There were children laughing.
The merry sound echoed down the hall, bright as the summer sun that filtered through the gallery windows above. Arthur followed the trail of sound until he found a slender figure dressed in rich, red velvet. Guinevere leaned against the railing, watching whatever tableau played out below. Arthur wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of lavender and her.
She leaned against him, one soft hand curving around his neck, taking pleasure in the quiet of the moment. "It's funny," Guinevere whispered after a while. "Everyone thought that after magic was legal again, there would be fire raining down from the skies and all sorts of horrid fates befalling us. But instead of all that, we got butterflies."
"Butterflies?"
"Yes. Butterflies." Guinevere smiled and gestured to the bottom of the stairs where the children's laughter had bubbled up from. Two girls played there- servants' children, perhaps seven years old. They were chasing butterflies painted such a brilliant blue it hardly seemed natural.
And with good reason. Merlin perched on the second step, his hands cupped in front of him, giving the girls an elfin smile as they skipped back to him when the butterflies shimmered into nothing. Their cheerful pleas rose up to the royal couple, though Merlin's replies were too soft to follow. He gave in, though, flinging his hands open in an explosion of blue butterflies.
Arthur grinned at the girls' delighted squeals as they ran about, jumping up to catch the butterflies that flitted just outside their reach.
"I wish everyone could see that side of magic. Perhaps people would fear it less if they saw this," Guinevere said.
"Maybe," Arthur shrugged and pulled Guinevere closer. "Or maybe they've seen too much of the kind of magic Morgana has to offer to ever really trust it again."
"Perhaps." Guinevere sighed. Her hand dropped from his neck to rest on his arm at her waist. "I wish you were wrong, though, if only for Merlin's sake. He seems so far away from us, sometimes, like he's fading away. Like one day he'll walk out into the twilight and never return."
"You make him sound like a character in one of Gaius's nursery stories," Arthur said as he kissed her on the cheek. "Merlin would never leave us. Not forever. If he tried, we'd end up finding him in a bog somewhere, all covered in mud. We'd have to bring him back and dunk him in a horse trough a dozen times to get him clean again." He got the laugh he wanted, joining in with his own a moment later.
Merlin looked up at them, squinting against the sunlight until he realized who it was. Though several weeks had passed since his vision had begun to return, it still wasn't as clear as it had been before. Gaius assured them all it would just be a matter of time, that they just needed to be patient. Arthur knew Merlin was tired of being patient.
"That's all for now," he told the girls, brushing away their disappointed pleas. "The butterflies have to go home sometime, and you have lessons to attend. Go on now." He waved them off, waiting until they were out of sight before brushing himself off and jogging up the stairs to meet Arthur and Guinevere. "Did you want something?"
"No." Arthur shook his head and took a moment to study the sorcerer. The calm summer had been good to Merlin, giving him the time and space to rest and recover. The gauntness had left his face, along with most of the hollow-eyed despair that had haunted him since winter, though, Arthur knew it hadn't left him completely. He'd seen the memories of Blackheath surfacing in his eyes to try to drag him back into the depths. In spite of that, the bright smile had found its way back onto Merlin's face.
"I thought you were going out into the woods for whatever it is you do out in the woods when you go… out in the woods." Arthur waved a hand vaguely westward.
Merlin stared at him a moment, blinked, then looked at Guinevere. "It's sometimes hard to believe that battle plans and rulings come from that mouth, isn't it?"
Arthur scowled and batted at Merlin's head.
The sorcerer dodged, laughing. Guinevere hid her own smile behind a hand. "I'll be leaving at dusk," Merlin said. "It'll be a good night for travel, with the moon being near to full. Good weather, too, and quiet."
When Merlin had first come to Arthur about his plans for Lughnasadh, Arthur had tried to insist on sending one of the knights along but Merlin had refused. Though they were now free to come and go and live as they saw fit, the Druids were still skittish around the knights of Camelot. "I can't just bring someone into their camp that many of the Druids still view as an enemy. Not on a night like this. Lughnasadh is sacred. It'd be like inviting King Hywel to your wedding- an ally, but not someone you want around you at a feast." So in this, Merlin got his way. Despite his imperfect eyesight and the dismal view much of the populace still had of him, Merlin would be traveling alone.
Though, Arthur had to admit, his plan to travel by night was sound enough. Few people would be out to harass him, and after walking in darkness for half a year, Merlin was certainly capable of navigating a moonlit forest.
