A/N: Seriously, how are there like fifteen stories on here where Merlin goes to Hogwarts and none where he meets the Founders? (There probably are on another site, but whatever)
Dedication goes to Sofiajedi, because she let me bounce lame ideas off her until something vaguely not nonsensical came out of it, even though there was homework to be done.
Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor the Harry Potter series. I just have Harry Potter Wiki bookmarked and jeeeesus Season 5 I am shipping Merlin/Mordred with a fiery burning passion even though Arthur and Merlin were touching butts. Also what possessed Merlin to leave Aithusa with Morgana (who has gone batshit crazier and I am sorry but she would make the actual worst Queen at this point she has no control over her emotions also still not over Merlin/Mordred) and also Arthur is his own downfall which is fascinating and I have so many thoughts and also I don't own this show which is what I originally meant to say. Oh right also none of my friends watch this show and my lack of understanding rant partners is ruining my life because goddammit I have so many conflicting feelings.
But hey, back to fic.
The tavern on the border of Mercia and Camelot had seen some impressive clientele before. Knights commonly stopped in for a pint of ale when returning from their patrols, nobles on the way to Camelot who had ventured off the main road occasionally strayed in, and of course there was the average lot of merchants, healers and rogues who were attracted by the inn's location - not quite on the main road, but close enough to the woodland paths that quick travel could be had.
But never in all the days of the inn had it seen patrons so…unique, as the four currently clustered round a table in the corner.
The tallest woman, clothed in a dark blue gown of silk and matching velvet cloak, was the most striking. She was of pale skin and hair black as night, with dark eyes and a manner that dared any of the local peasantry to attempt conversation. She sipped at a cup of wine, the cleanest in the tavern.
The other woman, who sat beside her, was less intimidating. She was clad in pretty yellow cotton, more practical for traveling, and had bright blue eyes that sparkled with hidden laughter. Her hair, all curls of auburn-streaked blonde, fell freely down her back, unlike her companion's tightly braided locks. She had less fear of lice, despite the conditions. She drank mead, and looked far more amenable to being bought a drink.
But no man would attempt it, for the male companions who sat by them turned fell eyes upon any men who even glanced in the direction of the ladies. Only one wore a sword at his side - the broader chested one, a tall man with dark brown hair streaked with red. He wore red clothes and expensive leather, and had consumed more ale than all his companions combined.
Still, it was the other male whose gaze was a greater deterrent. This man had close cropped black hair and cool grey eyes, and was wrapped in a cloak of purest emerald green. He wore no sword, though the cloak covered a dagger, and his face suggested that he would sooner cut out his own tongue than speak to anyone.
No one at the tavern knew what those four discussed, only that the tall man was oft sent up to the counter for more drafts. A curious humming sound simply filled the ears of the peasants sitting close to them, one which muffled all speech.
"Come on now Salazar." The dark haired woman said, looking faintly amused as she drank. "This is a foul mood even for you."
"I mislike being in Camelot." Salazar, the man in green, grumbled. "This is folly."
"It's a new King." The yellow clothed woman protested. "Uther's dead now, and he's cold in his grave by now. And the mead's not poison, you know."
"New King, old laws." Salazar snapped back at her. "And Helga, I'll wager that you'd be just as dead if you filled that cup up yourself rather than wasting coin here than if you'd attempted it ten years ago."
"Cheer up, my friend!" The tall man said with a grin, whapping Salazar on the back. "Have some optimism! Things may work out well."
"No one asked for your drunken opinion, Godric."
"Too bad." Godric said with a grin, clearly not in the least perturbed by Salazar's sour look. "My opinion only becomes louder the more ale I've had."
"Too all of our dismay." Rowena said dryly. "Really, you do know we need to make an early start tomorrow if we're to reach Camelot before sunset?"
"I have the luck of having a most delightful friend," Godric slung an arm round Salazar's shoulders. "Who is a master of brewing the most lovely potions, and who will, if I grovel at his feet for long enough, consent to heal my head."
"Not if you keep acting like a fool." Salazar grumbled. But a smile lifted the corners of his mouth all the same.
"I'm with Godric." Helga said, taking a gulp of her mead. "This is our last night before we sup in Camelot and are forced to make awkward conversation with nobles we've not seen in years, who no doubt wonder why we've all kept politely declining the invitations Uther sends out for banquets."
