Performing One's Purpose--Part 3
Part 3.
Morning came creeping slowly over the horizon and spilled through Merlin’s slightly opened window. He lay stretched out on his bed, already dressed for the day and wide awake. Sighing, he sat up, legs draped over the edge of the bed. Merlin bent down, tugging his boots closer and stuffing his stockinged feet into the worn leather boots, wiggling his toes to set them properly, then stood, stretching the kinks from his back.
Gaius’s cot was empty, the old man nowhere to be found in the room. His satchel and cloak were already gone, giving evidence to his early departure. Merlin had to admit, Gaius could be stealthy when he wanted to. Merlin hadn’t even heard the old man leave this morning, and he’d been awake all night.
Gulping a cup of water, he left, grabbing the pack Gaius had left by the door, ignoring the plate of bread and fruit that had been left out by Gaius. He wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been since he had forced down a bowl of thin stew at lunch the other day under Gaius’s assessing stare.
The halls were as empty this morning as they had been last night on his way back, the castle still waking up and only a few sleep-eyed servants venturing from their rooms. Taking the stairs two at a time on the way down, he walked briskly towards the main doors of the castle and the courtyard further on, and the royal stables just beyond.
Cursing as his foot slipped and made him stumble on the last landing, he windmilled his arms, caught himself on the corner of the wall, straightened himself and kept going. The courtyard was a little busier, the night guards leaving as the morning shift arrived to relieve them, flowing from their posts around the castle to the barracks on the west side of the castle.
There, waiting for him to arrive, were Percival and Lancelot, with their horses saddled and loaded. Seeing who else was with them, he hurried his steps as Arthur gave him an impatient look. Handing the package off to Percival to load onto his horse, he smiled at Lancelot, his friend looking tired still.
He jumped as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, and looked behind to see Gwaine smirking at his start, eyebrow arched. He didn’t get a chance to give a retort as Gwen came jogging up, a bundle of cloth in her arms, rings under her eyes from her long night sewing the clothing.
“Here, it’s not much, but it should suffice and will pass closer inspection. You two won’t look like normal peasants, but you’re close enough to look like city laborers. If asked, you can say you’re headed for more work in Cenred’s kingdom,” she supplied, smiling tiredly as she handed them their disguises.
“We’ll keep them packed until we get to the border and change then.” Lancelot assured her, bowing over her hand in thanks and making her blush.
“However did you get their measurements so quickly?” Merlin asked, eyeing Percival’s tall, bulky stature.
“Oh, um…I just asked for something they already had and used those.” She flushed again. Smiling at them, she continued. “Good luck and come back soon.” The knights bowed to her and she left, hurrying into the castle.
“Sire,” they both said, bowing to Arthur in turn.
Arthur clasped them each by their arm, nodding in turn. “Good luck. I hope you bring back good news.” Nodding one last time to the rest gathered, the two mounted and wheeled their mounts around, setting off at a slow trot that carried them from the courtyard and into the city.
“Come, Merlin. Training is soon and I need you on the field since Gaius is gone for today.” Arthur said, starting to walk off.
Merlin glanced at Gwaine, feeling his cheeks heat again as memories from the night before flashed through his mind. “Go on, the princess doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” he shooed with an easy smile and a wink, sauntering off.
“Merlin!” Arthur yelled and he took off, racing to catch up with his prince.
~*~
With Gaius away, tending to those in the city as he did once a week, Merlin was alone on the training field, satchel open at his feet, cool tent just behind him as he waited for anyone with an injury to be sent his way.
So far no one had been hurt apart from their pride when Arthur dumped them on their arses. He was in top form, working them hard, trying to work off the worry he must be feeling from the rumors about Morgana.
Someone gave a yell and Merlin jerked his head up, looking for the source. Gwaine was on the ground, holding his arm as Leon leaned over him, taking a look. They seemed to be discussing something and then Leon was helping him up, pointing him towards Merlin.
Swallowing nervously, he walked into the tent, waiting for Gwaine to arrive. He didn’t have long to wait as the tent flap was brushed aside and Gwaine stood there, glaring at the bleeding cut on his arm.
It was long, but not deep; the blade had just grazed him as his chainmail sleeve had ridden up on a down swing. It had already stopped bleeding, a line of red following the curves of muscle on his arm down towards his fingers.
