Title: The Way to Mending
Author: Cassis Luna
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur Pendragon/Merlin
Summary: Takes the place of S5E8: The Hollow Queen. Sequel to The Process of Healing.
Arthur rescues Merlin in the Valley of the Fallen Kings after Morgana has poisoned him, but there are more troubles at hand. They seek to unite Camelot and Amata in peace, but Gwen is still under Morgana's spell and Lord Sarrum is either a friend or a murderer.
The Way to Mending
Daegal understands that though he is free from the dungeons, he is still under arrest. The difference is that he has a more comfortable bed and warmer meals, which he is grateful for, but he knows he cannot stay. Who knows when King Arthur will change his mind and decide that he needs to hang for his sins?
As he quietly slips through the door, careful not to wake a snoring Gaius, he recalls Merlin's words from last night.
Morgana almost killed me. Don't get confused.
A traitorous sense of hope wells up inside him, much like how it did when Merlin first uttered them, but he pushes it back down.
He had called Merlin out, and practically led him to his death. He had watched as Morgana poured that vile, black poison through Merlin's lips, and did nothing as she rolled him down a cliff. When he had run to find help, he had thrown the bag of coins away, disgusted at himself, but it still didn't change what he did.
He walks through the halls, not too fast to be suspicious, but fast enough to seem purposeful. He is not familiar with these castle walls and he feels the weight of every minute, like a death sentence. He turns wherever there is an empty corner, because sooner or later, he's bound to see the exit, and then he's going to run –
"Halt!"
He dashes towards the nearest stairwell and runs up, not even daring to look back.
He has always been a quick runner; years of stealing apples to give to his aging mother and father had seen to that. He feels the distance between him and the knights grow, but still, he runs, until he sees an open door. It is another stairwell, and he dashes into it, before closing it as quickly but as quietly as he can.
And then he waits.
It is like waiting for the guillotine to chop his head off. He keeps his eyes shut and doesn't even dare to breathe, heart hammering painfully in his chest. There is a sob wanting to escape, but he covers his mouth and presses his hand, hard, against it.
Soon, there is the sound of thundering footsteps, of armor clanking together, and then… And then they pass, and it is quiet once more.
Daegal slides down the wall, keeping his hand on his lips to stifle his whimpers. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and painful in his chest, but he cannot rest here, not yet.
More sounds from the other side of the door has him scrambling to his feet. He is up the narrow stairwell in an instant, legs moving without thought, and by the time he manages to think about where this stairwell leads, he is already at the end of it.
And at the end of it stands an assassin.
King Arthur's voice ring out from the chamber below. "I welcome this new era of peace between Camelot and Amata, Lord Sarrum."
All senses heightened and adrenaline thrumming in his veins, it takes Daegal just a few seconds to understand.
Below stands King Arthur. And here, in this vantage point and behind a marble column, stands a soldier with foreign clothes and an aimed crossbow.
He is done watching murder.
Once again, his legs are moving before he has even thought of it.
"STOP!"
Lord Sarrum finds an arrow hovering in mid-air, one inch away from his face.
Arthur has stepped back, out of reflex, and shock paints his features. Out of reflex again, he seeks out Merlin, needing to confirm his safety.
Behind him, past his knights and at the side of the room, stand Merlin – pale-faced, wide-eyed, and one hand raised forward.
And then chaos erupts.
Swords are unsheathed all at once, and there are shouts as Queen Guinevere, looking stunned, is escorted outside. Lancelot leads her by the arm and catches Arthur's eye before the door closes and the only form of escape has been blocked.
Above them, in the balcony, there is a frustrated roar and the sickening sound of bone hitting marble.
All heads turn to see Haggar, Amata's strongest warrior, wrestling with a boy half his size.
In a heartbeat, Merlin has his other hand raised.
Haggar is lifted in the air, one hand still gripping the crossbow, and the other scratching at his neck to fight the invisible force cutting off his air supply. Daegal falls to the floor, curling into himself.
