AN: I took some lines directly from episode 1x10. Since this chapter follows that episode, I had the other characters say their original dialogue in parts, though some of the dialogue was changed to fit Arthur's different reactions.
I love hearing what people are thinking of this story, so if you have any thoughts or comments, please review and let me know! Even if you think someone is wildly out of character, or you notice I got some aspect of the setting wrong or something. Constructive criticism is just as welcome as letting me know you liked it. On the other hand, if you do like it, let me know why so I'm know what I'm doing right! Even if you don't review, though, I still hope you enjoy reading. So, I'll stop rambling on now and get on with it!
Soft, silver moonlight filtered through the fall-dulled leaves of the forest as the small group from Camelot rode towards Ealdor. Morgana had taken the lead with Hunith, and the two laughed and talked as the horses picked their way over the leaf-strewn ground. At the back of the group, Merlin rode next to Gwen in silence. Between the two groups, alone with his thoughts, rode Arthur.
He stared at Morgana's back as Hunith laughed brightly at something the witch said.
Unlike the fraying black gowns Arthur had grown used to seeing her in, Morgana currently wore a sensible but well-made brown travelling dress, and her dark hair was braided neatly down her back. Looking at his half-sister like this, with the moonlight illuminating her in a soft glow as she rode through the trees, intending to help people rather than to kill them, brought a great pang of sadness to his heart. When did you become so lost? He asked her in his thoughts.
"You know, if you just told her how you feel, I'm sure she'd appreciate it a lot more than this creepy staring." Arthur straightened and twisted to face his manservant, who had come up beside him unexpectedly.
"What do you mean?" Confusion laced Arthur's voice. Had Merlin remembered their future as well?
"Well, it's obvious you're in love with her." Arthur gaped, but Merlin was still speaking. "You haven't stopped staring at her since we left, and she isn't even wearing one of her special man-catching gowns."
Disgust rose in Arthur at the thought of being in love with Morgana, of all people. "I would never be in love with her!" He lowered his voice. "That's completely gross, Merlin." How could anyone think he would be in love with his sister, the sister who had tried to kill him at least half a dozen times, what's more?
Merlin grinned at him in clear disbelief. "Right, Sire," he said, mockingly. Once again, Arthur was struck by the fact that this was not his Merlin. Still, he could not help the snide, joking retort that passed his lips.
"Oh please, Merlin," he said, giving his manservant a condescending look, "As if you would know anything about romance. I bet you're hopeless with girls."
Merlin snorted. "I don't have time for girls, what with running after you all the time." Once, Arthur would have scoffed at this. Now, he knew how much 'running after' him Merlin really did, and the banter died on his tongue.
Merlin gave him a strange look at his lack of an answer. When the silence carried on, the sorcerer shrugged next to him and dropped back to ride next to Gwen again.
Arthur watched him drop back, wishing that he could ride next to Gwen. He wanted to tell her about his problems and have her tell him that she believed in him and knew he would make the right decisions, as she always did. Unfortunately, that was not his Gwen riding beside the young Merlin, either.
In spite of the differences between the young Merlin and the man Arthur had grown used to, it would be so easy to confide in Merlin. Even before he learned of Merlin's magic, Arthur had known that his jokes about Merlin's lack of intelligence were unfair. The man had always had strange bouts of wisdom, even in their early days together. Perhaps it had been the burden of his great secret that had aged Merlin beyond his years and given him a wisdom past what most men could hope for, but Merlin had never flinched away from difficult decisions, had always seemed so confident in everything that he did; his unwavering confidence in Arthur and the man he would become had given the young prince, and later the young king, hope in some of his darkest moments. Even with illegal magic, Merlin's loyalty to Camelot and to Arthur was unquestionable.
Still, what could Arthur say? He could not exactly go up to Merlin and say, "By the way, I'm actually a future version of myself, and I know your secret. I thought I was dying, but instead I ended up here. I don't suppose you know of a spell to save someone's life with time travel that your future self might have used on me?"
The words sounded remarkably stupid in his head. Merlin would probably think he'd been enchanted and try to knock him out to save him from himself.
A few hours later, the group finally halted in a small clearing to make camp. Merlin and Gwen busied themselves setting up Arthur and Morgana's things first, and then used a few of their provisions to make a fairly delicious stew.
It hurt a bit to see his best friend and future wife so close as they worked together, when he felt so distant from them both.
Still, there was nothing he could do about Merlin unless he figured out a way to talk to the sorcerer that would not make him sound insane. As for Gwen, he would just have to try not to act like a prat as much as possible, and hope she fell for him soon. He missed his wife desperately. Merlin had helped him win Gwen's heart the first time around; perhaps he would do so again. It would certainly help to stamp out the ridiculous notion that he was in love with Morgana.
His thoughts turned to the battle ahead as he lay down against a large tree with roots branching out from the bottom, forming a little hollow in the ground. He only vaguely remembered the fight; all the details were lost to time. They had defeated the bandit hoard, and surprisingly few people had died, that he did remember. Beyond that, all else was a haze. The lack of detail frustrated him, as he was certain that something import had occurred during the fight. Perhaps it would come back when they reached Ealdor.
