.”
“Right.” If Arthur’s hands weren’t on the reins, he probably would have been crossing his arms. “And you know this how?”
“Gaius, mostly.”
“So she’s my father’s enemy. He blamed her for something that was just as much his fault, I can’t in good conscience blame her for going a bit mad. What makes you so sure we won’t find her?”
“I killed her.”
Arthur started laughing and spurred his horse on. “Very funny, Merlin. You killed the greatest sorceress my mother knew. How? By spilling wine on her?”
Merlin didn’t bother following after him. Instead, he whispered a quiet spell. The ball of bluish light that floated from his palm towards Arthur looked less impressive in broad daylight, but Arthur would recognize it. And did, judging by the way he froze when it stopped to hover a few feet in front of him. The horse, well-trained, went still as well, and there was a silence that felt like it lasted centuries before Arthur turned. There was no expression on his face at all. “With magic,” said Merlin.
“When?” Arthur asked, and it sounded like he was forcing it out.
“The Questing Beast. She didn’t send it, I don’t think you can send them, but you were dying, and I went for a cure. To the Isle of the Blessed.” Arthur turned his horse around and came just a bit closer. It wasn’t a comfort. “It was-a life for a life. If you took the cure, water from the Cup of Life, someone else would have to die.”
“So you killed her, because she’d hurt Camelot in the past?”
Merlin clenched his hands on the reins. The light next to Arthur went out. “I traded my life for yours. I thought that was the deal, it was always supposed to be me, so I-”
“You said goodbye to me.”
“Yes. And I was ready, but I woke up alive, and my mother was there, and you were getting better but she was-she was dying. So I got ready to go back to the Isle, to make sure it was me. Gaius tried to go in my place, and when I got there he was nearly dead. I couldn’t think, so I just … I killed her. I wanted it to be me.”
Arthur’s jaw worked. “Show me.”
“It was lightning. There are too many trees around. But when I left the Isle the ground was still scorched from it. I can show you-”
“How long have you been doing magic?”
“My whole life.”
“And since you’ve come to Camelot?”
“I’ve protected you. And Camelot, and your father.” He tried a smile, though in the face of Arthur’s stony expression it felt more like a grimace. “And I’ve done chores with it.”
“Chores,” Arthur said flatly. “You are aware that magic is illegal in Camelot, aren’t you?”
There were no satisfactory answers to that. Shouting out the amount of times that he’d saved Arthur or Camelot wouldn’t do anything, at least not yet. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, I know. I would rather have you alive than not.”
Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply a few times. Merlin’s horse shied a bit, edgy. “How many times? Just … a number. I don’t want the stories.”
“How many times-”
“How many times have you saved my life, Merlin?”
“Directly, maybe six or seven. A few more than that indirectly.”
“Right.” Arthur opened his eyes, but he looked away like he didn’t want to see him, and Merlin tried not to wince. “You-stay here. Make camp, if you like, or don’t. I’m going on to the Isle alone. To see if there’s still proof.”
“Arthur-”
“I need to think.” Arthur turned his horse again, let it take a few steps away. Merlin held his reins tighter to keep his from following automatically. “If you aren’t here when I return, I will go looking for you, Merlin. That is a promise.”
Merlin dismounted. “Fine. But if you aren’t back by midday tomorrow I’m coming after you. I don’t know if anyone will show up and want to hurt you, and I can’t …”
For a second, Arthur softened, and Merlin reached out. “I’ll be back before then,” said Arthur after a second, looking away, and started off again, faster than was safe on the forest path. Merlin allowed himself a few seconds to lean against his horse and breathe before tethering her to a tree and collecting firewood.
Arthur arrived just as the sun was getting high the next day and Merlin was packing up his makeshift campsite to go after him. “Did you-?”
“Come on, we’re going back to Camelot,” said Arthur, and didn’t wait for him.