"I just want to see the peasant Queen whose so captured the King's heart that he'll take her back after she betrays him on their wedding night with his own most loyal knight." Salazar said.
"You want to scope out the new King." Rowena corrected him, rolling her eyes. "The gossip is secondary."
"That hardly makes it less interesting." Salazar glanced at Godric. "You know, I believe I will have a pint of ale, in the spirit of solidarity."
"That's the spirit, my friend!" Godric whapped him on the back again, a grin firmly in place. He collected Helga's empty tankard and drained his own. "Rowena, care for a top off?"
"I plan to revel in your pain on the morrow, Godric." Rowena said.
"Suit yourself." Godric, with admirably steady steps, walked up to the counter, and smiled over it at the barmaid. "Two pints of ale, and a tankard of mead, if you will."
"Got the coin?"
"Are you that afraid of being robbed?" Godric reached into his purse. The barmaid smiled as the silver coins clinked on the table.
"Not so much nowadays, but one can never be too careful." A young boy, perhaps her own son, ran past Godric, smacking into his leg. Godric managed to keep from staggering, but the boy would have fallen on his backside if Godric didn't reach down to catch him. "Percy!"
"It's fine." Godric said. Despite all appearances, the man knew how to be diplomatic. "Children were born to race around knocking into things."
"I suppose." The barmaid took his coin and slid the drinks cross the counter. "Are you feeling quite right, milord? You look like you've taken a funny turn."
Godric, who looked a great deal more sober then than he'd appeared for the past hour, smiled at her. "Fine, lass."
He walked back to the table, plunking down Helga and Salazar's drinks without sitting down.
"What's wrong?" Salazar was the first to ask.
Godric lowered his voice. He could have shouted his words to the raft and the charm would have held, but it was instinct to speak quietly. "I've got to leave. If I'm not back in an hour, one of you come searching for me."
"Where are you going?" Helga asked, looking alarmed.
"The woods." Godric handed over a note, written in a flowing hand not fit for such a dirty scrap of parchment. "It seems a long distanced cousin of mine desires to see me."
The forest was never meant to be silent in the late night. There were deer hiding in the bushes who made leaves rustle, bats that fluttered round treetrops. Small woodlands creatures darted over rocks and through the trees, none of them perturbed by darkness.
As Godric walked further into the forest, they left him, until the only movement in the forest was the breeze stirring the leaves on the trees, and the faint sound of his own footsteps on the dirt. He paused just before all sound faded entirely and turned, crouching down and looking towards the forest floor.
He caught a glint of light reflecting off scales, and had to smile.
The smile faded as the breeze died. Godric drew his sword. It lit up the forest with white light, the bloodred rubies on it's hilt shining and casting an eerie glow over the clearing to which Godric had walked.
"Show yourself, cousin." He called. "Else I'll have to force you."
There was the faintest rustle, and another figure appeared. This one was smaller than Godric, and cloaked in black, only a pale white throat visible in the light. When it spoke, it was clearly a female, and one who had not had life without hardship. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.
"You call me cousin. I confess, this surprises me."
"You are my cousin's daughter." Godric sheathed his sword. The light dimmed, until only moonlight illuminated the two of them.
"News must not have reached your corner of Cornwall." Morgana Pendragon cast back her hood, and looked upon him with a strange expression. "I thought my sire was known through all the land now."
"No, I heard that tale." Godric said. "But would Gorlois wish me to cast a girl he considered daughter from the family, simply for her mother's mistake and the lust of Uther Pendragon? No, you're of Cornwall."
"That is…stubborn, of you." Morgana said softly. "But you have my thanks."
"What purpose do you have in summoning me here?" Godric asked. He looked upon her with worry. "Do you have need of shelter, healing?"
"What did you hear of Camelot?" Morgana asked abruptly.
"I heard that you made a foolish attempt at upstaging the proper heir, and twice that same heir defeated you and cast you out." Godric said bluntly. "And I heard that you inherited the gift of magic inherent in my side of the family."
"I didn't know our bloodline cast such far reaching magical roots." Morgana confessed. "When Morgause was…when she lay dying, she told me that there were more powerful spell casters than we in Albion, but I thought that when she said the name Gryffindor that she was raving."