Near the fire, Merlin and his mother spoke in low tones, and Arthur watched them for a while as he contemplated the future that was his past. Slowly, the distant murmur of Merlin's voice and the soft crackling of their fire lulled him into sleep. Before he knew it, he had dropped off into blackness.
Nimueh growled in frustration as she exited the druid camp. It was the third one she had visited, and so far all of them had refused to tell her anything about their prophesies regarding the Once and Future King and his friend, Emrys. Her name was well known to all who remembered the time before the Purge, and many of them considered her responsible for the King's actions. After all, it had been her who agreed to grant the King a son, even at the expense of an innocent life. As a consequence, the druids mistrusted her.
Still, she was not going to give up. There was still one place she could think of to get information. It would be dangerous, and she would likely have to make strike an unpleasant bargain, but she was determined to get the information she wanted.
With a determined sneer, she set off into the woods to find the ingredients she would need for a spell to disguise herself. There was no way she would get into Camelot looking like herself.
The next morning passed much as the previous evening had for Arthur. Forests stretched across most of the land between the city of Camelot and the edge of Cenred's kingdom where Ealdor lay, and it was slow going on the mountainous paths that snaked upwards through the trees, over the Ridge of Essetir.
Finally, they broke out of the tree cover in early afternoon, and Arthur spotted the small wooden houses of Ealdor in the distance.
As they approached, Arthur realized that something was wrong. Several dirty looking men stood in the center of town, threatening a man who stood tall in front of him. Arthur urged his horse into a gallop just as the largest bandit raised an ax to strike down the villager. He threw a dagger into a wood post behind the man, who must have been Kanen, then threw himself off his horse and drew his sword. He took advantage of the bandits' confusion to strike down one of Kanen's followers immediately.
The bandits rallied quickly, but by that point, Morgana, Merlin, and Gwen had arrived as well and thrown themselves into the fray. Arthur was only distantly aware of their arrival, however, as he turned all his attention to the fight at hand.
He blocked a blow from a large, scowling man in front of him and swung his sword around in a deadly arc, leaving a fatal wound in the man's stomach.
That's two down, he thought to himself, turning his head rapidly from side to side, looking for the next challenger. He cut down another bandit charging at his left side, when he sensed something behind him. Spinning around, he was just in time to see Morgana kill a bandit who had been trying to attack him from behind.
"Bring back memories of when I used to beat you?" Morgana asked, mocking laughter following the words.
Arthur nearly dropped his sword as his mind flashed back to images of Morgana sitting on the throne of Camelot, hatred in her eyes as she sentenced Uther to the dungeons while Arthur watched helplessly, hidden behind a balcony.
"Look out," Morgana yelled, and he swung back to take out another bandit sneaking up behind him.
Kanen screamed as his men were killed around him. "You'll pay for this with your lives! All of you!" He shouted, urging his horse into a gallop and riding out of the village.
Morgana walked up behind Arthur, but he did not notice until she spoke. "What was that all about, just then?" she asked. He made a rather unmanly squeak and spun around to see Morgana giving him an odd look, left eyebrow raised.
"Ah, nothing," he said, hoping she did not pry too much. "I was just not expecting you to be such a good fighter."
Morgana's right eyebrow joined the other by her hairline. "Right…" she said.
"What? It's true." He turned away from her defiantly, hoping she would drop the subject.
He could worry about Morgana later. For now, he needed to bring some hope to these villagers.
"Merlin," he said, finding his manservant about a dozen feet away, near a barn, talking to another young man. "Gather the villagers. I need to speak to them."
"Yeah, in a minute. I'm just talking-" Merlin began, but Arthur cut him off. It would be best if he could speak to everyone soon. They needed to get to work practicing their swordsmanship as soon as possible.
"Now, Merlin," he ordered.
"Yes, Sire," Merlin said, hurrying off.
Once the villagers had been assembled, Arthur looked over them. There were so few of them, and they all wore the simple brown garb of poor folk who had little need or occasion for fancy dress. Still, the scene before him reminded him of the last speech he had given to his knights in Camlann, before Morgana and the Saxons attacked. Those men had been fearless warriors, trained knights of Camelot protecting their homeland and their people. These men were neither fearless warriors nor knights, but they too would fight to protect their homes. Standing in front of them, Arthur spoke to the assembled men in the same voice he used to inspire his knights to battle.
"Kanen will return in a matter of days, at most," Arthur said. "He will likely bring the rest of his men when he returns. When he does, he will find you prepared to fight for what is yours! He will not find-" A voice cut him off.
"Am I the only wondering who the hell this is?" The young man with whom Merlin had been talking earlier addressed his question to the assembled villagers, causing some discontented mutterings.
Memories suddenly reared up in Arthur's mind. This boy was the one he had forgotten. He was Merlin's friend, and the first time around he had saved Arthur's life with his own right before admitting to the use of magic moments prior to drive off Kanen's forces for good. With sudden clarity, Arthur knew what must have happened. If this boy had magic, he would not be spending his time yelling at Arthur; magic was not forbidden by Cenred, so he could have saved the village already. Merlin must have used his magic, meaning that this boy had saved not only Arthur's, but also Merlin's life when he died. He owed this boy a great debt.
