Fic Merlin: Here's the thing about magic (Part 2)

[stealingpennies]

Matthew Mather sucks at the leg of a chicken. On his plate lie heaps of bones picked clean. Uther too makes a hearty meal. At the foot of the table Morgana toys with a piece of bread. Arthur pushes his spoon around a bowl of some sort of stew. Neither make much effort to actually eat.  The first witch has been found within Camelot’s boundaries. The girl, Erin, is a beggar of no known family. She is perhaps nine years old with a twisted foot that means she walks with a limping gait.

Mather has caught her gathering up feathers to use in spells. He taps her hard on her bad foot with the crook of her cane. Erin falls over crying and the feathers lift up and dance around her head. She covers her eyes and screams. Meanwhile a crowd forms chanting, “Die Witch! Die! Die!”

“And so we shall make an example of all witches,” proclaims Uther standing on the stone balcony overlooking the main courtyard. There will be a public execution on the morrow.

Merlin stands at the edges of the crowd and shivers. He knows that child or not, Uther will show no mercy.

*
Merlin spends the evening as he spends every evening pretending to read Gaius’ text books. The knock at the door makes them both jump.

“Arthur.” Surprise colours the physician’s tones. Merlin’s heart jumps at the sound of the prince’s name. This is the first time Arthur has called since Merlin left his service. The first time he has seen the prince since that day, now nearly a week ago, in Morgana’s rooms. “Come in. What brings you here?”

Arthur enters but waits until the door closes and Gaius has sat down in his usual place before his workbench before he begins to talk. He’s wearing his leather coat, clearly on watch duty of some sort. He acknowledges Merlin with a brief nod but addresses Gaius. “You and Merlin need to get out of Camelot.”

“What-“begins Gaius but Arthur cuts him off. “My father is determined that magic will not take hold at Camelot. He has requested Mather’s services in looking for witches. You need to go. At once.”

Somehow Merlin finds himself standing. The bite on his neck throbs. For a moment his eyes meet Arthur’s before the latter’s slip away. It doesn’t matter. Merlin can still look at Arthur and he does staring at the curve of ear, the fine-boned wrists. Holding himself still physically hurts.

“I’ve stopped using magic.” There. Merlin’s said it. At last. It’s not the setting  or the audience he would have chosen but fate hasn’t exactly been kind in the stage management.

Arthur’s reaction at least is dramatic enough. He swings around abruptly. “What?”

“I’ve stopped using magic,” repeats Merlin. The ‘for you’ has to go unuttered because there are some things that really can’t be said in front of anyone else.

The prince prides himself on his quick reactions, but apparently Arthur has not prepared himself for this. His mouth opens slightly and his eyes widen before he regains control. Anger, confusion, regret pass briefly across his face.

“That’s not the point. That was never the point,” he says at last. He continues, obviously picking his words carefully,  “It doesn’t matter now. Whether you choose to use magic or not if you have any magic in you Mather will detect it. He is ruthless. You have to go because it’s simply too dangerous for you to stay.”

Gaius watches the two of them, appears to come to a decision, and stands up. “I shall need to make preparations.”

“There’s no time!” says Arthur. He rests one hand on his sword and lays the other palm down on the table, smacking the wood for emphasis. “You go tonight.” Then as an almost afterthought, he adds, “There’s a girl, in the dungeons. I’ll see the guards are removed.”

The prince looks at Gaius who gives a brief nod of understanding. He turns to the door.

“Goodbye, Merlin,” says Arthur. The two words contain a million shades of meaning.

“Arthur,” says Merlin. “Sire.”

Arthur raises his brows at the title. For the first time his gaze lingers directly on Merlin. This is so wrong. Just when there is the possibility of putting things right Merlin is going to rip everything apart again. But he has no choice. “Morgana. She has to leave too.”

For a moment Arthur looks as if Merlin has hit him. Again. He gives a self-deprecating smile.  “Morgana. Of course. I’ll send her to you.”