*
His mother wasn’t in her rooms when Arthur let himself into them, twenty minutes after riding through the castle gates. Merlin was somewhere behind him, perhaps just riding into the city judging by how fast Arthur pushed his horse, and if he had any instinct for self-preservation at all he would wait to talk to Arthur.
It only took five minutes for his mother to slip into the room, probably informed by a concerned servant. “Arthur? You were meant to be out on that hunt for another day, weren’t you?”
“It turns out my quarry was-I’m sorry.” She caught him a few steps into his pacing. He tried not to think about scorchmarks in grass that looked like they hadn’t healed over at all in nearly a year, of how Merlin had proved to be both more and less loyal than he’d thought, and how much that hurt. “I was looking for Nimueh, because you said you wanted to see her. She’s …”
Her eyes brimmed, but she didn’t cry. She just shook her head. “When she didn’t come, I thought she must be dead. At least you tried.”
She deserved nothing less than the truth. “Merlin killed her.”
That made her suck in a breath and stumble back, and he reached out, worried, but she steadied herself on the table and looked up at him. “Tell me.”
*
Since he’d had no message to the contrary, Merlin went to Arthur’s rooms as normal the day after they got back. Arthur was awake and dressed, which wasn’t a surprise. Merlin set out breakfast in silence. “You have the queen to thank for your continued employment,” Arthur said at last, staring at his plate but making no move to pick up anything to eat.
“Not for my life?”
“Kill you for sorcery when I was looking for a sorceress? I’m not a hypocrite. And you’ve apparently saved my life a great deal. I’d like to know why.”
“Because people keep trying to kill you.” The weak attempt at a joke fell flat. “Instinct, back when we hated each other. Then I just … didn’t want you to die.” He still had nightmares sometimes, about Arthur pale and feverish and poisoned, or sinking under the water, and the horrible empty feeling in his gut that came with it.
“But you wanted Nimueh to die?”
“No. But better her than you, if she wouldn’t kill me.” That made Arthur look up at him, startled for just one second. “Do you want me to tell you everything? I will, you know. Everything that’s mine to tell.”
“Not yet.”
Merlin fidgeted for a second before going about picking up the mess Arthur had made after he returned. He’d been angry. “You told the queen.”
“She had a right to know what happened to her friend.” Merlin just folded up the clothes that had been stuffed haphazard into Arthur’s travel bag. “She forgives you. She knew what you are, already, and I suppose she wasn’t surprised that Nimueh did awful things after her death, since my father did as well.”
“She knew?”
“Yes. Before I did.” Arthur’s tone was frosty enough to make Merlin flinch. “Who else knows?”
“My mother. Will, before he died. Gaius.” He had to turn to look at Arthur before the next few names. “Lancelot found out, by accident. The Druid boy we helped out of Camelot might have, I’m not sure. Freya, because I had to lift her curse. Your mother, apparently.” Arthur finally turned away from the table to look at him. “I only ever wanted to tell you.”
“Yet you didn’t.”
“Before your mother was brought back, would you have let me live?”
Arthur stopped to think about it instead of just saying one way or the other. “Yes,” he said at last. “I probably would have sent you away. Perhaps had you officially banished on some pretext.”
“Are you going to send me away now?”
“No.” Before Merlin could ask any more questions, Arthur stood up, picking up a piece of bread from his plate as he went. “Do your usual chores. I’m going to take audiences with my mother today, my father is dealing with urgent business about the treaty, Alined is trying to go back on it.” It was all almost normal for an instant, and then Arthur paused at the door. “Stay out from underfoot as best you can, for the next few days,” he added after a second’s deliberation, and didn’t quite slam the door on his way out.
*
“Merlin,” Gwen called down the corridor the next afternoon.
He was halfway back to Arthur’s chambers to fold Arthur’s laundry in oppressive silence, if Arthur was even there, so he was more than glad to turn around. Gwen was biting her lip and looking at him like she wasn’t quite sure what to think. “What can I do for you? Is something wrong?”
“Morgana says she wants to speak to you. Alone.”