Merlin motioned towards the camp stool that was set in the middle of the tent, in the bar of light that cut through the center of the tent, allowing him to see. Picking up the water pitcher, he came forward, rag in hand and gently dabbed at the drying blood.
“You know, you’re supposed to dodge the sword, not let it cut you,” he commented softly, keeping his eyes focused on the knight’s arm to give himself an excuse for not looking him in the face. Gwaine laughed, his whole body jerking with it, and Merlin’s fingers slipped, digging a little into the wound, pulling a wince and a hiss from the man.
“Sorry.” He soothed the cloth over it, dipping it into the pitcher and wringing it out again, continuing to clean it. When he was finished, he picked up the roll of cloth he used for bandaging and quickly cut a strip with his belt knife, sheathing the blade afterwards. He wound it with enough pressure to keep the wound from reopening and bleeding again.
Turning away, he set about tidying up the table behind him, though it was already in order. “Um…about last night…”
He jumped when Gwaine’s hand curled around his shoulder and turned him, sword calloused fingers gripping his jaw, angling his head, and then Gwaine was kissing him. He felt the rag in his hands drop to the ground, his hands gripping at the chainmail covering Gwaine’s chest, uncaring that the metal links bit into his flesh as he held on to the knight.
He felt Gwaine’s lips twitch into a smirk, as his tongue swiped at the seam of his lips. Sighing, Merlin let him in, shuddering at the feeling of him, at the taste, like ripe fruit and mead and something undeniably Gwaine, and it made his mouth water and his heart thunder in his chest.
When Gwaine pulled back, he was left blinking dazedly up at him. Licking his lips, he could still taste him, the feel of him lingering. “What about last night?” he asked, voice a low rumble.
“Um…I’d forgotten what I wanted to ask,” Merlin admitted sheepishly, cheeks heating in embarrassment.
Merlin jerked back as Arthur yelled out from the training field. “Gwaine, it was just a scratch, stop slacking and get back out here!” Realizing how little there was hiding them from the others, just a thin piece of canvas stretched over some ropes; he tried to disentangle himself from Gwaine. The knight wasn’t making it easy, pulling him closer each time and kissing him again.
“Gwaine!” Arthur yelled again.
He gave a great heaving sigh. “The princess is calling me.” He looked at Merlin. “Will you meet me later?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“I…I don’t know…”
“Just for dinner. We haven’t had much time to just sit together and talk, and I want to know more about…” Not wanting to say it out loud, he wiggled his fingers in what he apparently thought was a magical gesture.
Merlin’s heart was beating faster than usual and he decided to take a chance. “All right. I’ll see you in your rooms.” Grinning like a little boy given his first sword, he leaned down one more time to steal a last kiss and walked out, yelling out for Arthur to “Be patient with the wounded!”
Merlin stared after him, still leaning on the edge of the table Gwaine had backed him up against. He daren’t move for fear his wobbly knees would give out on him. Taking a few minutes, he started to pull himself together, calming his heart and breath. Running a quick hand through his hair and splashing some water from the bucket on his face, he felt himself settle back into his old self.
Hoping he didn’t look like Gwaine and he had been up to something in the tent, he stepped out, going to lean against the fence and continue watching them train. If anyone noticed something off about him, none said anything.
~*~
Merlin blinked in surprise to find himself standing before Gwaine’s door. The last thing he remembered was talking with Gaius about his work in the city as they prepared a concoction together. That had been just around sunset, the physician having just returned.
Before he could start to worry, the door opened and Gwaine smiled out at him. He was dressed in his loose red shirt, the laces undone, and Merlin blushed as it gaped open, revealing a whole lot of the knight’s chest, the silver necklace he always wore shining in the torch light from the corridor. His brown breeches were the same ones he had worn earlier, covered in dust and grass stains. He’d removed his boots and was walking around in his stockings.
“There you are. I was wondering if you would come,” Gwaine joked, opening the door up wider to let Merlin pass through. Giving a little smile, he pushed the worry away and walked in, feeling Gwaine’s eyes follow him the whole way through the room.