*
Morgana arrives a little over an hour later, Gwen in tow. She’s clutching a sheaf of papers on her hand and small valise. Gwen has a slightly bigger case but it’s obvious both ladies have packed in hurry and decided to travel light.

“Border passes,” says Morgana seeing the direction of Merlin’s gaze. She hands them over for his inspection. Arthur’s black spiky writing authorises their freedom of movement throughout Camelot and its treaty-protected borders. Almost without thinking Merlin tucks the papers into the fold of his shirt. They’ll be hidden there.

Gaius has packed Merlin’s bag. He hands it over now and gathers Merlin into a hug. “Ride safe. And come back soon.”

“You’re not coming?” asks Merlin, confused. This is all happening too quickly. He really shouldn’t be going. Not now.

Gaius shakes his head. “Someone should stay. In case things get…difficult.”

“Then you go and I’ll stay,” Merlin says stubbornly. He puts his bag down.

Gaius picks the bag up and hands it back. He lowers his voice so that only Merlin can hear. “No, Merlin, you’ll never pass Mather’s tests. Gwen and Morgana may need you. And the girl needs to be got away.”

In the end Merlin gives in. Gwen and Morgana could probably manage without him but the child certainly cannot. And Camelot needs its physician.

*
The guards have been drugged in some fashion and it is an easy matter to lift the keys to the cells.

“Erin,” calls Merlin softly. The child nods but is too frightened to speak. As they help her out of the cell Merlin notes the swelling on the twisted foot and the new bruises on arms and throat. He feels a wave of hatred against the man who did this and promises himself that Mather will pay.

Gaius has two horses ready. Merlin takes one, with Erin in front of him. Gwen and Morgana ride together. It’s not ideal but four mounts would be too noticeable. Beacons have been lit at Camelot’s towers holding back the night. Merlin guides his horse away along the northern road and wonders if he will ever be able to come back home. Or what he will find when he gets back.

The inn is a pleasant two storey building a little under two days ride. Gaius has helped the innkeeper at some time and apparently the help was sufficient that four unexpected guests who must remain for indefinite period are no trouble.

After the first frightened day, Erin blossoms with the luxury of guaranteed food and shelter. She still needs to be coaxed to speak but she smiles and laughs freely. For the first time in months Merlin finds himself spontaneously using magic to entertain the child juggling half a dozen apples or making pictures from the flames in the fire. She does not respond to magic with magic. Merlin puts this down to the shock of Mather’s treatment. Maybe it will come back with time but he doubts it.  He feels no magic in her. If it was ever there it is gone. He does not know if she is to be pitied or envied. Perhaps a little of both.

Erin is afraid of feathers. She hides from the chickens in the farmyard and throws the stuffed pillows on the floor. When Morgana says Matthew Mather’s name she screams and points at her foot.

Days pass. Morgana teaches Erin a simple game using round and flat stones. Gwen sits nearby helping with some of the inn’s mending. She insists she enjoys sewing and has nearly worked her way through the pile of linens turning and hemming so as to get extra wear out of the sheets and pillowcases.

Merlin watches them both and wonders what Morgana has told Gwen about her need to flee the court. Perhaps nothing. After all, Gwen has seen how Morgana has incurred the king’s displeasure by her outspokenness. A public refusal to support Uther might be enough to provoke banishment. Merlin wonders what his own role in their exile is meant to be. Just as he will never ask Morgana straight but knows she has powers, so he knows that she will not ask him but simply accept that he can do things that others cannot.

In Merlin’s village everyone did a lot of talking. He wonders if it is a reflection of all royal houses or something specifically associated with the Pendragons that all their major conversations are held without words.

Morgana has had another nightmare. Merlin doesn’t need to ask, he can see it in the tightness under her eyes, the stiffness of her pose. She says without preamble. “There’s something very wrong happening at Camelot.”