"Leon," Arthur snaps, and Leon immediately rushes for the door.
When the door is closed once more, silence reigns in the room. The only sounds that can be heard are the faint echoes of Haggar's pained grunts from the balcony above.
Arthur's voice is deadly and it slices through the air.
"I suggest you choose your next words wisely, Lord Sarrum."
Sarrum shifts his eyes to him, but does not dare to move. The arrow is still pointed between his eyes.
Arthur's gaze is hard. "Once your assassin makes it clear that he means no harm towards the boy, I will let him go."
Sarrum does not break eye-contact as he says, croaking, "Haggar. Arms down."
The crossbow falls noisily to the floor.
Haggar follows soon after.
Merlin flicks his hand and the arrow in front of Sarrum's face is disposed of, abruptly thrown towards the wall to break itself into pieces.
Above, knights in red capes fill the balcony. Haggar is pinned to the floor, and Daegal is carried away.
Merlin finds some of the tension ease away from his shoulders. That is one less thing to worry about now. He can focus completely on keeping Arthur safe.
King Arthur, who is standing tall and regal in his armor and red cape, with a line of knights behind him, swords out and ready for battle.
His next words ring and echo in the room, sharp as a blade.
"Shall I take this as your declaration of war, Lord Sarrum?"
Sarrum tries on a smile, but it is grim and tense. "A wise man knows when it is a losing battle."
He waves a hand towards his soldiers, and it takes a while, but his soldiers slowly and warily sheath their swords back in. The swords of Camelot's knights remain unsheathed.
Arthur's voice is still unforgiving. "I had hoped you had known that when you first plotted this."
The edges of Sarrum's lips quirk further up. "I had a persuasive little devil whispering in my ear."
Excalibur is out in an instant, and Sarrum finds himself at the end of a blade for the second time that day. His smile withers away.
"Do not speak of my queen in that manner."
It is a testament to the training of the knights of Camelot that none of them bristle at the sudden revelation.
Nervously, Sarrum licks his lips and swallows to wet his suddenly dry throat. "Ah, so you've known?"
"I had suspicions," Arthur says coolly. He sheathes Excalibur back in. "She is under Morgana's spell, one that we hope to unravel once peace has been signed."
He tilts his head meaningfully towards the parchment on the table, not once taking his gaze away.
Sarrum laughs shakily at his tenacity. "You still wish to make peace? I had thought executions were Camelot's way of dealing with things."
"Do not be so eager to die, Lord Sarrum," Arthur says, glaring at his mention of his father's reign. "And executing you will not help either of us in uniting this land. I would like to think that none of us want our people to suffer in war and bloodshed. After all, you had accepted my invitation to talk peace. Had Morgana not interfered, I believe things would have gone smoothly."
He levels Sarrum with a stare and a challenge. "Am I mistaken?"
And though there are no more blades pointed at him, Sarrum feels as if he is still being held at swordpoint. He swallows. "How sure are you that there is Morgana's hand in this? That your queen is not acting of her own accord?"
The question is but a weak deflection of the actual issue at hand as well as an attempt to hit where it hurts. Arthur sees through it completely.
"As sure as I am that you have acted your part in Morgana's plan perfectly."
Sarrum's jaw shuts tight, and Arthur can see the anger simmering in his eyes.
"I will make peace, Arthur Pendragon," Sarrum all but spits out. "But I ask you, you would still choose to align yourself with sorcery even after losing your queen to it?"
"She is not lost," Arthur replies immediately, leveling his own glare at him. "And it is in the wielder of magic, much like how it is in the wielder of the sword. There is the sorceress that has beguiled my queen."
Here, Arthur steps aside for Sarrum to get a full view of Merlin. "And there is the sorcerer that has saved your life, even after you have attempted to take mine."
Sarrum whips his head to stare at Merlin.
A tall, gangly servant, not hesitating to meet the King of Amata's eyes head on.
