Chapter I: Repercussions

Once, he had been… not quite ordinary, but anonymous. There was a separateness to the magical and mundane parts of his life, and the world at large had no idea who and what he was. They hadn't known that in a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rested upon the shoulders of this young man. His name… Merlin.

But now they did.

"I'll probably be back within a week, ten days, maximum," Merlin told his mother and father, not for the first time. He fidgeted with the straps of the bag that hung at his side and found himself wishing that the Isle of the Blessed, his parents' demesne, had more horses. It wasn't like a horse could get through the Impenetrable Forest better than a human (or, they were reasonably certain, a human/banished-Sidhe hybrid) could, but at least the animal could carry his bag for him.

"We know, Merlin," Hunith answered. "Still, try to check back with us as often as you can, all right?"

"I will, Mother," he promised. "You take care too."

Hunith rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about that. Your father's been a little bit paranoid ever since he learned I'm pregnant."

"Can you blame me?" asked Balinor.

"Yes."

The dragonlord smiled fondly at his wife, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. "Pregnancy is risky, love. Gaius, you tell her."

"I know better than to get involved in this," the old physician retorted, but he was smiling too. "Merlin, I would recommend that you escape while you still can."

The warlock laughed softly, spoke the words to the teleportation spell: "Bedyrne mec. Astýre mec þanonweard!" A whirlwind brushed up the dust around him, rippled across his deep blue cloak. When the wind died down, he was gone.

Merlin stood on the edge of a forest. The plain behind him was bright, filled with sunlight that scorched the barren dirt. The woodland before him was a labyrinth of green shadows and twisting tree-trunks, as dark as evening and as still as the grave.

"Queen Mab?" Merlin called. He didn't really think that this would work, but he'd promised his worried family that he'd at least try to talk with Mab before actually entering the Impenetrable Forest. "I seek an audience."

No response.

"We made a deal when Cornelius Sigan tried to bring me to the Dark Tower," Merlin continued, fingers drumming on his staff. "I know that I agreed to do something for you, but I think that the magic he used affected my memory. I can't recall what I promised."

The leaves rustled. A few fingers of sunlight crept into the shadowy underbrush before being forced once again into retreat.

The warlock huffed. Well, he'd tried.

Staff in hand, Merlin stepped into the Impenetrable Forest.


Arthur had known that this day was coming for a long time. Hell, he'd known it was coming since before he condemned himself by wielding Excalibur against Sigan's gargoyle army. If anything, he was surprised that it had taken so long for Uther Pendragon, so notorious for his swift punishment of anything even vaguely magical, to take action.

That didn't make him any less nervous, though.

He tried not to show it. Face blank, shoulders square, back straight, hands loose and neat at his sides. If it was taking him far too much effort to not curl his fingers into fists and let his hackles rise, well, that was nobody's business but his own.

The room was empty save for him and his father. It was probably the first time they'd been alone together since before he'd left for Tintagel. It should have been warm and pleasant, but the air was thick with tension like humidity before a storm.

Arthur didn't like it, but he remained still. He needed to see what his father would do.

Prince and king watched each other for long moments. The only sound in the room was their quiet breathing and the occasional muffled noise from outside.

Finally Uther spoke. "I suppose I ought to ask for an explanation."

"I did," Arthur told him, "what needed to be done." We all did, he thought but didn't say. No need to remind the king that he wasn't the only man to pick up an enchanted sword that night.

Uther's lips thinned. "What needed to be done? Tell me, Arthur: who told you what needed to be done?"

"No one, Father. I could see it for myself."

The king sneered but remained silent. His hard gaze practically commanded Arthur to continue.

Arthur obliged. "Cornelius Sigan had a history of using overwhelming force, most notably with the Knights of Medhir. He liked to ensure that he could attack his enemies in ways they were completely incapable of countering. To ensure the survival of the citadel and all its inhabitants, I needed a surprise of my own. Excalibur."

Just saying the sword's name made him miss it more. It had been confiscated almost immediately after Sigan's defeat, hidden away in some hastily improvised weapons vault deep within Lord Leodegrance's keep and guarded by four men every hour of the day.