If Arthur had told anyone besides Queen Ygraine about Merlin, it would be Morgana, and he didn’t want to imagine her reaction. She deserved to know, even more now that Arthur knew, but he wanted to tell her himself. Still, though, she probably would have found him herself if it were that. Gwen’s presence meant something else. “I’ll go right there.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know what she wants me for, but I’ll let you know if it’s anything you need to know about.” He reversed direction and walked back past Gwen towards Morgana’s chambers, expecting her to fall in next to him as he went. When he paused to wait for her, she just shook her head and went down a side corridor towards the kitchens.
Morgana called him in by name when he knocked, and when he came in, she was standing, pacing like Arthur did when he was upset. She looked as tired as she had for the past several months, but shocked as well, like something new had happened. “Gaius came to see me this morning,” she said without preamble when the door was shut.
“With the new sleeping draught? I know he’s been working on one.”
“And you know as well as he and I that there’s no sleeping draught that can help me.” Morgana takes a deep, shaky breath and turns to face him completely. “He finally saw fit to tell me what I’ve known since the Druid camp. That I’m a Seer, but that he doesn’t know how to train me. That it’s dangerous to have magic in Uther’s court, as if I didn’t know it before.”
Merlin blinked. Gaius hadn’t told him he’d changed his mind, or that he was going to speak to Morgana. “Why are you telling me, my lady?”
“You’re the only other one who knows, unless Gwen has guessed.” She clenched her fists. “He dares to tell me as if I don’t already know, as if I didn’t have a right to know the moment he knew what my nightmares were. He pretended he thought me mad along with everyone else in-did he tell you, Merlin?”
She deserved the truth just like Arthur did. Probably more than Arthur did. “He said it was best if you never knew, to keep you safe.” The dragon had said the same, for different reasons, but Merlin wouldn’t let himself think about that. “It’s why I … the Druids. If he wouldn’t help you, they could, at least. I know it doesn’t help, but I wanted to tell you everything.”
Morgana and Arthur were disconcertingly alike, sometimes, even if they both denied it. She took a deep breath in through her nose, eyes closed as she controlled her first reaction. “I suppose I can’t blame you. Uther would have killed you for even hinting at such things, if he found out. At the very least, he would have had Aredian’s eyes on you from the beginning, when he came.”
“Yes, and he would have …” The truth. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said first. “If I knew for sure how to help you, I would have told you, no matter what Gaius said.”
“Merlin.”
His voice deserted him, so he reached out a shaky hand and met her eyes as he made the vase of flowers Gwen must have put on her table hover a few inches in the air. He put it down when she took a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.”
Morgana stiffened up, went from wary to furious in under a second, and Merlin flinched back. “Get out.”
“My lady?”
“Out of my chambers. I can’t even look at you right now. You knew, you could have helped me, I didn’t have to be alone, and you-”
He could only repeat what he’d already said, miserable: “I’m sorry.”
“Out!” The window was rattling in its casing.
Merlin backed out, shut the door after him, closed his eyes, and leaned, trying to get his breath back. Arthur’s reaction was worse, if only because Merlin wanted him to understand so badly, but the look of betrayed anger on Morgana’s face wasn’t something he ever wanted to see again. He didn’t know how long it was before someone interrupted the silence. “Merlin?”
For a second, he thought it was Gwen, but when he opened his eyes, it was the queen. He scrambled to stand up straight. “My lady, I’m sorry, did you need something?”
“I thought I would stop by to see Morgana, but I think I ought to talk to you instead.”
No matter how she phrased it, her tone made it clear that it wasn’t an option. Merlin nodded and stepped away from the wall. “Not right here, though.”
“No, in my chambers. Uther is doing business and Arthur is in training, so we won’t be interrupted.”
He followed her down the hall, trailing a few steps behind like he rarely did with Arthur, and kept his head down until they entered her room. He would have waited for her to speak-he deserved anything she had to say, and his day couldn’t get much worse-but when the silence stretched on for over a minute, he looked up at her. “I wouldn’t have, if I could have thought of another way. I’m sorry.”