His table was set for two, though there was no food yet. Just as he was about to ask what they were supposed to eat, there was a knock at the door. He walked over quickly and opened it. “Ah, thank you.” Someone spoke quietly outside. “No, that will be all.” He shut the door with a snap, one hand holding the covered tray with ease.
“Dinner is served,” he said aloud with a flourish, removing the cover in a swift tug, revealing two steaming plates on the tray. His grin was contagious and Merlin could do nothing but smile back, walking over to the table to take a seat as Gwaine set the plates down. Once seated, Gwaine moved to light the candles on the table, reaching for a taper. Smirking, Merlin let the magic in him flow, his eyes flashing gold. The candles flicked into life in an instant, startling the knight.
There was silence for a moment and Merlin felt his heart freeze, thinking he had overstepped his bounds and moved too quickly. Then Gwaine was laughing, his head thrown back in delight, and Merlin felt his shoulders relax.
Finally, Gwaine stopped, gasping for breath and wiping at running eyes. “Did…did you know that your eyes…glow?” he finally asked.
“Yeah. My mother told me once, when I was younger. I even did magic in front of a mirror once to see for myself.” He was grinning by now, relief sharp and sweet running through his veins.
Gwaine nodded and started to dig into his food. “So tell me, have you always been able to do magic?” The rest of the meal went by in a similar fashion, with Gwaine chucking question after question at the warlock and Merlin answering as best he could. Eventually, he ran out of topics to ask him and Merlin turned an evil grin on the knight and started to ask his own questions.
“What does your necklace mean?” Merlin finally asked, eyeing the silver pendent hanging on its fine silver chain, the plain golden ring hanging next to it, always together.
Something seemed to shift in the knight’s face, growing softer as his mind went to past things. “It was my mother’s, given to her by my father when he courted her. The ring was hers as well, her wedding ring.” Finally, he looked at the warlock. “Do you have anything of the like?”
Merlin shook his head. “My mother never married and I was born out of wedlock. I…I do have something of my father’s…He gave it to me…the day before he died.” He could feel his throat closing up, the old emotions rising from their half-buried state. Swallowing, he forced them away as best he could. “He carved it for me: a dragon.” He grinned, remembering the joy he had felt when he’d woken to find it on the log next to him, neck arched proudly and wings stretched as if at any moment, it would take off into flight.
“You miss him?” Gwaine asked, voice grave as he looked at the warlock.
He nodded, and spoke, voice scratchy. “I knew him for only a few days…” He gave a bitter laugh, “I thought him dead or long gone, and until Gaius finally told me of him the day we went to look for the Dragonlord…”
“The Dragonlord was your father.” Merlin nodded and clutched at the arms of his chair tightly, feeling heat prickle and pool behind his clenched eyes before spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t see him, but he heard as Gwaine pushed his chair back, heavy steps rounding the table. Sword-calloused hands gripped his shoulders and turned him and he couldn’t stop the hitch in his breath as strong arms curved around his back, pulling him close.
He remained as silent as he could, his breath hitching every once in a while as tears soaked the knight’s tunic. Large, warm hands ran up and down his back, soothing him like nothing else had before. Finally, he pulled back with a sniff, wiping at his wet eyes and cheeks. “You’ve been holding that in for a while, haven’t you?” Gwaine asked softly, looking up at him from his kneeling position. Merlin nodded mutely, still trying to get his breathing under control.
“Sorry,” he finally muttered, running soft fingers over the wet spot on Gwaine’s shirt.
“There is no need to be sorry. I told you, I am always here if you need someone to talk to.” He brushed his thumbs under Merlin’s eyes, collecting stray tears that clung stubbornly to his eyelashes. Leaning up, he brushed a soft kiss on each eye and Merlin’s breath hitched for a different reason entirely.
Gwaine trailed kisses down his nose and over his cheek. One brushed over the hair at his temple, one the spot below his earlobe, down his jawline, up his chin and finally, stopped on his lips. It was just a gentle press of lips, meant to comfort, but Merlin wanted more. To feel what he’d felt in the tent earlier today.
He opened his lips slightly and Gwaine complied, pressing in, licking into his mouth as if he had done this for months and knew everything Merlin wanted. Merlin’s hands moved of their own accord, reaching for cloth, clutching at it desperately, his thumbs brushing skin, feeling the heat radiating off of the knight.