“What have you seen?” Merlin doesn’t bother pretending ignorance. Morgana shrugs, tries to make out it’s nothing when they both know it’s not.   “Arthur…” she trails off.

“And,” he prompts.

“And, I can’t speak about it.”

Later, she asks, “Merlin, does Arthur have any magic?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No.”

“Then I think he’s in serious trouble.”

Merlin frets all day, wishes he knew how to get a message to Gaius. Morgana’s ‘gift’ seems much more of a curse but he knows enough to take it seriously.

Morgana dreams again and wakes up screaming. This time there is no indecision. They are going back to Camelot. And as quickly as possible.

Erin watches them pack with sad eyes. She, at least, is unable to return. The innkeeper and his wife promise to take care of her and Merlin thinks in time she will forget the great walled city and life she has left behind.

As they say their final goodbyes Merlin crouches in front of the child. The bruises have gone now leaving her face unmarked if still too thin from years of semi-starvation. He places his hands on her twisted foot and says a few brief words. When he moves his hands away the foot is straight. Erin stares at him pale but not frightened. Merlin puts his fingers on his lips.

“Shhh, he says. “It’s our secret. Tomorrow try and fall over and say the foot snapped back. You’ll be believed.”

She hugs him tight.

“Be happy,” he says.

*
They ride fast, spurred on by Morgana’s worries, taking the main roads and not looking for secrecy. Merlin has already decided that any obstacles to his return to Camelot he will simply deal with by magic but they meet nothing. The roads are quiet, even those leading directly to the castle itself. It’s an uneasy calm, thinks Merlin, fear prickling at his palms. Riding alongside him, Morgana’s face is set and stern. She looks preoccupied and edgy.

The gates of Camelot are guarded when they arrive and all visitors asked to report their business. It’s not unprecedented but it does betoken a crisis of some sort. No discussion is needed between Merlin, Morgana and Gwen they simply turn the horses and head for one of the lesser known entrances. For those who live in the villages, it’s easy enough to bypass security. They leave their horses at the stables and head for Gauis’ quarters.

“Gaius!” calls Merlin, letting them in with a charm and gesture since he has no door key with him.

“Merlin! Thank God!” Gaius appears at the sound of his name. He looks exhausted, at least a decade older than his already advanced years. He tries to lift an arm in greeting but only manages a few inches before giving up on the gesture. Then he collapses on his bench as if his legs are too heavy to hold him.

“What is it?” Merlin stares at Gaius. It’s obvious that something is very, very wrong.

“Arthur,” says Gaius and stops as Merlin grabs hold of his arm in a painful grip.

“What? Tell me!” insists Merlin. He’s only aware how harsh he must have sounded by the shocked look on Gwen’s face. He loosens his grip with an effort of will but does not drop his hold.

By his side, Morgana goes white. “My dream,” she says, putting her hands over her face. Gwen puts her arms around her mistress but Morgana shakes them off.  “It’s not true!” she insists. “It’s not possible.”

“Gaius! Tell me!” says Merlin again. He turns to Morgana who looks away.

Gaius seems to gather himself. The words fall out in a rush. “Uther is going to execute Arthur for sorcery tomorrow.”

Time stops. Or perhaps it doesn’t.

“That’s not possible,” Merlin says at last, but he knows that Gaius would not lie.

Gaius repeats himself slowly this time so that there is no possibility of misunderstanding. “Uther going to execute Arthur for sorcery. Tomorrow.”

“Tell me,” says Merlin for the third time. He speaks quietly now heat replaced by chill.

It’s a simple enough story. Matthew Mather has found more witchcraft cases. Just one or two but enough to unsettle the whole of the kingdom. If Camelot is not safe then nowhere is. Determined to systematically route out the evil of magic Uther decrees that every man, woman and child in the kingdom shall be tested and declared free from possession. Or not. And, to lead by example, the first to undergo testing shall be the king’s son.