Merlin had still managed to steal it, though he'd left the swords of the Knights of Medhir behind. The cheeky little blighter had also left a note informing 'any and all concerned parties' that he had unspecified 'plans' to keep the sword safe. Considering that Merlin's last attempt to safeguard the blade had resulted in him throwing it into a nausea-inducing enchanted fairy lake haunted by a woman who had once tried to kill him, Arthur shuddered to think of where his sword might be now.

Arthur met his father's eyes, fists curling with defiance. "And I was right. Until Tom the blacksmith arrived with those extra hammers, nothing except enchanted steel stood any chance against Sigan's gargoyle army."

"We had hammers of our own—"

"Which Sigan knew about. If you recall, Father, the armory was his first target. Nobody could access our store of blunt weapons, so the guards were forced to fight with standard-issue swords."

"Perhaps if your sorcerer had had the decency to warn us of his kinsman's intentions, we would have been able to hold the armory."

"Actually, Merlin did inform me that the Raven's Key had been stolen when he visited me in my cell that night."

Uther jerked, eyes bulging. "What?"

That was right, he hadn't known about that. "Merlin came to visit me in my cell that night," Arthur repeated. "He wanted me to know that he wasn't under Sigan's control and that we should worry about the Raven's Key. I was going to tell you in the morning, but we were attacked before I could manage it. Merlin escorted me back to my room to retrieve Excalibur, at which point we went our separate ways. Then so much happened that I forgot to tell you."

"You forgot to tell me that a sorcerer broke into our dungeons to speak with you?!"

"It was a long night," Arthur deadpanned.

Uther reddened, fingers spasming into fists. He looked ready to explode, and it clearly cost him to hold his temper. "Yes, it was. Sorcerers fighting in the citadel, destroying my castle, murdering my people."

One caused the damage, Arthur could have said. The others fought against him. But if reports from the other eyewitnesses hadn't convinced his father, nothing he could say would change the king's mind. He didn't even bother pointing out that technically, Merlin and Sigan were both warlocks. His father didn't care.

Not that long ago, Arthur wouldn't have either. He wouldn't have known that there was a difference.

"Report," the king commanded. "Tell me what you did and what the hell you were thinking."

The prince obeyed. He started with Merlin's visit in his cell and ended when the gargoyle army stopped dead in its tracks. If his report focused more on his own thought processes than on the fact that five other fighters had wielded enchanted steel and that spellbinders had used magic to fling gargoyles into each other, well. He was just following orders.

The hardest part was not going into a rant about Merlin's deranged (but also, sadly, intelligent, though he was loathe to admit it. Kilgharrah had probably saved several lives) decision to summon his talking dragon.

His thoughts were logical, his actions necessary, but Arthur knew that Uther wouldn't see it that way. He gloomily wondered if he'd end up in another dungeon and how long he'd stay. Maybe he could break out and wander the kingdom as a knight-errant for awhile, except he'd never actually do that. Princes had responsibilities, and he had more than most. He was the only person who stood a chance of curbing some of his father's more… excessive ideas.

The king was silent for a long time after Arthur's report was over. Finally he gave a sharp nod, more to himself than to his son. He'd probably finalized his decision.

A thin sheen of sweat gathered on Arthur's brow. Uther would never kill his heir, but there were other ways to punish him.

(And how unjust was that, that he was being punished for saving the city?)

"You are to make for Gawant immediately."

Arthur blinked, pulling up short. He didn't know what he'd expected—probably to be sent to fight against Magance—but this wasn't it. "Gawant, Father?"

"Yes. Due to those damn sorcerers destroying everything, Camelot cannot host the meeting of the Five Kingdoms this year. King Godwyn has agreed that our kingdoms should switch, and all five of us have decided that the meeting should be delayed until the beginning of September."

That was good, because the meeting was supposed to be next week. In the chaos of reconstruction, Arthur had almost completely forgotten about it.

"You will serve as an ambassador to Gawant. Make certain to stay on good terms with them, but do not lead on Princess Elena. Godwyn has long assumed that the two of you would marry one day. Part of your job is to forge an alliance that will not be damaged when you marry another."