"Given that I'm not interested in having this argument again, I'm going to let you win this one," Arthur said. Merlin beamed. "When are you coming back, then?"
"Twilight, two days from now. Unless you can't bear the thought of my being gone that long."
"I think I'll be quite all right without your hovering, thank you very much." Arthur offered Guinevere his arm, and they turned to go back to the great hall. Merlin fell into step a pace behind them. They walked in silence for a while, letting the bustling servants, nobles, and other palace officials pass them by, nodding to acknowledge their bows and curtseys and otherwise not bothering to keep anyone from whatever task they were in the midst of. If any of the nobles had some business to take to the King, they didn't bother with it in the hallway. It wouldn't do, in such an informal setting. Not with servants milling about. Or with Merlin present.
Arthur didn't miss the sidelong glances they directed at the sorcerer, and while he wasn't about to stop and look back he was certain Merlin hadn't missed them, either. Though magic had been legal since the first days of spring, few magic users had poked their heads out of the security of the silence and invisibility they'd built around themselves since The Purge. But then, Arthur had to admit, old habits died slowly. After a generation of persecution, it shouldn't come as a surprise that magic users- no matter what sorts of magic they practiced- would be slow in coming around to the notion that they were truly free.
The people weren't all keen on the idea, either, though Arthur had heard of only a few instances where a sorcerer- or a suspected sorcerer- had been attacked. They hadn't been killed, but by all accounts the victims promptly disappeared. Fled to a friendlier climate.
"Sire." Leon's voice dragged Arthur's wandering thoughts back to the present. The blond knight's expression was even, betraying nothing of his thoughts. He held a rolled parchment loosely in one hand.
"Leon." Arthur nodded at him, directing him into the mostly empty Great Hall. "Leave us, please," he announced to the room, waiting until the stragglers had left and the doors had closed behind them before dropping into his chair at the head of the table. Guinevere took her place more gracefully, as did Leon. Merlin resumed his familiar role as a servant, pouring whatever drink it was from the pitcher on the table. Arthur hoped it was wine. Whatever Leon's news was, it was bad enough to keep the normally good-humoured knight's expression shuttered.
It was water in the pitcher. Arthur scrunched his nose at it and set the cup down. "Well?"
Leon unrolled the parchment and pressed it as flat as it would go. The edges still curled up, but it was legible. "We received word from the border with Rheged. It seems King Urien has sent a sizeable force into the mountains to test our defenses there. There have been a number of minor skirmishes in the past couple of weeks- nothing that would normally be of concern, except-"
"This is the same course of action the Sarrum took last year, before he and Morgana took Blackheath." Arthur skimmed over the report and slid it over to Guinevere. "Have there been reports of anything… strange?" He glanced up at Merlin before looking back to Leon. Merlin's last vision hadn't happened so long ago that it had faded in Arthur's memory.
"You mean magical?" Leon shook his head. "None so far. The attacks have been what you'd expect from armed men. There are no reports of Morgana or any of her men. So far."
Arthur tapped a finger on the table, his gaze unfocused as he considered the possibilities. After Blackheath, Leon had predicted that the neighboring kings would be unlikely to attack, seeing as how forces from Camelot had retaken two major fortresses- Blackheath and Tintagel- within the same few weeks in the middle of winter. Thus far, his prediction had come true; none of the other kingdoms had made noises about testing Camelot's defenses, and even Morgana had disappeared without a trace. Arthur shook his head and scowled. Such peace never lasted for long. "Merlin?"
"Hm?" It looked like Arthur had shaken the sorcerer out of his own wandering thoughts.
"Have you been able to find Morgana?"
"By scrying?" Merlin's expression darkened. "No. And not for lack of trying. Though, scrying's more of an art than a science, and it's not a skill I'm particularly good at." He flushed slightly, embarrassed, as though he were admitting that he didn't know how to do something simple. Arthur wasn't sure why it embarrassed Merlin. To him, everything to do with magic was a complete mystery.
"Keep trying, then," Arthur said. "She can't have disappeared completely. Even if she were dead, I'm sure we'd have heard something about it from someone. As for the border," he turned to Leon, "We'll send scouts to find out their numbers and their strengths, and soldiers to reinforce the mountain garrisons." His fingers drifted over the parchment, sketching out an imaginary map of Camelot's border with Rheged. "I suppose it's fortunate that the Marcher Lords are here now. We can send the first of the men on with them when they depart in a few days, and it won't look abnormal. The rest can follow on when they're supplied. I'd like to say that Urien wouldn't try to launch a major offensive with autumn on the horizon, but after Morgana's interference last winter we can't rule anything out."
