WHEN THE WALLS WON'T HOLD
I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind
Blow cold
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold
'Cause from then, rubble
One remains
Can only be what's true
If all was lost
Is more I gain
'Cause it led me back
To you
- Pasek and Paul
Chapter 1
"…and I really don't think this is a good idea. I mean it's only been a month and you pretty much came back from the dead and –"
"Merlin."
"– there's no way that shoulder is ready for men in armor to be whacking at it –"
"Merlin!"
"– with sharp, pointy objects, and for you to be swinging your own sharp, pointy object back at them and I just think this whole tournament is –"
"MERLIN!" the prince finally bellowed. His servant abruptly stopped both his yammering and his somewhat unorthodox cleaning attempts.
"Stop. Just stop," Arthur begged, massaging his forehead. "My arm is fine. I'm fine. And I'm doing this tournament. Now would you just do your chores like a normal servant instead of going on and on about it like an overprotective nurse-maid? At this rate I won't be able to compete to my full ability because of the headache that you caused!"
The younger boy opened his mouth to reply, but seeing Arthur's glare snapped it shut again, shoulders slumping and head drooping, as though he was one of the pig bladders the peasant children played with that had been abruptly deflated.
For just a moment, the prince felt bad.
Merlin had been incredibly loyal and worried and extra attentive during Arthur's recovery, and though he pretended not to care, the truth was that he cared a great deal. Almost everyone else in his life – even to some extent his own father – had waited with bated breath to see if Arthur the Prince of Camelot would survive, to know the fate of the heir and future of the kingdom. But Merlin? Merlin had begged and pleaded for Arthur to get better. Not the prince, not the heir, just Arthur – his master and friend.
It was the first time in the boy's almost year of service that Arthur really made that realization. Sure, he'd risked death and his father's wrath to save Merlin when the servant had drunk poison for him, but while he had cared for the boy by that point he'd still done it more out of a sense of honor and duty to repay the debt than a burning affection.
But after the Questing Beast, Arthur knew – knew something had changed in him over the last year. Merlin – clumsy, idiotic, loyal and brave Merlin – meant a great deal more to him than just a servant. The rules of class and propriety made it hard to always acknowledge, but somehow despite them, Merlin had wormed his way into the prince's life to the point the older boy thought of him as something more than a mere manservant and closer to the role of younger brother and best friend. Because Merlin always, without fail, did what was best for Arthur the man, not Arthur the prince. He was the only one that made Arthur feel real.
So he did feel bad, pulling the master and servant card out now, but really, just because Arthur cared for Merlin way more than he probably should, it didn't mean the boy wasn't still blessed with the gift to drive him to distraction!
With the air of a kicked puppy, Merlin shut up and went back to his chore of gathering up the prince's soiled laundry and, trying to ignore him, Arthur went back to his paperwork.
It was hard, though, to ignore a sulking and silent manservant. Harder than concentrating in battle. Harder than enduring endless council sessions. Harder than winning an argument with Morgana. Arthur was just about to give up and break the silence when a knock sounded on his door.
"Enter," he called.
A castle page crept carefully into the room.
"The king sent me to get you, sire," the boy said, bowing so low he almost tipped over. "He wants you to come to the council chambers at once."
The day's council session had concluded only two hours prior. Arthur couldn't fathom why his father would call him back.
"Thank you," he said to the messenger, waving him off as he stood. He glanced at Merlin who was giving him a questioning look, obviously wondering if he should come too.
"Well, don't just stand there, idiot. Let's not keep the king waiting!" Arthur teased, hoping the younger boy would recognize it for the apology he could never actually voice.
Merlin grinned, and all was right with the world again, at least for a while.
00000
The council chambers were mostly empty when Merlin trailed in behind Arthur – just Uther, Gaius, Sir Ector – head knight under Arthur, and Sir Leon standing around one end of the table, and a few guards scattered here or there. A small, grimy chest sat on the table.
"What's going on, Father?" Arthur asked, striding up to join their group while Merlin sidled over to stand behind Gaius.
"What's that?" Merlin whispered to his mentor, asking for the extra, magical summary of events, because the look on the old man's face told him there was something.
"It was unearthed in the lower town this morning during some renovations on the wall. It bears the royal crest, so Leon had it brought here…"
"And?" Merlin pushed in a whisper, knowing there was more.
"And it fairly pulses with magic, but I cannot admit that part to the king. Can you not feel it?" Gaius added under his breath, eyebrow rising as he glanced back at his ward.
And now that he thought about it, Merlin could feel something – a throbbing pulse, pushing at his senses – hungry, demanding, waiting…
Which was a problem. Anything giving off that kind of magical feel was not something that should be messed with lightly, but explaining to the King of Camelot why an ordinary-looking wooden chest bearing his royal crest shouldn't be opened without ending up on the pyre for having magic was not an easy task.
"Did you open it yet, Leon?" Arthur was asking, as Merlin tuned back in to the others in the room.
"No, sire. I brought it straight here, as it does have the royal mark," the knight answered, pointing to a place on the lid where some of the dirt had been brushed away. Both the king and Arthur leaned in closer to look.
"This is the old crest!" Uther exclaimed, leaning in father and brushing some more dirt away. "This hasn't been used since my grandfather's time!"
Arthur looked excited and the king studied it for a moment longer, all the while the pull of the beating magic on Merlin seemed to grow stronger, throbbing along with the worry and fear and indecision.
There was something in the box. Something powerful and strong and…evil. And he needed to stop the king from opening it, but he had no idea how.
The Uther reached for the latch and Merlin was out of time and…
"My lord," Gaius said suddenly, stepping forward. Uther stopped. "Are you sure it is…wise…to open it? Surely it was buried for a reason," the physician suggested, sounding every bit the calm, collected professional.
Merlin breathed a small sigh of relief, until Uther laughed. "Gaius, my old friend, I appreciate your healthy paranoia but, it's just an old, wooden chest. Do you see anything on the box that would make you suspicious of it?"
Gaius hesitate before reluctantly saying, "No."
"Sir Leon," the king added, turning to the knight. "Was there anything odd or dangerous where it was found?"
"No, my lord," the knight answered at once. "It would never have been brought into your presence if we suspected it of ill-intent."
"There you go, Gaius. No cause to worry," Uther said. Then he pulled up the latch and threw open the lid.