They pulled apart, the need for air overpowering them for a moment. Merlin could only stare and pant as he took in the pure want on Gwaine’s face. Shivering, he let his hands unclench from the cloth and for a brief moment, something shifted across the knight’s face, too fast for Merlin to tell what it was. But he didn’t care, just let his arms wrap around this man’s neck and tug him closer, bending down for more of his addictive kisses.
Gwaine surged up and Merlin found himself standing, strong arms around his waist like steel bands, supporting him and holding him captive at the same time. They pulled apart again, breathing ragged. “Merlin?” he asked, and Merlin knew exactly what he was asking. ‘Are you sure you want this? Do you really want me?’
“Yes,” he answered Gwaine, pressing as close as they could with layers of clothing between them. Things blurred slightly after that, with flashes of Gwaine’s mouth on him again as he herded them towards his bed, clothing falling off, leaving a clear trail of their route to it.
Gwaine was all around him, surrounding him. His scent as he breathed in deeply, nose pressed into the side of his neck. His taste as his pink tongue darted out to lick sweat off of his muscled shoulder. His sounds as he groaned deeply when he wrapped his long pale fingers around Gwaine’s hard flesh, stroking slowly, torturously, the noise vibrating into Merlin. The feel of skin on skin and the soft strands of his hair, the cool bite of his necklace that quickly warmed between them as they moved against each other.
And best of all, the sight of him, head thrown back, the tendons in his neck taut as he moved over him, heat spilling between their already sweaty bodies as they continued to rut against each other. Sight alone was enough to send him over as well, their seed mixing between them as they lay there panting, breathing each other’s air.
It was sometime later that they finally broke the silence that had fallen between them. It was comfortable, Merlin lying between Gwaine’s thighs, back to chest, using him as one big pillow. With his eyes closed, he listened to him breathe; to the sound of his heartbeat, the sound of his life.
The knight was drawing mindless symbols on his stomach, his other hand propped behind his head as he rested against the headboard. “Have you ever tried…you know, looking for Morgana?” he asked, softly.
Merlin tilted his head back a little, looking up at the knight. “Once, soon after she disappeared. I’d never been really good at it before, but even after a couple of tries, I couldn’t find her.” His brow creased. “She’s probably using magic to hide.” They fell silent again.
“Do you think she might be up to something?” Merlin remained silent and Gwaine shifted, leaning up to get a better look at him. “What is it?” he asked.
“…No one but Kilgharrah and I know about it. About Morgana’s role in…in…”
“In what?” He pushed
“Arthur’s death,” he finally whispered, cringing away from the words.
“Explain, please.” He asked, sitting up fully now, turning Merlin so that he faced him.
“There…is a prophecy about Arthur and…me. How we will bring about a golden age for Camelot, where magic can be practiced without fear…but there is another one…about…Arthur’s death and of Morgana’s role in it. She will ally herself with the one destined to kill Arthur in an act of revenge and hate.” He shook his head.
“Merlin?”
“I didn’t believe Kilgharrah at first, but too many things have happened recently for his words to have been lies.”
“You should tell him. He deserves to know.” He tried to reason with the warlock.
“He will want to know how I came by this information and that will lead to the dragon and my magic and that will only bring death,” Merlin reasoned back, voice bitter.
“You can’t think Arthur would let you be executed?” Gwaine asked, disbelieving.
“You can’t know that he won’t do it either.” He felt his eyes tearing again, but brushed them away with a frustrated breath. “I’ve tried…so many times to find the right time to tell him and every time, something happens, someone gets in the way and ruins the moment, makes it so that Arthur distrusts magic even more. I don’t think a time will ever come until he is king, and by then, it might be too late to change his mind.” He pulled at his hair in frustration.
Smiling patiently, Gwaine gently extracted Merlin’s fingers from his hair, running soothing fingers through his black locks, brushing them back from his forehead and into their original state. “Do you trust him?”
“With my life,” he answered solemnly.
“Then you have your answer right there. He deserves to know. It will only harden his heart more if he were to find out only after he had become king. Will you tell him?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” Gwaine started to tug him back down, pulling at the blankets that lay bunched at the end of the bed.
“I should be going. Gaius will worry…” he started to say.
