When Merlin returned to Arthur with supper, he found the king in a significantly better mood. The prat had seemed on edge that morning, and there was something about his stance that had Merlin concerned all day. That and the paper.
Had Morgana finally declared war? No, there would be a meeting for that, or he'd at least have told Merlin. This was something else. Maybe one of his many previous fiancées were getting married, and saw fit to invite Arthur. But still, the king wasn't one to get embarrassed easily. What couldn't, or wouldn't, he tell the servant?
Whatever it was, it seemed to resolve itself as Merlin saw no trace of the parchment and Arthur was acting more confident. The warlock would place a few wards anyway. Could never be too careful, especially against something unknown.
Or maybe it really was just Mithian getting married.
"Well, Merlin," His voice was practically cheerful. The servant in question suppressed a shudder. "I've decided that I'm going to keep you busy every day this month to teach you a lesson."
Arthur's arms were crossed in that smug way. Merlin didn't bother suppressing the groan.
"What lesson could that possibly teach me? Hard work? Character?"
"To stay out of taverns."
"But I never-"
"No excuses Merlin. You never know what trouble you'll find there, especially if you're drunk. And besides, I need a manservant. If I wanted a hungover idiot, I'd ask Gwaine to fill the job. Now go home, and if I find out you've gone to the tavern again, you'll be in the stocks for a week."
Wide eyed at the sudden, and very odd, outburst, Merlin found himself pushed out of the room and a door slammed in his face.
"Gaius?"
"Yes, my boy?"
"Never, ever tell Arthur I've gone to the tavern again. I don't care what else you can come up with, I don't. Just not the tavern."
"I haven't used that excuse in a while, why bring it up now?"
"Because Arthur is convinced I'm there during every second of my free time, and yes I know, if he knew where I really was I'd be dead. But still, he went off on this rant and apparently I'm going to be working twice as much since he's 'teaching me a lesson.'"
The old man huffed, but commiserated with his nephew all the same. Arthur would forget by the end of the week. It was probably just another excuse to work his servant harder than usual.
By the end of the month, Merlin felt like he could barely walk.
Arthur had gotten in some self-righteous mood. Merlin would've lamented if it hadn't seemed like the king was trying to fend off some embarrassed guilt he'd suddenly acquired. Another month of this, and the young man didn't think he'd come out sane.
"Alright, you prat, what has gotten into you?" Hands rested on hips as the servant cornered the master.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't think you do either, would the stocks help?" Pulling the stocks card before calling him an idiot was bad- and so early in the banter! He watched as Arthur danced around the room, pretending to look over papers and appear busy. Merlin knew better than that.
"You've been in a sour mood all month. I've been working left and right all day every day, you'd think you were avoiding me! I've mucked out the stables so many times, I don't think a single stable hand has cleaned up so much horse shit in their careers as I have in the past thirty days, so fess up."
"There's nothing to confess." It sounded weak, so much so that Merlin was taken aback. At Merlin's ever questioning look, Arthur continued with fake bravado, "I'm the king, I don't have to answer to you."
Merlin knew a dismissal when he heard one, but apparently he hadn't realized the depths of the king's ire at the moment. It seemed Arthur was as tightly wound as a spring, ready to burst and lash out at any second. Something was happening, and Merlin didn't like it. An enchantment maybe? But Arthur was still himself, even if he was angry. Nothing was too out of place, there just wasn't a logical reason behind the mood, except…
Merlin wondered where that small paper had gone, the inkling of suspicion back.
As for Arthur, well he hadn't been able to take his mind off the spell. Even when it had failed, that small feeling of disappointment was enough for him to go back and try it again. And again, the spell failed, but Arthur caught his reflection in the mirror this time, the telltale flash of gold in eyes that should never have had it. It was addicting.
So this is why magic is evil. It's too damn interesting to stop.
And stop he couldn't. Every week, he tried the spell again at least three times. The forth week, he managed to light the fire. He felt, well he felt something that's for sure. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a familiar warmth, like a furnace in his chest. It didn't feel new, but rather like he had just rediscovered what was already there.
The fire had only stayed lit for a minute or so, before it snuffed out of existence. Arthur had to sit down from the exhaustion of it. It was like when he first swung a sword: only a few hits before his arms caved from the pressure. Magic was an unused power, a muscle in atrophy, and here was the king of Camelot flexing the very illegal practice. When would the Pendragons stop being hypocrites?
Ah, the other thing the king couldn't get out of his head: the law. Under the law, Arthur should call this an enchantment and find the druid who had given him this temptation, should murder the ones trying to show him the truth. But Arthur was not his father, and now he could not even follow his own rules. Why then should the people of Camelot be expected to follow them, let alone die as a consequence of failure to adhere?
It would be a slow process, but Arthur wouldn't let the unjust rule stand. That, and he wanted to find a new spell to practice. If every magic user was terrified that they'd die if he even looked their way, who then was going to teach him?
AN: I had written the first chapter of this a while ago, but apparently posting it has set off a hopping plot bunny, and I'm following it all the way down the hole. That, and I had gotten a review within a minute of posting it. Yay motivation!