“Nimueh cared for me, in her own way, every bit as much and as fiercely as Uther. If he went a bit mad with the grief and the guilt, I can’t fault her for doing the same, and I can’t fault you for defending those you love.”
“Arthur said …” Ygraine nodded, encouraging him as if she knew what he was going to say. Merlin swallowed. “Arthur said that you already knew that I have magic.”
“It was the way you looked, when I told the stories. You and Morgana both.”
Morgana, who might never forgive him for lying. “Thank you for not telling anyone.”
“It wasn’t my secret, and just because I love my husband doesn’t mean I agree with everything he does.”
“I meant Arthur.”
“You obviously care about him.” Merlin nodded, not quite able to trust his words. Ygraine smiled tightly. “That’s why I trust you even though you killed Nimueh. I trust that there was a reason, because you’re protecting Arthur and I couldn’t. That was what was missing from all the stories you told me while I was still staying with Gaius, wasn’t it?” He nodded again. “Sometime, I’ll ask you for the whole story. For now … thank you, for taking care of him.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it my pleasure, your Majesty, but thank you. For thanking me.” At least there was one person in the palace who wasn’t ready to have him thrown out on his ear. He could only imagine what Morgana would tell Gwen when she went back.
“Someone had to, and Arthur won’t. Morgana likely won’t either, for a while.” She smiled for real, and Merlin was suddenly reminded how close to their age she really was, perhaps two or three years older than her own son. “Now, you ought to get going. I may not know Arthur well, but if he’s anything like his father you being late with your chores won’t improve his temper any.” Merlin grimaced at the thought of Arthur’s normal displeasure on top of the icy silence. “Yes, exactly.”
Merlin sketched a quick bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
*
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” said Morgana.
Merlin, kneeling under Gaius’s table to scrub the floor properly because being in Arthur’s chambers with nothing but silence was becoming too much to bear after nearly two weeks, tried to straighten up in surprise and only hit his head on the underside of the table. “Ow,” he muttered, and crawled out from under the table before sitting up again. “My lady?”
“I can’t forgive you for lying to me like you did, not yet, but this is more important than that.” She shut the door. “Is Gaius here?” He shook his head. “Good. You know how to control your magic, don’t you? Better than I do?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Well enough to do what’s needed most of the time. What’s the matter?”
“I had a dream last night.”
Merlin allowed himself a second to close his eyes and brace himself. He’d been wondering when an attack would come. The queen’s resurrection had given them a reprieve while everyone waited to see what Uther would do, but nothing was changing, so it was only a matter of time before they started in again. “Who’s in danger this time?”
It took Morgana a while to answer, long enough that he dared to look up at her. She wasn’t outright glaring, but she certainly wasn’t happy. “Someday, not today, you’ll tell me why that sounds like something you say often. Today, we’re solving this. Arthur’s in danger.”
Of course it was Arthur, who would still barely look at Merlin, instead of Uther, who at least would be blissfully ignorant of his near miss or anyone else who might have felt at least a bit of gratitude. “What’s going to happen?”
“I believe he’s on patrol when it happens, since he’s in the woods. Some sort of creature attacks. Something like a small dragon. It kills the others, and attacks Arthur. I woke up before I could tell if it succeeds in killing him.”
Merlin levered himself to his feet. “He leaves for a patrol tomorrow morning.” Morgana nodded. “I’ll try and figure out what the creature is, and how to stop it.” She nodded again, and turned around to go. “Do you want to help?” he blurted before she could.
Morgana turned back and almost, almost smiled. “Yes.”
*
The next day, after nearly a full night of research and then giving in and actually begging Arthur to go on patrol with him (not that it made any difference besides making Arthur look annoyed instead of expressionless), Merlin found himself sneaking through the woods after Arthur and his knights.