“I’m sure Gaius would prefer it to being be roused from his sleep by you tripping over everything in the room. It’s late; he will have assumed you are elsewhere by now.” He looked at the time candle in the room and saw he was right. Only a few candle marks were left to be burnt out, to signal dawn.
“I guess you are right.” He still dug in his elbow, making the knight wince as he smirked at the warlock. “But only this once.”
They lay down, and he let Gwaine shift him around until they were both comfortable, with his head pillowed on his chest and Gwaine’s arms curled underneath him, warm palm spread over his lower back, holding him close as they settled for sleep. As a last thought, he lifted his head and his eyes flashed gold. He let out a breath and a small breeze flowed through the room, putting out candles and making the fire blaze before it dissipated. He could feel Gwaine’s chuckle where his cheek pressed against his chest and smiled in return, feeling sleep drag the knight under.
~*~
The days passed slowly and eventually a week had gone by since the two knights had left for Cenred’s kingdom. Only one message was sent, from a small border fort between the two kingdoms. The messenger boy was covered in dust but unharmed as he pulled his horse up and slid down its flank.
It was simple, saying they had made it to the border and it would be harder for word to be sent thereafter. Arthur questioned the boy and the child answered as best as he could, chest swelling in pride at being in his Prince’s presence. The two had left anything that could identify them as Knights of Camelot, including their armor and anything that might hold Camelot’s colors.
Remembering his mistake from last time he had gone undercover, Arthur had supplied the two with a mix of coin, most of it old Camelot coins, interspersed with mints from other kingdoms around Camelot, supporting their story of laborers following the work from kingdom to kingdom.
They’d even switched their mounts, not wanting their fine mounts to stand out. Instead they had been last seen riding out on a couple of older horses, contributed from the fort’s own stables. A couple of old warhorses past their prime were less likely to attract attention.
By the time the boy had left, led by a servant down to the kitchens for a quick meal before he left, with more instructions from Arthur to be spread to the other forts, the rest of them had been summoned.
He kept the meeting short and even Gaius and Gwen were there. He had sent word to the forts to keep their eyes open for any activity that looked odd. Instruction had also been given that when the two knights appeared on their doorstep, they were to be aided as they would be carrying vital information that could mean a fast response to the threat of war if the rumors proved true and Morgana was indeed up to something.
Arthur turned to Gaius and Merlin, asking them if they could get to work on mixing up potions and ointments for the possible wounded. Gwen already had a small group of local girls in her home, working on making bandages, just in case. Arthur paid them from his own purse. Uther knew nothing or they thought he knew nothing. If he did know what was going on, he was not acting to help or hinder it.
As for Merlin, he continued to lose time. It was the only thing he could think to call it. He didn’t know what was causing him to fade out and the worry was starting to eat at him. It wasn’t large stretches of time. A few minutes here, half a candlemark there, usually when he was walking from one side of the castle to the other. It was never while he was working or when he was with Gwaine, and for that he could only be grateful. He didn’t know what he would do if Gwaine knew of it.
Gaius had stopped lifting his eyebrow after the second night he spent in Gwaine’s rooms. He didn’t ask anything, but he felt that the older man knew and was happy that he had someone to help him when things weighed too much on his shoulders.
He was constantly on alert, magic always ready, and yet everything was quiet. No new attacks, physical or magical; no threats or traps laid for them. It was peaceful for once, and it left him tense and testy at the end of the day, his shoulders in knots and a headache clawing at his skull.
By the time the end of the second week started to roll near, he was ready to scream. Instead, he let out a moan as Gwaine knelt over him, strong hands kneading his shoulders and back, forcing tense muscles to melt and leaving him relaxed and wrung out. “If you keep this up, Merlin, you’re going to burn out before anything happens,” he said softly, working at a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades.
There was a loud pop as his spine cracked and he could do nothing but groan again, feeling the knot come undone and the warmth that came with it. Sighing, he nodded. “I know; it’s just that I feel like something is about to happen. It’s never been this peaceful since I first met Arthur except in the moment before the storm. Something is coming and I don’t know what.”
“Well, unless you become a Seer, you’ll just have to wait like the rest of us mortals.” Gwaine said gravely.