Sarrum is a wise man. And as he said, a wise man knows when it is a losing battle. A part of him is impressed, at the king that Arthur Pendragon has become, his strong will, and at the sorcerer that the young king keeps with him at all times.
But he does not consider himself to have lost and come so low that he is about to acknowledge owing a servant his life.
He is the first to look away.
He grabs the forgotten quill on the table and looks at Arthur instead.
"I do not agree with your kingdom's acceptance of magic, but I believe we can make peace despite it. From henceforth, consider Amata an ally of Camelot."
When Sarrum finally leaves with his retinue, it is like the whole castle breathes a sigh of relief. Servants move more lightly, knights and guards are less tense, and Merlin feels as if a huge thorn has been pricked from his side.
Peace has been signed. Arthur is still safe.
There is only one matter left to attend to, but, Merlin thinks grimly, it is the most difficult one.
He is seated on the staircase leading to Gaius' bookshelves, an open tome on his lap. Below, seated at the dining table are Arthur, Gaius, and Lancelot. Daegal is in his old room, sleeping peacefully after having been given a tincture to numb the pain on his head.
Arthur is asking, "How did you escape her?"
"I said I needed to report to you," Lancelot says, a look of misery on his face. "She must have drugged me last night. She gave me some water, but it tasted… It tasted sweet, and before I knew it, it was already mid-morning. I thought I must have just dreamed it…"
He trails off, closing his eyes and sighing. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.
Arthur glances up at the stairwell, where Merlin also has a hand buried in his hair. "How does it fare, Merlin?"
Merlin shakes his head with a sigh and flips a page. "I just… If I just had an idea where to start looking…"
Silence, thick and somber, settles in the room at that admission. Lancelot's shoulders sag lower.
And then, Gaius decides to share the fearsome thought that has been nagging at his mind for a while now. He speaks, careful with his words, "When I was young, I heard talk of an ancient ritual of the Old Religion called the Teine Diaga."
At once, Merlin perks up and leans against the railing of the staircase. "Teine Diaga?"
Arthur and Lancelot both lean forward as well, but there is a dark shadow on Gaius' face.
"The Sacred Fire. The ritual used the mandrake root to bring unimaginable terror to the victim. Their screams could be heard twenty leagues away." Gaius pauses, looking over at Lancelot, whose face is slowly losing its color. "When it was finally over, their will was no longer their own. They were slaves of the High Priestesses for all eternity."
It is with great effort when Lancelot unlocks his jaw to ask roughly, "And who performed this ritual?"
Gaius looks at him apologetically. "I've told you all I know. Such mysteries were revealed only to a handful of female initiates. As a boy, I was only privy to rumors."
Lancelot leans forward and says desperately, "There must be someone who can help."
Here, Gaius turns his gaze to Arthur. "I can think of only two people who truly know the old ways. One is Morgana Pendragon."
Arthur presses his lips tightly together.
And then Gaius looks at Merlin. "The other is the Dochraid."
Arthur shifts his gaze between the two of them and frowns. He does not know who this Dochraid is but finds that he immediately does not want to meet them. Or Merlin to meet them, especially when Gaius utters his next words.
"But be warned, Merlin. The Dochraid cannot be trusted. She must never know your true identity."
And even after hearing that, Merlin – the fool – asks, "Where can I find her?"
"We," Arthur corrects, raising an eyebrow at Merlin that dares him to challenge it.
Merlin sends him a sheepish smile in reply.
"Legends say that she dwells in a cave past the Valley of the Fallen Kings, near the Isle of the Blessed," Gaius says.
"I will go," Lancelot announces firmly. He looks at Arthur, awaiting orders. "Your Majesty."
His face falls when Arthur shakes his head slowly.
"Guinevere needs you here," Arthur says softly. There is sympathy in his eyes as he continues, "The Isle of the Blessed is a two-day ride. We need to stop her from meeting up with Morgana as well."