They’d decided, with Gaius’s help after he returned from his rounds, that what Morgana had seen was a wyvern, something like a dragon but not quite, and that it would probably take something like what Merlin had done with the griffin to get rid of it. He almost went to the dragon for advice, but he knew there would be almost no way to get away without promising more concretely to let it free, and he wasn’t sure if he could trust it. Not until Uther changed his mind about magic. He would just work on instinct, if something went wrong.
And something inevitably did, of course.
Merlin lost the patrol’s trail when they crossed a stream at a place he couldn’t on his own and he had to go a ways out of his way. It was then, of course, that the creature decided to attack, and he found Arthur and his men again by the sound of the animal’s shrieks and the knights’ shouts. Merlin ran, but most of Arthur’s companions were already down by the time he got there, and Arthur had his sword out, battling off the wyvern, which kept itself between Arthur and-a nest. Morgana hadn’t seen that. No wonder the wyvern was attacking.
If it could reason, like the dragon, Merlin might have just tried to stop it, but he didn’t have the luxury. He whispered the spell that made Arthur’s sword glow blue, but the second Arthur noticed his sword in the middle of the battle he looked wildly around instead of striking, and the wyvern nearly opened his scalp up.
And, like always, there was the thought: Not Arthur. Please, not Arthur. There was at least one knight left on his feet besides Arthur-Leon, he thought, though he wasn’t paying attention-but he didn’t care. Arthur knew, which was what mattered, and Merlin could offer protection. He ran out of his cover and directly towards the wyvern’s nest, ignoring Arthur’s shout. He could defend himself better, since it seemed Arthur wasn’t going to wield a spelled sword.
The wyvern saw him and changed course in midair. It swooped low, and he ducked it, preparing some of the spells he and Morgana and Gaius had researched. Arthur was still yelling, calling him an idiot, and someone else was too, or maybe a few more. “Your sword,” he shouted, but the wyvern chose that moment to let out a screech and he didn’t know if Arthur heard.
A second later, he twisted out of the way of the wyvern’s attack, though its claws raked into his arm, throwing him off-balance, before it wheeled to go for Arthur again, because Arthur was charging at them. Hopefully more at the wyvern than Merlin, but his sword was still glowing and he didn’t look happy about it, so there was a small chance he didn’t care much who he hit. Merlin stumbled a few steps and raised his hand to send a blast of fire to distract it, but Arthur hit him running and tumbled them both to the ground. “Don’t you dare, there are people watching, I can’t protect you,” said Arthur, aiming a swipe as he tried to roll to his feet again.
Merlin grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back down away from another scratch of claws. “Use your sword, then.”
Thankfully, Arthur didn’t argue, though when Merlin tried to get up with him he was shoved unceremoniously back down. The other knights weren’t getting up-unconscious or dead or injured, and the few on their feet weren’t a concern for the wyvern, with Arthur and Merlin just feet from its nest. Arthur swung his sword again as soon as he was on his feet, and the wyvern let out a shriek of pain but came back seconds later and knocked Arthur’s sword out of his hands. It fell to the ground, the magic leaking out of it as soon as it left Arthur’s hands.
Merlin tried to do the spell again, but Arthur had his knife out and was far too close to the wyvern for his peace of mind, so he got to his feet again, wincing at the pain in his shoulder, and blasted it back with a jet of fire. He didn’t even get the luxury of a moment’s silence or shock from Arthur, or whatever other knights were still conscious, because the flame only angered the creature more and it was back before he could check their reactions.
From there, it was just as much a fight with Arthur as it was with the wyvern, because Arthur picked up his sword and attempted to get Merlin out of the way whenever he could, while Merlin tried to spell the sword again so they could actually kill it and failed. Finally, he grabbed Arthur’s hand when he was shoved out of the way again and wrapped his hand over Arthur’s on the hilt, getting the spell out at the expense of the wyvern clouting him around the head. He saw the gold in his eyes reflected in Arthur’s before he was shoved aside, all the way to the ground, bleeding and hurting and looking up at Arthur as he waited for the wyvern to swoop back and then stabbed it with his sword glowing blue.
