Title: The Prince and the Warlock
Author: Devilluck
Rating: K+ (though I'm mostly thinking K)
Warning: Vague (and I do mean vague) spoiler for 2x07
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own!
A/N: Well, this turned out different to how I expected. It's slightly slashier than expected, so be warned. Also, apologies for any confusion. And cheese. The idea just sort of hit as I watched it.
****
The sky above was a clear blue as two young men, raced through the forest, disturbing the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Taunts flew from one to the other, barely heard over the outraged squawking of birds. It was clear to any onlookers that the slighter boy was unused to physical exertion – before long, he began to drop back to the obvious delight of the other. Eventually, he stopped entirely and threw himself down on the ground, one arm flung over his eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun, mentally wondering how long it would be before his absence was noticed. He had managed to recite the medicinal properties of almost two hundred plants before a body flung itself down next to him. Turning his head slightly, he looked at the prince of Camelot. Blue eyes met blue eyes before both faces broke out into identical grins.
"You gave up early."
"I am perfectly happy to admit I am not as fit as you are, sire. Some of us are blessed with brawn; others with brains."
The prince snorted, the banter evidently normal between the two men. "And I suppose you suppose you have brains?"
A lazy hand waved between them, eyelids closing. "One of us has to be intelligent, and everyone knows it's not – ooof!"
The smaller man glared up into the unrepentant face of his friend, winded after having, what seemed like, a mountain of pure muscle land on him. After a brief attempt to push the blond man off, which only resulted in further loss of breath, he eventually gave up and lay back.
"See, this is how you're supposed to be. Subservient. Much more fitting for our roles, don't you think?" The stronger man remarked, as a smile played around his lips. A narrowing of the eyes was all the warning he got before the boy beneath him gathered his strength and, taking the prince by surprise, pushed him off into the dirt and leaves.
"I serve the greater good, sire. Somebody has to keep your head small enough to fit the crown."
"Do something."
"I-what?" Surprise at the change of subject was clear in his voice. He was, at the very least, expecting an insult.
The prince waved his hand and wiggled his fingers in a way which he no doubt thought was mysterious. "Do something. Something, you know. Magic."
The warlock took only a moment to raise an eyebrow before screwing his face up in concentration. Stretching out his arm, he hesitantly muttered a few ancient words, causing the leaves to rise up into the shape of a dragon.
"For you, sire."
The young prince gazed in wonder at the dragon in front of them, watched as it seemingly breathed fire, red leaved flying out of its mouth to fall harmlessly upon the ground. "Magic." He breathed.
*****
"There can be no exceptions to the law!"
"Sire, I am your friend, I beg you-"
"What sort of a king would you have me be? One who goes back on his word? One who breaks the law for those he knows? I cannot do it, there must be one rule for all. You once told me you believed I would be great, how can I be so if I am not also strong?"
"Sire-" Suspiciously bright eyes locked, as the two men stared at each other, each praying the other would give in. The blond man tore away with a groan and began pacing the floor of his chambers.
"I am not going to kill you, I cannot, there is…there is no reason…" He swallowed loudly, overcome by the terror of a life without his friend, especially now. "You must leave here. Go to Ealdor. You know people there; you will be welcome. I will not come looking for you."
"Please…"
The now-king of Camelot looked down to where his dearest friend knelt, hands trembling, head bowed. If he looked hard enough, he could make out a faint tinge of grey in the other's hair, a tinge which he knew was reflected in his own.
"Do you not see? I am offering you freedom."
"Sire, I cannot leave you. We need not admit to my magic, I can practice only in the forest…" The warlock's voice trailed off as the king groaned and turned away.
"Would you make me a hypocrite as well as weak? You know it is forbidden to shelter sorcerers! I am bound in this matter!"
"I-I will stop." His words were spoken so quietly that the blond man almost didn't hear them. When he realised what had been said, however, he whirled around so quickly that he made himself dizzy.
"What?"
"I said…I will stop. I will stop practicing magic. I will stand for the position of Court Physician. Then you need not hide a sorcerer, sire, only pardon an old friend for crimes he will never again commit."
"But that knowledge of what you could do would tear at you!"
The soon-to-be-ex-warlock smiled ruefully and shrugged. "We have saved each other many times over the years. My life is yours, as is my magic, and if this is the only way that I can help you become the great king you are destined to be, then I choose it."
The king, overcome by the loyalty he found in his servant's eyes, fell to his knees and embraced the other man firmly. "Thankyou. Thankyou."
****
The king leant on the rampart of the castle, looking out across the city, listening to the bustle of the people below. The sound of footsteps alerted him to the presence of his friend, somehow knowing it would be him. Sure enough, he caught a glimpse of hair, now completely grey, out of the corner of his eye.
"Mercia are attacking again" He remarked, met by a murmured noise of acknowledgement.
"They never learn, do they?"
Closing his eyes as the wind blew through his own grey hair, the king shook his head. "You'd think they'd recognize that they couldn't win against a king who has both brains and brawn" He casually remarked, casting a sly look at his companion. He was rewarded with one raised eyebrow, a look that had survived the years, survived tragedy and happiness.
The pair were interrupted by a small figure rushing up to them and bumping into the king's legs. Looking down, they saw a head of blond hair and shockingly blue eyes looking up at them. The king immediately adopted a sterner expression, unaware he was doing so. The boy's face fell, the disapproval from his father apparent. Without a word to either of them, he bowed stiffly before continuing on his way, this time at a more sedate pace.
"You shouldn't be so harsh on him." Came the murmured words, quiet so the child would not hear.
The king frowned further. "He is the prince of Camelot. He has a lot to live up to."
"Sire, he is seven. I seem to remember you being a great deal more immature at twenty!"
"Times have changed. We are at war with Mercia. He must conduct himself with the dignity and honour the Pendragon name commands."
A hand rested heavy on the king's shoulder. "You cannot blame him."
He sighed. "I know."
*****
The king swallowed heavily as he walked through the corridors of the castle. He knew he had acted wrongly and now…now his closest friend would not forgive him. Could not forgive him. His betrayal had been terrible and he deserved to lose this friendship, but a part of him still cried out at the injustice of it all. Could the other man not see that he had no choice? He had never had a choice, not all those years ago and not now. He was king, and as such he had to be relied upon.
His closest relationship lay in tatters. He found himself unable to reach out to the man who had been his companion for many years now. If he had not been so strict on the matter, then this guilt would not be sweeping over him now. He had allowed himself to be consumed by grief, and yet the king was a proud man and could not go back on his word. As he looked out over the courtyard, he caught sight of his son, so like himself many years ago. He could only hope that the prince would have more sense, would be a fairer, greater king.
The sounds of laughter drifted up towards him, and his lips tilted upwards involuntarily. He focused once more on his son, seeing the ever-present smirk, this time aimed at his manservant. The king had noted the way they acted around one another; the way they would seek one another out for help, the way they would throw their lives away for each other. It reminded him of a time several decades ago, when he would race amongst the trees with his friend, throwing insults at one another. He sighed, the weight of kingship suddenly heavy on his shoulders. He could only hope that his son would have the sense to see what he did not.
As the king turned wearily away from the window, a shout floated across the courtyard, filled with outrage and annoyance but, above all, warmth. "Merlin!"
*****
As I watched 2x07, I just sort of got the idea that Uther and Gaius had once been close. Like Arthur and Merlin. And thus, a bunny was born.
Reviews are much appreciated.