Merlin has to sit down at this point. He’s beginning to guess how the story is going unfold and his legs have started to shake. “I don’t understand,” he says. “Arthur doesn’t have magic.”

Gaius glances at him and continues his account by way of reply. “There’s so many to get through that Mather has devised a simple test that will enable the whole of Camelot to be tested within two days. His cane, it seems, can detect the presence of sorcery. If the person be untainted they catch the cane and throw it back.”

“And?” Morgana this time. Merlin is beyond speech. He wishes he were beyond hearing. If he does not have to listen it may not be true. They should have come back earlier. He should have trusted the truth of Morgana’s dreams.  Using magic has been bad. Not using it is proving worse.

“Mather threw the cane at Arthur.  Arthur caught it one handed like he does. He was laughing. But when he came to throw it back the staff came alive swirling and hissing in the form of a snake wrapping itself around his wrist like a familiar. Mather spoke some powerful prayers and after a few minutes the snake stiffened and dropped returning to the form of a staff but the damage was done. The people had all seen. Uther condemned his son on the spot.”

Merlin feels as his heart has stopped beating. He forces the words out, needing to know. “What did Arthur say.”

There’s pity in Gaius’ face and a little admiration. “He said ‘I submit to your judgement, Sire.’”

“And Uther let him?” Behind him Merlin can hear small cries as Gwen and Morgana take in Gaius’ tale but he is wholly focussed on Gaius.

The pity in Gaius’ face is now for Merlin as he tries to explain. “Merlin, he had no choice.”

Something hardens within Merlin. Arthur might submit but Merlin never will. He hears his voice speaking coldly, clearly. “What time did Uther set?”

Gaius moves a hand towards Merlin and checks the gesture as Merlin recoils but he is unable to stop the emotion showing in his voice and face. “Dawn. I’m sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin turns on him. “Don’t be. It’s not going to happen.”

*
The dungeons are free from guards. When they get to the cells it is easy to see why. Arthur is not here. For a moment Merlin looks at Morgana in near panic. Where could he be?

“The Royal Cambers,” she says, after a minute’s thought. “They all lock. Uther could post guards outside and still allow Arthur to ...” she trails off a moment. “To spend his last night in reasonable comfort.”

Merlin does not reply. His mind simply refuses to dwell on this fact.

Morgana strolls to her quarters as if she has never been away with Merlin and Gwen trailing her like the servants they are. They meet the odd person who Morgana simply stares down. No one but the king dares question his ward. Arthur’s rooms are a short way from the Morgana’s. There are no guards posted outside. Merlin’s heart sinks. If not here, where could Arthur be?

He tries the door anyway. It is not locked. Neither is the room empty. Arthur and Uther stand by the window watching as the carpenters construct the execution stand. They are building higher than usual to ensure the crowds get a good view. People have already started gathering. Prince and king turn to stare as the door opens.

“What is this?” asks Uther. “I gave orders that none were to disturb us.” He speaks normally, only the lines on his face and the tightness of the grip of his hands on the chair back betray stress.

Arthur smiles his incredible smile. He is genuinely amused. “I think it may be a rescue attempt.”

“Your friends are loyal,” says Uther looking beyond Merlin to Gwen and Morgana.

“Misguided,” corrects Arthur.

“Come in, Morgana.” The king gestures her forward. Events have moved beyond anger at her unexplained absence. “We need to talk about your future role.”

As if freed by a signal, Arthur moves to the door effectively exchanging places with Morgana.  Gwen retreats to a discreet distance along the corridor. For a moment Merlin and Arthur look at each other. Merlin is afraid to speak in case his voice cracks.

“Arthur,” he manages at last and with only a slight hitch.

“Merlin,” says Arthur. “I can’t say I’m surprised given your past history in successfully carrying out orders.”

It’s a good attempt at nonchalance. Merlin tries to catch the mood and fails. This is too important to waste time. “Come away,” he begs. “You’re not a sorcerer.”