The wyvern crashed ungracefully to the ground, but Merlin wasn’t paying attention and neither, it seemed, was Arthur. Arthur was dirty and breathing hard, but he was looking at Merlin again, eyes wide and almost confused, and Merlin managed something that he hoped was a hazy smile before he passed out.
*
“Nobody is to say a word to my father,” said Arthur, staring down at the ground and Merlin, bloody and unconscious.
It shouldn’t have been the first thing he said. He should have asked how many knights had been lost, how many were just injured, but when he turned around Leon was checking on that, only looking up long enough to nod sharply at Arthur’s words. Some of the other knights were groaning and levering themselves to their feet, and others were unconscious, but if they’d lost any, it was only one or two. A minute or two longer without Merlin, though, and they might not have been so lucky.
Merlin, who had thrown himself into danger for Arthur’s sake and wielded fire and light even though the knights were watching, and who’d been knocked unconscious for his troubles.
For the first time, Arthur didn’t think of how many times Merlin had saved his life, building up a life debt Arthur couldn’t hope to repay, one that forced him to lie to his father. Instead, he wondered how many times Merlin’s life had been in danger without Arthur’s knowledge. How close he’d come to losing him like his father lost his mother, unprepared and with no idea how to go on. His stomach clenched at the thought of it.
He lifted Merlin off the ground and looked back at Leon. “Let’s get as many as we can back on their horses and go back to Camelot. Check the nest and see if there’s anything else in it.”
*
“My father turned a blind eye to an accusation of magic today,” Arthur said the day Merlin went back to work.
Merlin nearly dropped the pillow he was meant to be fluffing. Arthur wasn’t looking up from his papers, but he didn’t seem nearly as casual as he was pretending to be. “Why?”
“Because the one accused was a child, and my mother said please.” Merlin snorted, and Arthur sighed in response. “I can’t promise that you’ll have to stop hiding soon, Merlin, but he’s changing his mind, since she came back. Just as that sorceress intended.”
When Arthur finally looked at him, Merlin looked away. “Does that mean …” His voice deserted him. He fluffed the pillow a few more times for good measure, even though Arthur made an impatient noise. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“I’m not ungrateful. I owe you a great deal, and I suppose understanding of your need to lie would be the least of it.” He couldn’t read Arthur’s tone, but at least it wasn’t as cold as it had been recently.
Merlin tried to smile and put down the pillow in favor of walking over to Arthur’s table. “Last time I got rewarded for saving your life I got enslaved to you, you know. I’m not sure I want rewards for the rest. I would probably end up fetching water for the cobbler or something.”
Arthur just continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I think the position of Court Sorcerer will go some way towards paying the debt, when the time comes.” He stood up before Merlin could school his expression and catch his breath. “Perhaps my father will relent enough to allow it before his death. Perhaps it won’t be until he dies, but as far as I’m concerned you’re the best hope we have, where magic is concerned.”
When Arthur didn’t make a joke immediately after, Merlin tried to find his voice in spite of how close Arthur was standing and how serious he looked. He wanted to blurt out that Gaius did most of the research, really, and how the dragon advised him more often than Merlin wanted to admit, or to say that Morgana would give him a run for his money for Court Sorcerer, but it wasn’t the time for those conversations, at least not yet. Morgana’s secret was her own to tell, anyway. “I’ll keep helping you anyway.”
Arthur nearly smiled. “You always do.”
“Well.” Merlin shrugged. “Apparently we have a destiny.” That made Arthur’s expression shut down, and Merlin cursed himself. He never wanted that as a reason in the first place, for all it was still the argument the dragon and Gaius used most. “I’d keep saving you anyway, though, just because it’s unreasonable how many people try to kill you in a given year. You need someone around to even the odds.”
That time, Arthur did smile. “I’m amazed I didn’t figure it out before, really. I’ve felt as if someone’s been watching out for me, since you came to Camelot, because of all my close calls, but I never imagined it was you.”