"You've… chosen my wife, then?" Arthur squeaked. Guinevere's face flitted through his mind. Somehow, he rather doubted that she was the one Uther had decided on.

There was something a little bit cruel in the king's smile. It was not at all encouraging. All he said was, "Negotiations are underway."

"Ah. With whom are you negotiating?"

Uther made a negligent waving gesture. "Someone I can trust."

Arthur grimaced but didn't say anything. No need to pick a fight unnecessarily. "I see. When would you like me to depart?"

"Tomorrow. I've already made arrangements."

In other words, he wanted Arthur gone as quickly as possible. He must be planning something that he knew his son would object to.

"…Of course. By your leave, Father."

Uther nodded, so Arthur bowed and backed out of the room.

As soon as he'd turned the first corner, Arthur nearly doubled his pace. "Where is the Lady Morgana?" he asked the first servant he encountered. With Alator in hiding and Merlin banished, she was the only spellbinder he knew how to contact in the citadel, and he knew that she fully intended to quietly counter Uther's inevitable anti-sorcery campaigns.

Not to mention, he'd likely find Guinevere with her lady.

"I'm not certain, sire," the woman replied. "I think she might be requisitioning herbs for Mistress Gwen."

Guinevere wasn't a healer nor even a healer's apprentice, but she'd spent enough time around Gaius to have picked up a few things. She knew how to clean wounds and make certain that bones were healing right, which made her a valuable asset after the earthquake/attack/fires. It also, Arthur worried, made her a target. Healers were frequently suspected to be practitioners of magic, which was why Camelot had so few of them. It didn't help that Guinevere was known to be a friend of Merlin the warlock and Gaius the probably-not-actually-reformed sorcerer. Still, Guinevere had been adamant about doing everything she could to help, and she'd consequently ended up in charge of the city's medical team.

Nodding his thanks to the servant, Arthur continued on to the tent in the marketplace that served as Guinevere's clinic. If Morgana was searching for herbs, someone here would be able to tell him more.

It turned out that the servant was wrong. Both women were in the tent. Guinevere's sleeves were rolled up as she changed a child's bandages, and Morgana was organizing several herbs along the construction's single table.

Arthur watched them for a moment in silence, a faint smile on his face. Then the patient's mother noticed him, recognized him, and dropped into a clumsy curtsy. Guinevere's quick bob was significantly more graceful. Morgana didn't bother. She simply nodded her acknowledgement.

"When you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you," Arthur told them. He smiled at the wide-eyed little child.

"Kyla, could you come here, please?" Guinevere called. She finished tying the new bandage. "There you go. Does that feel better?"

The boy nodded shyly, his gaze still fixated on his prince.

"Don't worry," Morgana assured him, "Arthur doesn't bite."

"Not citizens of Camelot, at any rate," Arthur joked.

The child flushed.

"You two," Guinevere chided, but she was smiling. To the child's mother, she said, "He looks to be healing nicely. I think that we can remove the bandages entirely tomorrow."

"Thank you, Mistress Gwen."

"You're very welcome, Hilda."

Another, older woman, presumably Kyla, ducked inside. "Can you take over for me for a few minutes?" Guinevere asked her.

"Of course."

Soon enough, the tent was clear except for them. Something must have shown in Arthur's face, because the women were visibly worried.

"What's going on?" Guinevere asked.

Arthur did his best to relay the story dispassionately. He was sorely tempted to leave out the bit about the marriage scheme, but they needed to know about that too.

"The fact that Uther's sending you away means that he's going to act soon," Morgana muttered. She huffed. "I'd hoped he would wait a bit longer than a week, fix up the citadel more before he did anything."

"Dad's been telling me about the Day of Pyres," Gwen told them quietly. "I haven't seen any evidence of a list, but that probably doesn't mean anything."

The others hadn't either, but it wasn't like they'd been spending a lot of time around Uther. Arthur had been actively avoiding him. Also, it wasn't like Uther had to make the list himself. He could have delegated it to any number of people.

"We'll need to spread the word," Arthur decided. "Leon and the others can help."