Merlin jerked up and twisted around, looking at the knight. “Gwaine, I don’t…” he trailed off at the large smirk plastered on Gwaine’s face. Glaring at being tricked like that, he pulled his leg out from under him and pushed his foot against his chest, trying to push the knight off the bed. It didn’t work so well since Gwaine just grabbed his foot and held on.
Grinning evilly, he attacked his foot, rubbing and tickling, making Merlin’s leg muscles jump and he tugged uselessly at his the vice-like hand around his ankle, laughing loudly, twisting and trying to get away. “Stop, stop, I give up!” he cried out and Gwaine stopped.
He lay there panting, Gwaine still holding his leg in the air. He jumped as warm lips pressed against the sole of his foot and started to trail down. He shivered as Gwaine’s beard brushed against his calf, leaving his skin tingling. Gwaine crept lower, peppering his kisses with a brush of his bearded cheeks against his knee, inner thigh.
When he reached his destination, Merlin could only moan as Gwaine grazed his beard over the underside of his cock, his back and hips arching as pleasure surged through his blood and veins again. “I…I can’t.” He nearly wailed, his body still sensitized from their earlier activities and relaxed from the massage.
“Oh, I think you can,” he answered softly and brushed against him again.
~*~
“How long has it been since they left?” Merlin asked, lounging on the bed next to Gwaine.
“It’s closing in on three weeks now. Why, what’s wrong?” Gwaine asked, setting the book down and looking at him.
“I’m just worried. They should have sent word by now. For all we know, they’ve been discovered and are dead, and we’d never know it,” he mused morbidly.
“Don’t think such things. It would take more than this to take down those two. Most likely, they’ve been unable to find a safe way for a message to be delivered and dare not send one of them to do it. It’s too risky to leave one by himself in enemy territory. No need to worry just yet.” He brushed a hand over Merlin’s back and for then, it was enough.
~*~
Two weeks later brought their message in the form of Lancelot and Percival riding borrowed horses that were streaked in sweat and about ready to collapse. The two knights looked just the same, swaying in their saddles as they pushed their horses hard to reach the courtyard. Gaius was seeing to the king when he was summoned, so Merlin came in his place, toting his bag of supplies.
A shallow gashed had been hastily bandaged on Lancelot’s arm; Percival sprouted a new scar running the curve of his jaw. They were littered with small cuts from branches and brambles that had snagged at their skin as the rode hell bent to reach Camelot with their news.
Merlin was tending them when Arthur arrived. He looked grave as he strode up. “What news?” he demanded, body held taut and poised for any news.
“War, sire. We go to war,” Percival answered, his eyes weary.
~*~
As word of the knight’s news spread, organized chaos descended on Camelot. The cathedral might have weathered wars and sieges before, but it still took time to prepare, to gather their citizens, supplies to last. Arthur, knowing he needed to act quickly, sent out word to the outlying villages, to prepare them and offering Camelot as a safe haven.
Gwaine soon showed up next to Merlin and between them, they got the lagging knights up the steps and into the castle. They sagged down onto handy benches when the door to Gaius’s workroom opened for the four of them.
Walking over to Gaius’s potion shelves, he rummaged amongst them before pulling a pair of small vials out. “Here.” He held it out to Lancelot and the other to Percival. “This will keep you awake for long enough to get through your message and some initial planning. You better be in your rooms by the time it wears off or else you’ll be sleeping where you fall,” he joked, grinning when they made a face at the taste.
Gwaine handed over a couple of goblets of water to wash the potions down. There was a knock at the door and a servant poked his head through. “Prince Arthur sends instructions for you to attend him in his rooms when you have recovered enough.” Gwaine nodded to the boy, smiling in thanks and turned back once the door was shut.
“We should go. He will need to know what we found out,” Lancelot said aloud. Stifling a groan, he pushed himself to his feet. Gwaine could see how tired they were, no matter what it was Merlin had given them, they needed sleep, and soon.
The trek through the castle was silent. Most of the servants had been called to the banquet hall where they were being given instructions on tasks. Even if the battle was not fought here, it was still safe haven for those who lived in Camelot’s farm lands and forests.
Percival and Lancelot were a little ahead of them, talking softly amongst themselves, hands gesturing as they walked. Merlin was a pensive shadow next to him, only the sound of his footsteps and his quiet breathing telling him that the warlock was still there. “Merlin,” he called softly.