"But…" Lancelot trails off, growling in frustration. "I cannot sit here and watch you and Merlin put yourselves in danger. And… Arthur…" Here, he looks up, and there is no pretense of a knight talking to his king anymore. Here is a man, devastated and on the brink of losing the love of his life. "She's my wife."
Arthur is silent after that, anguish painting his features as he hurts for his friend.
Merlin can actually pinpoint the exact moment that Arthur is about to give in, and he cuts him off, speaking with a soft voice, "We will get her back, Lancelot. She's also our friend. Let us help you."
There is a few more moments of heavy silence, before Lancelot breaks it with a defeated sigh. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, there is a firm resolve on his face. He looks at the three of them and nods, giving them a small but grateful smile.
"I will also do what I can. Thank you."
Daegal wakes up in a soft, warm bed. Having lived in poverty, that in itself is already unbelievable, but waking up to the King of Camelot by your bedside is something else entirely.
Through the haze of sleep, he wonders if he's dreaming.
"You, my friend," King Arthur starts, smiling gently. "Have just saved my life."
And then Daegal realizes that he's not dreaming, King Arthur really is by his bedside, and he has been staring dumbly with his mouth open for the past ten seconds. He is completely awake in an instant, and he scrambles backward, tries to get out of bed to curtsy or fall to his knees or something, but a hand falls on his shoulder and keeps his arse right on the mattress.
He whips his head around to the other side of the bed, and sees Merlin grinning at him with an amused expression.
Merlin. Merlin who he had betrayed, but who had tried to comfort him last night and who is still here, standing beside him like a… like a friend.
He glances at Arthur, wide-eyed, and then back to Merlin. He thinks back to the past few days, all the things he did, the guilt he's carried, and… His eyes start to water. "Did… Did I do something good?" he asks, and it's barely a whisper, but Merlin hears it anyway.
His expression softens and the hand on Daegal's shoulder tightens.
"Yeah. Yeah, you have."
And a shudder of relief passes through Daegal then, because finally. Finally. He closes his eyes and tries to stop his tears, because it seems that all he's been doing in front of them is cry.
But then King Arthur goes and says, "What do you say about a position in the royal household?"
And it's such a shocking question that tears fall down his cheeks as he releases a short, startled laugh. Him? Working in the castle? It's unbelievable. Too good to be true. He could finally give his parents some proper suppers. New clothes.
"Uhm," he chuckles, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. His fingers are shaking. "Well, I'll have to ask my mother first."
King Arthur grins brightly. "Of course. You'll also have to tell me where I can send them an invitation to the feast we'll be holding in your honor."
Daegal looks at him in bewilderment, eyes boggling. "A... A feast? In my honor?"
His parents would be… Well, they would be ecstatic, but then he has no idea how explaining things to them would fare.
"You saved my life, Daegal," King Arthur says, the grin not leaving his face. "Not just mine, but also Merlin's, and for that, I am greatly indebted to you."
"I…" Daegal stammers out, cheeks coloring. "No. It was nothing. I just… I just wanted to make up for what I did to Merlin."
He looks at Merlin again, uncertain, but Merlin is sending him a grin of his own.
"And I believe you have accomplished that and more," King Arthur says.
And for the first time, Daegal finds that he finally believes Merlin's words.
"Morgana almost killed me. Don't get confused. In fact, I daresay you even saved my life."
He didn't hurt anyone. He did something good.
He's crying again, sniffling, but still, he tries to convey his gratitude.
"Thank you… Your Majesty, thank you."
As they enter back into the comfort of the king's chambers, Arthur starts to remove his armor.
In an instant, Merlin is by his side, helping him with his chest plate, and it is here that Arthur sighs exasperatedly and says, "Alright, you've been looking more constipated than usual, Merlin. Spit it out."
Not at all surprised at having been found out, Merlin smiles sheepishly. He starts to work on Arthur's leg braces, just so he could kneel and look down and avoid Arthur's eyes. "Err, well, I've been thinking. Hmm. How do you feel about relaxing here in Camelot while I just go off and –"
"Meet this Dochraid, who is commendably knowledgeable about torture rituals of the Old Religion?" Arthur's tone is dry and not amused. "Denied."