"Not for long," Morgana told him. "They're being sent to the front tomorrow." A muscle jumped in her jaw, and there was a hard edge to her voice. "Uther wants them on the front lines."

"He specifically ordered all five—"

"By name, even. Direct orders." Morgana's nostrils flared. "They're heroes. He can't kill them directly, so he's trying an indirect route."

With a start, Arthur remembered how Lord Gorlois had died. But—Gorlois and Uther had been friends. Gorlois had been loyal, and he'd been as against sorcery as any man in Camelot despite the fact that his wife had quite a few connections to the Old Religion. Surely Uther had had no reason to have his old friend killed.

At least, Arthur hoped so.

"It won't work," Guinevere said quietly, desperately. "They'll be fine. But. Just in case, would it be possible to contact Merlin or that Alator fellow or, or someone? Maybe even Blaise, though I'm not sure how much a druid could do on the battlefield."

Arthur almost asked who Blaise the druid was before remembering that he was Merlin's tutor who had been living in the woods for the past year or so.

"Merlin would probably be best, but he's off in the Impenetrable Forest right now," Morgana replied.

That was right. They had that odd dream connection.

Arthur sighed. "What is the Impenetrable Forest and what is he doing there?"

"It's the forest around the Dark Tower over in the Perilous Lands," she explained. "Remember, he made some kind of deal with its queen?"

"Right," Arthur sighed. "Why do I have a feeling that fulfilling this promise will take a ridiculously long period of time?"

"…Merlin thinks that it'll take a week at the most, long enough for Uther to cool down a bit more. I think he's laying low in the hope that Uther will be slightly less homicidal that way." Morgana's tone implied that she felt this was a futile hope.

Guinevere grimaced. "I wonder if it would be possible to contact the Isle of the Blessed? For the war, I mean."

"Blaise could," Morgana answered.

"Our best hope is to end the war quickly. Gods, it's so stupid."

Guinevere's brow furrowed. "Does Odin have any daughters?" she asked, suddenly alarmed.

"They're both married already," Arthur assured her. "And even if they weren't, Odin wants this war. He'd never agree to end it with a marriage."

Morgana looked between them and sighed heavily. "Arthur. Gwen. I know that whatever marriage Uther is planning is not going to be a pleasant subject, but we need to at least try to figure out who it is."

"Not Elena," Arthur muttered. "Not Vivian either, thank the gods."

"I think I might have an idea," Guinevere announced, eyes wide. "There's only one king who hates magic more than Uther. Does Sarrum have any daughters?"

"His youngest would be about sixteen or seventeen, I think," Arthur answered, dread curdling in his gut. "What's her name again?"

"Orgeluse," Morgana supplied. "She's sometimes called the Haughty Maiden."

"Of course she is." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course she is."

"You're not marrying her," Morgana informed him.

"Of course not!"

"You're marrying Gwen." She hesitated, chewing her lip a little, then added, "I've Seen it."

Two heads whipped around to gape at her. Guinevere sat down, hard, almost falling onto her chair. "Oh," she said faintly.

"Oh," Arthur agreed. Then, more loudly, "Oh." A grin blossomed on his face.

Morgana smiled slightly, a little bit smug. "We can finish this talk tonight. I'm going to try to get in contact with Blaise. Alone. He hasn't been by today yet. Goodbye." And she was gone before they could say a word.

Guinevere looked up at him, her eyes bright, her smile brighter still.

Their kiss was everything he ever dreamed it would be.


Disclaimer: I do not, have never, and will never own Merlin. This disclaimer applies to the entire fic.

Alternate chapter title: "In Which Arthur is Justifiably Concerned about the State of his Sword (and Several Other Things)"

Next update: January 25. Queen Mab remains unhelpful. King Uther reveals a bit more about his plans.

I found the name Orgeluse by searching for Arthurian female names. (SO MANY Elaines...) She really was called the Haughty Maiden of Logres, which is why I picked her. This Orgeluse is even more of a piece of work than her mythical counterpart, who got a sort of redemption arc and ended up marrying Gawain. In other versions of Gawain's myth, he married other women, so rest assured that he won't end up with the Haughty Maiden in this verse.

Happy New Year!

-Antares