“I can’t,” says Arthur. “The test was carried out in public so the punishment must be seen likewise.” He wrinkles his face in thought. “It’s strange, I would have thought I would have known I was possessed. Did you know?”

And now, inappropriately it’s Merlin who wants to laugh. Of all the times for Arthur to be dense. Or honourable. Or whatever.

“Arthur,” says Merlin furiously, fighting back the impulse to thump his master. “Trust me, you’re not possessed or full of magic or full of anything that is not totally you.”

“Would you know?” Arthur sounds genuinely curious. “Maybe I’ve been enchanted since you left.”

“Yes, I would know. And no, you have not.” says Merlin definitely, although he’s not sure. There’s something about Arthur, always has been, but whatever it is it has nothing to do with sorcery. He hears his voice entreating, “Please don’t die for a lie.”

Arthur takes his hand, running his index finger up and down each of Merlin’s fingers in turn before lacing their fingers together. “Not for a lie. For Camelot. The test was carried out in public. I have to abide by the same rules as any of my father’s subjects. There can be no other choice.”

Everything that Merlin ever thinks is reflected in his face. It is now. Arthur gives him that look of ‘you’ll never understand it but just accept’ and he has to look away because he doesn’t understand and he can’t accept and that’s no help here and now.

“You should go now,” says Arthur. “After, promise me you’ll go somewhere safe. Get Morgana out too, if you can, although if she is heir that may not be possible. Perhaps keep an eye on my father because this is difficult for him.”

Saying no is impossible. But so is yes, so Merlin merely nods not wanting to destroy Arthur’s faith in him. He clutches Arthur’s hands in his knowing that’s the only contact they’ll get.

“Arthur.” Uther’s voice clearly signals that this interview must be over.

“Oh, one last thing,” says Arthur reaching for the pendant at his neck. “This is for you. I imagine you’d rather have it now.”   As Merlin makes no move to take it he drops it over his servant’s head himself arranging it so it hangs centrally over the open neck of his shirt.  The stone hits Merlin’s skin still warm from where it has rested against Arthur’s chest.

“Suits you,” he says regarding his efforts.

“Not as much as it suits you,” replies Merlin.

“Naturally not,” agrees Arthur with an attempt at a smile. “But since that’s not going to be an option you’ll wear it well.”

“Morgana,” Uther addresses his ward, as she and Arthur once more trade places, door for window. “You will be expected to attend.”

Morgana says nothing. She embraces Arthur briefly as they pass. Outside the carpenter’s hammers continue to strike nails against wood as they hurry to finish their task before dark.

*
Light comes in roses and yellows lighting up the cream stones of the castle casting a glow of beauty on a scene of misery. The castle is unnaturally still. The coloured flags have been replaced in their turrets by black banners.

Executions always draw a crowd. For the execution of the crown prince the onlookers started gathering early to ensure a prime position. Merlin spares a thankful thought that Morgana insisted on accompanying him. She is able to open a path for them through the crowds up to the area reserved for the noble guests. This too is packed. Merlin scrunches in a corner surveying the executioners block and realises he has no idea what to do.

Uther and Arthur arrive together dressed in armour overlaid by cloth tabards bearing the Pendragon crest. It might be any other royal occasion except that only one of them will be leaving and the prince’s hands are bound in front of him. Instead of the royal balcony Uther leads his son to the lower platform where the masked executioner waits. By his side Matthew Mather waits cane in hand. His eyes feast greedily on the scene.

Prince and king stand facing each other then, at nod from Uther, turning forward to face the assembled crowds.

The executioner bows to the king and makes to put one hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You shall not touch him,” says Uther in a voice that carries across the courtyard. “My son submits to the judgment of Camelot yet he is still its prince and kneels to no man but the king.”