Merlin winces at having been rejected from the get-go. He gathers both of Arthur's leg braces in his arms and stands up, frowning. "Well, I'm just not very comfortable with the King of Camelot leaving the safety of his kingdom with just his manservant."
"Who is also the most powerful sorcerer alive," Arthur says obligingly.
Merlin's nose scrunches up. "I mean, we don't know that…"
Arthur rolls his eyes. "And I'm also not very comfortable with my lover dallying off into danger. Alone." He glares. "Especially after you almost…" he trails off, frustrated.
And Merlin continues the farce, but the soft, rather sappy smile on his face already tells Arthur that he has won. "You just said that I'm the most powerful sorcerer alive. Doesn't that count for something?"
"And you just said that we don't know that."
Merlin makes a show of sighing exasperatedly. "I can't decide whether I had a more difficult time saving your hide before you knew about my magic or after."
"Admit it," Arthur snorts. "You like being able to use magic to conjure my bath instead of taking the trips up and down the castle."
They both turn to the tub in the middle of the room, which had floated from its hiding place when they entered and had since then been slowly filling itself with warm water.
"Mmm. Guilty," Merlin says with a cheeky grin, obviously not guilty at all.
Arthur shakes his head at him in fond exasperation. He leans forward and steals himself a small, slow kiss. "We'll take a few men. Say that we're on a hunt to celebrate the signing of peace with Amata."
"...Alright."
Arthur smiles, pleased. "Tomorrow."
Merlin sighs and rolls his eyes, but there is a mirroring smile on his face. "Tomorrow."
Merlin wakes, pleasantly, to fingers gently brushing through his hair and the warmth of Arthur's bare skin against his cheek. He hums softly, kissing what his lips can reach.
The fingers stop in surprise at the knowledge that he is awake, before they resume again, with more purpose now.
"I'm sorry. I must have woken you," Arthur murmurs from his position above.
He shifts, slides his body down the bed and slips an arm beneath Merlin's head.
Merlin's face is pressed against Arthur's neck now, and he kisses that gently too.
The heaviness in his eyes and the darkness of the room tell him that it is still the middle of the night, probably just a few hours since he fell asleep. He frowns, pulling back to search for Arthur's eyes in the dark. "Having a hard time sleeping?"
The look of worry on his face has Arthur moving forward, capturing his lips. Immediately, Merlin surrenders beneath him, mouth welcoming Arthur's tongue with a pleased sigh.
Arthur licks at his lower lip, before sucking on it as he pulls away.
Merlin fights the urge to chase him. He reaches a hand up instead, cupping Arthur's cheek. "What's wrong?"
"It's been difficult," Arthur admits, closing his eyes. He leans towards Merlin's touch, turns his head, and kisses Merlin's palm. "There is a fear in me to wake up and find you gone again. When I saw you in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Merlin…"
His voice, desperate and breaking, trails off, and Merlin hurts to hear it, as much as he is flooded with love for this man in front of him.
He cannot help the smile on his face then, and the feelings that make his cheeks warm and his chest close to bursting.
Merlin knows that their troubles are far from over. Tomorrow, they will ride to meet the Dochraid and seek for ways to remove the spell on Guinevere's soul. Along the way, there are many more things that they need to mend, but here, he can start.
"I love you, Arthur," he murmurs happily, kissing Arthur again. He reverses their positions, inching upwards and arranging their limbs so that it is his arm under Arthur's head and Arthur's nose in the crook of his neck. He swings his other arm around Arthur's shoulders and pulls him close, and promises fervently, "Even the gods cannot keep me away from you."
It is a wild promise, but Merlin considers it his victory when Arthur chuckles and relaxes in his arms.
He cards his fingers through Arthur's hair, slowly, much like how Arthur had done it earlier.
"Sleep. Let me watch over you this time."
end