"I did not know Morgause." Godric said with a shrug. "Our family tree has withered in recent years. But those families with the gift do form a society of sort, and those of us with the greatest power keep in touch as best we can, as secretively as we must. And you've not answered my question."
"I summoned you here because a spy of mine saw you on the roads, and recognized your crest." Morgana said, again the strange tone to her words. "And there is nothing of import on this road but Camelot."
"You use children for spies and messengers?" Godric asked.
"They're innocent enough, and willing to carry a message for a crone." Morgana's smile was wintry. "You are headed to Camelot?"
"King Arthur is holding a tourney for his Queen." Morgana let out a breathless laugh. "What was the jest?"
"Oh, I was just reveling in a triumph over an old enemy of mine." She shook her head. "It is no matter. Camelot is not a place of safety for those with magic."
"I and my companions are not petty witches who can simply be strapped to a stake and burned." Godric informed her, not without arrogance. "We knew the law when we set out. It would be gravely rude to refuse the first summons the new King has made to his neighbors, and we wish to see if he was another Uther."
This time Morgana's laugh was ugly. "I assure you, my half brother is exactly like Uther."
"Is he?"
"He is vain and arrogant, petty and cruel, and no more tolerant of magic than his father was before him. He seeks to surround himself with fools greater even than he, acts to appease his own conscience rather than true justice." Morgana spat out her words like poison. "His bride is no better than he, a girl who forgets in a heartbeat her true friends and will abuse hew newfound power ere she has even grasped it. I knew them both, and I know what danger they are to the world of magic and our kind."
"I thank you for the warning." Godric said. "It will be passed on to my friends."
"No." Morgana shook her head. "Not a warning. I haven't the strength to seize Camelot on my own - magic fails me time and time again, for there is a…" she seemed to clear her head. "He is of no import, not compared to the power you and your companions are rumored to wield. I do not have the power to take Camelot from it's King, but you, and your companions, with use of magic and metal, coin and spells, you might take it."
"…you wish us to conquer Camelot for you?" Godric stared at her.
"For all magical folk." Morgana pressed. "Can we endure another Uther? Can those born to magic bear yet another tyrant on the throne of Camelot, one who will enforce old laws, murder children, make every Kingdom in Albion in terror of magic - "
"Enough." Godric said sharply. Morgana abated, though her gaze still burned at him. "Cousin, you know not what you say. We go to Camelot as invited guests, we are under the King's hospitality…"
"Cast a spell before him." Morgana said scornfully. "See how well the code of the hearth serves you then."
"And we cannot simply go about conquering kingdoms!" Godric finished. "Morgana, as much as I may feel for the plight of our kind, none of us desire to rule a Kingdom. It's significantly more work than any of us need."
"You would abandon your people." Morgana looked at him coldly.
"I have offered you shelter. My hollow is well protected by spell work, and it is outside the laws of Camelot, you would be safe."
"Unlike some, I cannot rest with my people dying."
That pricked Godric. "My Lady. None of us rest…"
"Then you wait, craven, behind your spell work, unwilling to take on the might of Camelot?" Morgana flung on him.
Godric's face darkened. "Craven is not a word I am used to being called."
"Then prove your worth. If you do not wish to rule, then subdue the people and put me as Monarch. The banner of the lion would be far preferable to seeing a species near extinct hover over us all."
"This is no decision I can make alone." Godric said helplessly. "And without seeing myself how Camelot's new ruler shall reign."
"Then observe Arthur for yourself. I invite you to see the supposed honor of Camelot." Morgana said, making to turn away. "But expect nothing more than feigned chivalry and incompetent servants."
"Are you sure that there is nothing I might do for you?" Godric called after her.
"Give me my home, safe again." She said over her shoulder. Godric watched her sweep away into the shadows, and listened to the sound of animals reclaiming the clearing for themselves. At long last he sighed and knelt, holding out a hand.
"Come here, little one. I doubt Salazar will want you slithering though the forest alone, and I intend to walk quickly." A snake wound it's way from behind a stone, a familiar grey-green animal that Godric was used to seeing coiled somewhere on the person of his best friend. Two bright black eyes seemed to wink up at him as the serpent coiled itself in Godric's hand.
"She wishes us to what?" Rowena said incredulously.
"I know." Godric lifted his hands. "I'm only her messenger."