When no answer came, Gwaine looked over at him. His face was a blank mask; eyes guarded and had the intensely focused quality of someone thinking deeply. He called Merlin’s name again, trying to gain his attention. When that didn’t rouse him from his thoughts, he reached out, hand settling heavily on his shoulder.
He pulled it back just as quickly when Merlin filched, eyes opening in alarm, his head jerking to look over at Gwaine. For a brief second, something flashed in his eyes and if Gwaine had been pressed, he would have said it looked like Merlin had been afraid of something. It was gone too fast for him to be sure and then Merlin was smiling in apology.
“Sorry, you startled me. Did you want something?” Merlin asked softly, keeping an eye on the two knights ahead as they swayed slightly on their feet.
Eyeing him for a moment, Gwaine shook his head, “Just wondering if you were okay. You’ve been awfully quiet for someone who’s just learned that we’re going to war.” He commented dryly.
“Uh…sorry. Just thinking. I mean, Gaius is going to be staying here, or closer to here. I’m just trying to figure out what I would need to bring when we do go,” he admitted quietly.
“Don’t worry. You’re not alone in this. Others will help.” Gwaine tried to reassure him and was rewarded with a wan smile.
They didn’t have time to talk further as the door ahead opened and Arthur stood there, waiting for them to enter. The others were already gathered around the table, all except Gaius, who was still seeing to Uther. Once they were settled, Arthur nodded for the knights to start talking.
“Two days after we crossed the border we got the first lead. A farmer had seen a woman, pale, with dark hair, running through the woods, her dress in shreds. He had thought she was a witch or a ghost. He didn’t get a good look at her face, but he had said she had been traveling northwest, towards the mountains that separated the border from the capital, though it had been some months before. We set out from there.” Lancelot paused to sip from the goblet of watered wine that was set in front of him and Percival took over.
“We followed the trail for the next three days, and found similar reports. We had to hide often; the woods were crawling with bandits and outlaws looking for travelers. Eventually we got to the capital. It was in ruins. When we asked what had happened, the locals had said that those left over of Cenred’s men that hadn’t become part of his immortal army had rioted, along with the peasants that he had taxed into poverty to pay for his great army. Many of the lords had fled back to their own lands. We did manage to find the man Gaius had sent us to find. He had been living with relatives in one of the villages when the fighting broke out. The letter had proven helpful. He confirmed that Morgause had indeed been seen often with Cenred and she was the one to have Cenred killed in his own throne room.” He stopped for breath.
“There wasn’t much more he could tell us. After the immortal army had disappeared and the rioting had calmed down, nothing seemed to happen. There was no sighting of Morgana in the city, though the rumors were there as well. Eventually, we left after two somewhat fruitful days and embarked further northwest since that was the direction she had been traveling…It was horrible. We had thought those near the border had it rough. In the mountains, they had had the rotting disease spreading through their crops for the last month. Cenred had refused them help when drought ravaged them the year before. So many had died, were dying, and starving before our eyes. We tried to help those we could, giving what little food and coin we could, but it wasn’t enough to make much of a difference. It took us two more days to get to the mountains proper. We rode mostly at night, using the moon and stars to guide us and see by. The bandits were worse there.” Lancelot stopped speaking, eyes dark as he remembered. Percival picked up for them.
“It was in a small mountain village that we got word of Morgana, some four days after we left the capital. Two men had come to the village, asking for volunteers. Preferably men, but women too were welcome. They had paid their families up front to entice others to follow their example. That had been two months before and no one has seen the villagers since nor had any word from them. They said the men had come from even further northwest, from the frozen wilds that few inhabited. When we had asked them to describe these men, they said they had been dressed in fine cloth, with much jewelry. That they had carried- sorry, but this seems to be what they said- human finger bones on a leather thong and looked like sorcerers, though they never saw them use any magic.” Arthur flinched at his words but said nothing, only nodded for them to continue.