“That’s because you think I’m useless.”
“You are a useless manservant.” Arthur looked pointedly at the bed, which was still rumpled despite Merlin’s best attempts at making it, though in Merlin’s defense his shoulder still hurt from the wyvern’s attack and he’d been distracted by Arthur. “But you’re a better sorcerer. Before you swooned like a girl the other day-we wouldn’t have survived without you.”
“I didn’t swoon,” Merlin objected automatically, a bit breathless with how close Arthur was standing and how he never looked away from Merlin’s eyes. “The damn wyvern hit me on the head.”
Arthur raised his head and touched it gently to where the knot on Merlin’s skull was. Merlin winced, and the hand dropped to settle on his good shoulder. “Like a girl,” he repeated, but he sounded fond and a little hoarse, and Merlin couldn’t bring himself to object again. “Merlin-”
“Yes.” It was the only possible answer to anything Arthur was going to say while he looked like that, even if he had no idea what was going on. And what he thought was going on surely couldn’t actually be going on, because Merlin hadn’t seen that look on Arthur’s face for a while, and he’d thought he imagined it if it was ever directed at him.
For a moment, Merlin was sure that Arthur was going to back down from whatever happened next, make some joke about Merlin needing to finish making his bed or polish his swords or take his shirts to the laundry. Instead, he just kept smiling. “Yes what, Merlin?”
“Yes, I’ll be your Court Sorcerer, or …” He trailed off and grabbed Arthur’s hand instead, to lower his head and press a kiss where Arthur would wear a signet ring someday. “Just, yes.”
That made Arthur catch in a startled breath, and when Merlin dared to look up, releasing Arthur’s hand as he did, he was staring at Merlin’s mouth. He started to speak, probably to ask Merlin if he was sure, if he knew what he was offering, but Merlin didn’t want to hear it. It had been coming, probably for longer than either of them had acknowledged, so he just looped his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him.
Arthur’s lips were chapped, but his mouth was soft and warm and he responded instantly, like Merlin’s kiss was something he’d been waiting for. His hands fluttered for a moment, indecisive in a way Arthur never was, before settling at Merlin’s waist, and Merlin kissed him openmouthed in response.
When they pulled apart, Merlin rested his forehead on Arthur’s shoulder, hiding the silly grin Arthur would surely mock him for. “Merlin,” said Arthur, and he could hear him smiling.
His voice only shook a bit when he answered. “So what you’re saying is that I’m forgiven?”
Arthur tilted his head up again to meet his eyes. “What I’m saying is ‘thank you.’”
*
The harvest was just beginning when Uther pardoned a sorcerer before the full court for the first time.
Merlin was hovering behind Arthur’s seat-lower on the dais, now that Ygraine had Arthur’s old one for the foreseeable future-when the guards shoved in a boy about his age, maybe a bit younger, sullen and with his face bruised. “Who is this?” the queen asked, putting her hand on top of Uther’s.
“He’s a confessed sorcerer, your Majesty,” said one of the guards.
Only someone looking hard would see the way Arthur, Morgana, and Ygraine all flinched at once, but Merlin was looking. He clenched his fists so he wouldn’t reach out to Arthur and glanced at Gwen, who was patting Morgana’s shoulder under cover of giving her a drink of water. She didn’t bother to look at the accused sorcerer, because everyone in the room knew he was doomed, if he’d confessed, and he was a full-grown man, not one of the children for whose lives the queen had pled. She just looked at Morgana, brows knit with worry, while Morgana went white.
“Our crops were dying!” shouted the sorcerer. “I did what I had to do.”
Everyone waited for Uther to send him to the dungeons to wait for his execution. It never mattered what they said, after all. “You should have sent to Camelot for help,” Uther said instead. “Why use sorcery?”
“There wasn’t enough time.”
“And you used it only to save the crops in your village?”