"She must have the Pendragon proclivity for madness." muttered the black haired sorceress, starting to pace. They had all four retired to their chambers above the tavern, and were crowded into Rowena's room. "To suggest that we take control of Camelot is lunacy."
"Do you trust her?" Helga was sitting upon the straw stuffed pallet that passed for a bed, a final cup of warmed mead cradled in her hands.
"She is my kin." Godric said with a shrug.
"Bah." Salazar muttered. "When you last see her, before tonight?"
"When she was a girl of three." Godric admitted. "But her father was a good man."
"Not her true father." Salazar said. His snake was now draped across his shoulders, small enough that it could have coiled itself upon one. "Let's not forget from whose blood she springs. You are far too trusting of her, Godric."
"It's not as though she could harm any of us." Godric pointed out. "For pity's sake, I had an enchanted sword that I might have drawn on her in an instant, and a most venomous serpent waiting by her ankle. She is no threat."
"Do you think she spoke truth?" Helga asked.
"I don't see why she should lie."
"Power, powerful allies, a way for her to transport herself from hovel back to palace?" Salazar grumbled.
"She seemed passionate enough for the magical inhabitants of this land." Godric protested. "And for heaven's sakes, it's not as though I'm saying that we ought to ride into Camelot and curse Arthur Pendragon and his Queen."
"Good. That would be highest folly." Rowena said sharply. "We can no sooner afford to take Camelot by magic than we can afford to set fire to this inn. More harm than good would come of it."
"As you say." Godric smiled wryly. "You and Salazar are both against it then?"
"Helga gets a vote." Rowena pointed out.
"We'll be at Camelot on the morn." Helga said gently. "And there we can judge for ourselves the character of Arthur Pendragon. And if he proves to be as his father, then we will ride away as soon as politeness permits, and take with us any of magic we may find. Until such time as we are out of the world of humans entirely, we can scarce afford them as an enemy. And who knows, there may be friends at Camelot."
"Unlikely." Salazar said with a snort. "Godric, a question - she referenced dragons as only near extinct?"
"I suppose."
Salazar rolled his eyes. "It didn't occur to you to ask why she worded it thus?"
"I was a bit preoccupied with the fact that she wanted us to invade one of the most powerful kingdoms in Albion." Godric grumbled. "What of it?"
"Well, were she saying that the Pendragons were the only dragons neath the skies, that would be nothing of consequence. But a report of a literal dragon who was free and roaming would be nice to know!" Salazar's voice was rarely raised, and it was always a bit alarming to hear it in a shout.
"Peace, both of you." Rowena cut in. "You may investigate Camelot itself for records that your serpents have powerful cousins still living, if any survived the purge I'm sure that Uther would have kept records of where they might be, if only to harbor dreams of hunting them down. It will give you something to do while the rest of us socialize. And Godric, the next time you are off to a secret meeting with a known convict, you might bring her back so the rest of us could speak to her."
"Apologies." Godric looked sheepish. "It did not occur to me."
"We know." Rowena's voice held some fondness.
"I believe we've all been up far too late after a long day's riding." Helga said gently. "I'd suggest we all retire."
"Before Godric does something yet more foolish." Salazar said, no cruelty in his voice, only some easy amusement as Godric mock-glared at him.
In Camelot, it was easy to forget what a great celebration was to be held next day. The warlock who looked over Camelot saw many lights on in homes, but no more than usual, and saw people walking in the streets, no drunker than usual.
"Merlin, would you get your lazy backside away from the window and help me?" He started at the sound of the King's voice. Merlin had thought he was alone in the room, and hadn't heard the King enter the royal chambers. "Have you even bothered to clean today?"
"Well, perhaps if I hadn't been clearing out half the old rooms in the palace all day, and spent the rest of it polishing your armor, I would have had time!" Merlin snapped back. His patience, ever more thin, was at the point of snapping. "So forgive me if there's some bloody dust on your precious table!"
"Someone's got their trousers in a wad." Arthur commented. Merlin sighed and moved to the King, sliding his jacket off his shoulder and taking the crown off him as well. He wondered if Arthur knew the way he always sighed in relief when the heavy weight left him.
"Long day." Merlin said shortly.
"Worth it though." Arthur tugged off his shirt himself, looking round his chambers for a fresh one. "Half the rulers of Albion will be coming to compete for my Queen's favor, and the other half wishing they were here."