“We kept to the mountain trails, heading further west, stopping at each village we stumbled upon. It was the same. Two men who looked like sorcerers came asking for volunteers, and they had never heard from those who left again. This was around the third week. It was a few days into the fourth when we got bogged down by a late snowstorm, though so high up in the mountains, it wasn’t unexpected. We found shelter in a small village high up in the peaks, in a hidden valley. We were there for two days, waiting for the trails to open up when we caught a break. Those two men that had been appearing in each village came to this one, the last one apparently before they returned from whence they had come.” Gwaine could see Arthur tense as he waited for them to continue.
“What the villagers had said was true, that they asked for volunteers, though they were vague about what they needed them for. The human bones though, were false. It was just chicken bones tied in the thong, easily mistaken from a distance. Deciding to see what these two men were gathering people for, we volunteered ourselves, going by our cover story of laborers in need of work. We and a few others from the village followed them the next morning. For two days we followed, further west, and a little south, following the spine of the mountains as it flowed towards the coast. We had had no confirmation that the men were sorcerers until we came to a sort of crossroads. It looked like the trail went on through miles more of forest. But then they both spoke something and waved their hands and the scene vanished. Instead we stood in front of some sort of hidden valley. There were men and tents for as far as we could see. There was smoke from weapons forges clogging the air and we could see in the distance…there were so many of them, all using magic.” Percival stopped, unable to go on.
“We followed them into the camp, staying to the back of the group. It was as we were being assigned to a group that Morgana appeared from the main tent in the camp. She was talking to the two we had followed and hadn’t noticed us. But, I’m afraid to admit, she looked up and recognized me, sire. She gave a shout and it was all we could do to flee for our lives. We were lucky our horses were as fresh as they were and that the trees blocked the spells cast. We hardly stopped to let the horses rest and drink. We only allowed ourselves to stop in a village to resupply and slept in watches when we needed to. We got here as fast as we could, but for all we know she has started her march here.” Lancelot looked up. “If she has, we don’t have much time, Sire. We must be ready for when she arrives.”
“You two have done well and I am sorry to have had to put you in such danger. For now, you are dismissed. Go, get the rest you need before you pass out here and I end up under Merlin’s glare,” he joked at the two, ignoring Merlin’s soft “Oi!” which lightened the atmosphere somewhat. The two knights bowed to their prince and left, using each other as support as they navigated their way to their rooms.
“What now, sire?” Leon asked, looking at his prince in worry.
“Now we plan, Sir Leon.” He walked to his desk and pulled a rolled map off of it. They lifted their goblets and the watered wine pitcher up, allowing Arthur to spread it on the table for all to see. “From what Lancelot and Percival told us, her camp was somewhere here, in the Garian Mountains.” He pointed to the jagged line that proclaimed where the mountains were and the path they followed. It was far northwest of Camelot and there were two other mountain ranges between them and a number of rivers and lakes. With all that, it would take Morgana’s army some time to arrive. “Our border forts have been on alert, but with how quickly those two got here and how long it would take for an army of the size they described, we still have some time, hopefully enough to mobilize our own.”
Arthur ran his hand over the border that separated the two kingdoms, a fat flowing line that threaded through the countryside. Gwaine heard Merlin suck in a sharp breath and turned to look at him, as did the others. “What is it, Merlin?” Arthur asked, though without his usual drawl. This was serious and Merlin was an equal here as they all were.
“It’s…nothing.” He was lying; they could all see it in the tense set of his shoulders. Something was wrong.
“Merlin, tell me.” Arthur commanded.
“It’s just…” He didn’t finish, but he reached out, running a gentle fingertip over a spot along the border, a black dot with the word Ealdor written in slanted letters. Merlin was chewing his lower lip in agitation, a small crease between his brows and Gwaine wished they were alone so that he could smooth it away.
“Oh…” Arthur said, realization dawning on his features.
“What is it?” Elyan finally asked, looking at the servant.
“Merlin’s mother lives in Cenred’s kingdom, right on the border.” Gwen supplied. A heavy silence descended on them.
“It’s…not that. There have been wars before and we’ve been all right. Ealdor’s secluded, and few really know it is there…but…”
“But what?” Arthur coaxed.
“Morgana…she knows. She knows my mother is still there.” The room was tense at the implications of those words. That Morgana would use Merlin’s mother to get at Merlin and through Merlin, Arthur, who cared for Hunith as if she were his own mother. That she might be willing to stoop to such means to bring Camelot and Arthur to their knees.
Part 4