That was when the whispers started, and Merlin looked from the king, who looked as angry and impassive as ever, to the sorcerer, whose anger was turning into shock, to Arthur, who was just staring at his father like he’d never seen him before in his life. “I did what I had to do,” the sorcerer said again, and he was still belligerent, but it was fading out of him by the second.
Uther turned his gaze to the guards. “Is there anyone else from the village present? Has anyone been hurt or poisoned by the crops this man touched?”
One of the guards shook his head; he must have been on the patrol. “We don’t know, it had only been a day since the crops started flourishing again when we left.”
“My parents eat that grain, I wouldn’t-”
“Be silent, you are on trial,” said Uther, and by some miracle the sorcerer shut his mouth. “You meant no harm?”
All the whispers went dead silent, and Merlin forgot himself and clasped his arm on the back of Arthur’s chair so he wouldn’t fall down. “Of course I didn’t,” said the sorcerer, and his voice was so full of scorn that Merlin was sure Uther would have him executed for insolence instead of sorcery.
“Have him taken to the dungeon. In a week, check the crops in his village. If no one is ill and they still flourish, allow him to go free.”
People were talking, Uther was saying something about mercy, but Merlin couldn’t pay attention, couldn’t think. The sorcerer’s defiance was leaking out of him, replaced by shock. The queen had a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile or tears, and when Uther reached out to pat her hand as he often did, she didn’t just give him a nod as always, she grabbed his hand and kissed it in front of the whole court. Merlin just held on to Arthur’s chair, sure the wild grin he had inside of him was showing on his face just as Morgana’s fierce happiness was all on the surface.
Uther heard two other cases but Merlin kept clutching, white-knuckled, until Arthur rose during a break and jerked his head towards the door when Merlin nearly forgot to follow him. “Training,” said Arthur, nodding to his father and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek as he went by. “Come along, Merlin.”
They made it as far as an alcove before Arthur let them stop and pulled Merlin into the darkness. Merlin reached out and Arthur caught him by the collar to pull him close and let him calm his mind. “Did you know he was going to do that?” Merlin asked at last.
“No, I’d no idea. I knew my mother was trying to change his mind, but I didn’t think he would ever bend.” Arthur’s lips were at his temple, his breath ruffling Merlin’s hair. “Do you know what this means?”
“It won’t-it can’t be any time soon. But maybe even before you’re king …” And Uther would pass down a kingdom to his son that wasn’t roiling with thousands of hidden sorcerers and druids ready to kill the heir, if it happened soon enough. The word would spread, and if Uther let the sorcerer go, he would have to release others as well, when they came.
“I can’t even imagine what we’ll do.”
Merlin stepped back and whispered a spell that made a flame spark up in his palm. When Arthur held out a hand as if to touch it, Merlin clasped their hands together, the fire between them, and made sure it wouldn’t burn. “I can.”
Arthur smiled. “Show me more.”
*
In the afternoons afternoons, Ygraine sometimes thought her room was the busiest in the castle. When he wasn’t busy, Uther would come, and it was always quieter when he was there, but she didn’t mind, because during those times she saw the man she’d married more and more often.
When Uther wasn’t there, it was most often the children, though in truth they were more friends, given the closeness of their age. Arthur would sit at her table with business or just to listen to her stories, his smile freer than it had been when she first woke. She couldn’t take all the credit for that, though, for with Arthur came Merlin. He’d come shyly at first, and stood in a corner unable to meet her eyes, but more often now, he sat next to Arthur and they bumped shoulders and smiled when they thought no one was looking. Morgana came as well, nearly always wearing the bracelet that Uther had confiscated from the person of the sorceress who brought Ygraine back to life, which had the mark of the house of Gorlois on it. She looked less tired, as time went on, and she smiled more, though it took a long time before she would smile at Merlin. Gwen sat near her lady, her worry gentled, and sewed or sat, rarely speaking.
When Ygraine could, she did the work of looking through papers and ledger books, catching up on years and history, but mostly she sat and listened to them chatter, and told stories of the Camelot she remembered in return.