"Hmm." Merlin made a noncommittal noise. "Your shirt is laid out on the bed. Just as it always is."
"Right." Arthur put it on, and picked up the flagon of wine on his table. He filled a glass and raised it. "To my continued long and happy union."
"You do realize I don't have a drink?" Arthur shrugged and downed his anyway. Merlin refilled it out of habit. "I hope you know how irate Gaius is going to be during all of this. He's stocked enough of his hangover potions to cure half the garrison, and he thinks he'll run out in the second day."
"It lasts only a week, Merlin." Arthur paused. "He's likely right."
"Isn't he always?" Merlin had heard Gaius's words so many times - this is your own fault, why harbor false hopes, you knew it would happen - that he was almost immune to the old man's continual flood of wisdom. "Do you need an escort?"
"I can find my way to my wife's chambers on my own." Arthur said in some amusement. "Be waiting for me when I return."
"I always am." Merlin said, but Arthur was already walking out the door, in a fresh shirt. Merlin knew Gwen was in her own chambers, waiting for her husband, just as she was every night when Arthur went to her. "Always will be."
He spoke the words to an empty room. Merlin sighed, and began to clean the dust from under Arthur's bed. He knew he had time - Arthur never hurried his nuptials - and so he banked the fire with a wave of his hand.
Merlin regretted the actions moments later. He could have used some comfort from the heat of the flames, as none would be offered to him by way of a warm body. He was used to a near celibate life, given that the last time he'd a partner it had been Will, and Will was long since dead, but having to help his newly wedded King into bed each night had rather exacerbated his own loneliness.
Do not begrudge them. Merlin said to himself, a mantra he'd repeated to himself for so many years, he no longer remembered when he'd first had to think the words. Let them find happiness in each other. It is no more than they deserve.
And yet…Merlin sat in Arthur's chair and cleaned the King's chambers by magic, and begrudged them.
The Queen's chambers were large. Too large, Gwen had always felt, when she cleaned in here - too large, too deserted, for no one but the occasional maid set foot in here while Igraine languished, and Catherine simply shared a bed with Uther.
Gwen would never blame her. The bed in the Queen's chambers was stuffed with swan feathers, no doubt, but it felt empty to her, and she often wondered how Igraine could stand it.
Perhaps, if a child were in the adjoining chamber…
"Good night." Arthur leaned over the bed, kissing her cheek. Gwen smiled as well as she could. She was naked beneath the sheets, and cold, wishing that the maids Arthur assigned her had properly banked her fire. She would get out of bed and do it herself, and perhaps clean herself off a bit as well, just as soon as her husband left her.
"Sleep well, my love." Gwen watched him leave. Arthur was always very handsome, in the after glow, with his hair mussed and his pretty blue eyes so distant. But he knew far less of how to be a husband than she knew of how to be a Queen.
It was to be expected, as both had never been trained for those particular roles. Gwen knew how to be a wife - her mother had died when she was twelve, shortly before Gwen went into Morgana's service - but there had never been a Queen for Gwen to watch, even from afar. And there had never been a marriage which Arthur was intimate with, he'd never seen his Father be tender with any woman.
Never before had Gwen so appreciated the gap left by Queen Igraine. She rolled over and tugged her sheets around her breasts, suddenly too weary to get up and bother with the fire. It was on the other side of these vast chambers, and to get to it she would need get up and walk in bare feet over freezing stone floors.
Sure enough, in minutes another door opened, and her maid scuttled in. Gwen closed her eyes and pretended to drowse as the girl swore softly at the state of the fire and began to fix it, until heat radiated toward Gwen.
Gwen kept listening, as the maid padded up to her bed and removed the nightgown from the floor where Arthur had tossed it. She'd done the same for Morgana, picking up the remnants of clothing on the floor when her mistress discarded them.
But this maid didn't bother to find her an extra blanket, or draw it gently over her. Gwen buried her head in her pillow as the maid left, leaving the room warm, while the heat drained from the blankets where her husband ought to have lain.
A/N: I wrote this before the Season 5 premier aired, so it was originally intended to take place before those episodes, but I think it works post as well.
Review? Please? I haven't written in Merlin fandom in ages, I barely remember how, so concrit would rock.