Leon's gaze flicked over Arthur's shoulder to Merlin before he looked back at the king. "No, we can't. I'll begin the preparations, then."
"Good. Bring me the reports before anyone leaves for the east. If the Marcher Lords give you any trouble, send them to me, and if anything on the border changes- anything at all- tell me about it at once, even if it's in the dead of night." Arthur glanced at Merlin and gave Leon a steady look. "We can't afford another Blackheath."
"Yes, sire. Though I doubt Lord Cador and the others will have any complaints about having more men to escort them home. I overheard him mentioning how small his retinue was, so he at least won't have anything to complain about." A wry smile pulled at Leon's lips before he excused himself and left.
Arthur glanced over the parchment again, re-reading the report as though he'd be able to find new information in the old words. He looked up at Merlin.
"I don't know anything more than you do," Merlin said.
"You have visions of the future."
"I have riddles of the future, and nothing new in the past month. I've told you before that they're not terribly useful." Merlin blinked away a fleeting expression of… regret? Arthur wasn't sure what it was, it was there and gone again so quickly.
"Well. I don't suppose we're going to accomplish anything more standing around in here. You," he waved Merlin off, "go off and do whatever it is that you're going to do. We have audiences to attend to. With the Minister of Trade and the Weavers' Guild. I'm sure it's going to be thrilling." Arthur took Guinevere's hand.
"Don't worry. I'll talk you through the proceedings." She smiled, and while she intended it as a joke, it wouldn't be terribly far from the truth. Guinevere might have a servant's grasp of economics, but it was a damn sight better than Arthur's, who had been raised to wage war on the battlefield, not across tables. After years of helping manage Morgana's household and its expenses, Guinevere had learned enough to give Camelot's steward a few lessons in bargaining.
"I'll count on you to keep them in line, then," Arthur said, and kissed her on the cheek. "And you, Merlin, try not to run into any trees or fall off a cliff. Now go on. Have a happy… whatever. We'll see you in two days."
Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur, and Guinevere reached out to clasp the sorcerer's hand. "Have a Happy Lughnasadh celebration. Now we have to go, or we're going to be late." She elbowed Arthur in the ribs. Again. It was her favorite pastime. He opened the door, and a guard standing outside pulled it the rest of the way open.
"Thank you, Gwen," Merlin said. "I'll see you both in a couple of days. I'll try to stay away from cliffs."
"See that you do," Arthur said over his shoulder before the door closed behind him, keeping the smile pasted to his face until they'd gone several paces down the hallway.
"You're worried about him, aren't you?" Guinevere asked under breath as she nodded to a pair of servants who had paused to make their courtesies to the royal couple.
Arthur took a breath to protest, then thought better of it. She was too good at telling when he was fibbing to make it worth his while to try. "A little. Maybe more than that," he finally replied, his voice as soft as hers had been. "It's just that the last time he went away to observe a holy day was at Yuletide last winter. He might pretend otherwise, but he's still not fully recovered from what happened."
"What, do you think something like that might happen again? That perhaps bandits or villagers somewhere might try to hurt him?"
"I don't know. I'm probably just paranoid." Arthur sighed and gave her a tight smile.
"Well, after everything that's happened in the past year, I think we've earned the right to to a little paranoid." Guinevere tried to return his wan smile, but too much worry shone in her eyes for that to happen. She brought them to a halt in a patch of sunlight, turning about to stand face to face with him. "We can't afford to let ourselves get so worked up over everything. If Merlin's visions are right, and if there's some great threat waiting for us, we need to be as strong as we can if we're to face it. We can't assume the worst until it actually happens."
She looked so sure of herself, but Arthur still saw her fear in the tightness around her eyes. Guinevere's strong words weren't meant for his ears alone. She was trying to convince herself, too. He laid a feather-light kiss on her brow. "You're right, of course. When did you grow so wise?"
Some of her cares eased away. He saw it in the brightening of her eyes. "During all those years when I had to put up with the arrogant, spoiled brat that you were once upon a time. Now let's go. The kingdom's business won't wait forever."