“Sire,” says Arthur, and half smiles at his father who responds by kissing him on either cheek. Arthur kneels. He’s not as graceful as usual due to the bound hands but Uther’s hand on his shoulder balances him somewhat. Merlin stares in surprise. For the first time since he has known him Uther’s hands are bare. The fingers on Arthur’s cheek touch flesh to flesh. Arthur gazes up proudly. He looks every inch a prince. Father and son hold each others’ gaze. Once again, they might be alone at some private meeting.

Merlin thinks his heart might break.

The executioner approaches Uther. It’s an unprecedented occasion and it’s unclear as to what to do next. He gestures with his axe. Uther replies without taking his eyes off his son. “I will carry out sentence myself.”

There is a collective ‘Ahhh’ across the crowd. Uther draws his sword. Arthur raises his chin exposing his neck.

Merlin pulls the tower down.

Stones, glass, metal rain down on the platform. Screams echo around the courtyard. The front of the structure gets off lightly. Uther jumps in front of his son who’s somewhat hampered by his position on his knees with bound hands.

As the dust settles a single scream continues, pitched sharp with pain. Mather has been skewered with a glass shard. He tries to flex his hands but the pain has broken the hold he has on his familiar. The ivory staff is once again a snake curling and hissing around the pinned form.

A few feet away, Uther helps Arthur to his feet. He unbinds the prince’s hands, gently chaffing life back into them. They have a short intense conversation. Uther comes to the front of the platform to address his people. He holds his hands up for silence and the courtyard quietens. Behind him Mather’s moans and sobs continue unabated. Uther’s voice rings out. There’s no mercy in it. “People of Camelot. We see today how the evils of magic can seek to undermine the very foundations of our kingdom. This man - he indicates Mather - did seek to kill your prince, our future. My son.” Here, for the first time, Uther’s voice falters slightly. He quickly recovers. “Those of you with family who suffered at his hands, let his death be retribution for your families. No slow death but a drawn out agony of mind and body.”

Merlin shudders. He sees Arthur’s face. It’s not a choice Arthur would make but Merlin knows Arthur will support his father. Even unto death.

*
Merlin waits until late before entering Arthur’s room. He knocks and when there is no answer opens the door anyway. The same as always.

Arthur is sitting at the table. There’s a small cut across his cheekbone caused by falling debri. He looks tired, but that is hardly surprising.

“I thought you might like this back,” says Merlin, pulling the stone pendant off over his head and dangling it in his fingers.

“It was a gift,” says Arthur.

“I’m gifting it back.”

“It looks better on me anyway,” says Arthur with almost believable arrogance which he can’t quite manage to maintain for the next question. “Did you pull the tower down?

“Yes,” says Merlin.

“Crude but effective. Did you know what would happen or were you just covering the options in case my father bottled out?”

“How can you even joke about it? Your father would have killed you.”

Arthur looks shocked at the strength of his response. He drops the pretence of being carefree. "He had no choice. It was his duty. You have to understand that. I would willingly die for Camelot.”

“I do understand,” says Merlin, who doesn’t but knows that this is something essential to Arthur and not to be compromised. Unthinkingly Merlin’s raises his hand to his neck where the mark Arthur placed on him still faintly shows. Arthur catches the gesture. He continues carefully. “Do you? One day you may have to make the choice not to save me.”

Merlin nods and hopes that when the time comes he’ll be able to tell the difference and act accordingly.

“Come in then,” says Arthur. “Lock the door if you’re staying.”

Pendragons have all their major conversations without words. Merlin supposes he’s catching on since he does as he’s bid. Arthur doesn’t move. He seems to give way all of a sudden folding his arms and resting his head against the wooden table. Merlin perches on the table top since that’s easiest. Since Arthur doesn’t seem inclined to talk Merlin contents himself with resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s neck rubbing his thumb lightly over the skin. Eventually the
 tautness eases and Arthur leans a little resting his head on Merlin’s thigh. It’s a start, thinks Merlin, moving his fingers lightly through the prince’s hair. They’ve got time to work on the rest.

* * *

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