"Um, Arthur?" Merlin's voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized with a start that the villagers were waiting for him to answer and beginning to mutter more angrily. Merlin, Gwen, and Morgana were also looking at him, each with varying levels of puzzlement on their faces.
Drawing himself up, Arthur said, "I am Arthur, Crown Prince of Camelot."
The boy interrupted again, sneering. "Yeah, and, er, I'm William, Prince of Ealdor," he said, sarcastically. Finally, Arthur remembered his name.
Hunith and Will got into a brief argument, but Arthur cut them off by raising his voice above the other two. Using his most kingly voice, Arthur said, "If you do not fight Kanen now, he will neverleave your village in peace. He will take all the food he can find, and those who do not starve will face him each year until your village dies!"
"We'll manage! We'll survive!" Once more, Will cut into Arthur's speech, his words stubborn and angry.
The villagers, at least, saw Arthur's point, however, as they began to stand up to Will. Arthur added his own voice to the villagers', saying, "You must fight for your home, or Kanen will destroy it!"
However, Will was undaunted. "No!" He shouted back. "You just want the honor and glory of battle! That's what drives men like you! Look, if you want to fight, then go home and risk the lives of your own people, not ours!" With his memory of Will's dying face so recently recalled, Arthur flinched from Will's words and looked away.
Hunith took up the cause then. "I'll follow you," she said, a look of determination in her eyes that reminded Arthur strongly of Merlin. "If I'm to die, then I want to go out fighting."
After that, many of the villagers rushed to add their voices to Hunith's, crying out their own resolution to fight. Arthur did his best to maintain a neutral expression as Will stormed off in anger, but inside he sighed. He had no idea what had made the young man return originally. Hopefully, he could find some way to ensure that things went better than the last time.
The villagers' enthusiasm cooled somewhat as Arthur walked through them, questioning the older men on how many people could fight and what sort of weapons they had and, failing weapons, what they had that could be used as a weapon. Though there were a lot of young men willing to fight who were strong from years of farm work, the weapons situation was dismal.
A hardy, middle-aged man named Garth showed him around the village. It was a tiny place, built for simple folk who, while used to living on their own and surviving by their own wits without much interference from a king, also had little experience with organized fighting. The place was high up in the hills, with few paths leading to it from the surrounding forests.
"That man you saved," Garth said, glancing sideways at Arthur as they walked down a small dirt path between a barn and a tiny home. "His name is Matthew. He was about the only one what still stood up to Kanen, before you lot came along."
Arthur remained silent, wondering where Garth was going with this conversation. He remembered very little of the details of these people's lives. The last time he had been here, he had still been a spoilt brat, unable to truly appreciate any sort of life beyond his own in Camelot.
When Garth realized that no response was forthcoming, he continued. "Matthew's a good man. His son was shot by Kanen and nearly died a week ago. He's still not in great condition." Garth stopped walking, and looked the prince in the eyes, a brave move for a simple farmer. "You gave a fancy speech back there, and the people of this town will fight, as they probably should, but that boy Will wasn't entirely wrong. Some of us are going to die when Kanen comes back with all his men. The rush of battle will see the men through till it's over, but when things settle and our people count their losses, you will not be fondly remembered in Ealdor, as necessary as this will be. So, if it is glory you're looking for, then maybe you should go home."
Once upon a time, Arthur would have bristled at the words and responded with rudeness. He was still tempted to do just that, but years of diplomacy, spending time with Merlin, and marriage to Gwen held him back.
"I understand Will's anger," Arthur said, meeting Garth's eyes, "and I do not begrudge his words. However, he is wrong. I came here to help your village because it is the right thing to do. One day, I will be a King. When that day comes, I will have to decide many times whether to use my power to help those who are weaker than I, no matter who they are, or to use my power as a tyrant, ensuring loyalty in my subjects only through fear. Hopefully, I will always make the right choice."
Garth stared at him long enough for Arthur to become uncomfortable, then nodded. "Alright then. We've still got to go see old Simmons. He wasn't outside earlier, and he won't want to fight, but he's probably got a solid woodcutting ax or two we could arm a few of the younger boys with."
That night, the Camelot citizens slept on Hunith's floor. She had been kind enough to cook them some food from her limited supply, and had cleared an area of the floor and found a few blankets for them to use. Arthur and Merlin lay next to each other, head to toe.
The others dropped off swiftly to sleep, but Arthur and Merlin remained awake, both lost in thought. Arthur wished desperately that his Merlin could be here next to him. This Merlin was so young. Arthur wanted to say something to him, to reassure him that everything would go well, but he would not lie. Even if Arthur managed to save Will's life, there were sure to be at least a few deaths in the coming battle. Things worth fighting for were rarely gained without loss.
Eventually, even Merlin's breathing evened out into sleep. Arthur stayed up watching his manservant sleep for a while longer, thoughts chasing themselves in fruitless circles in his head, before sleep finally claimed his as well.
The next morning, after eating a bowl of the porridge that Hunith had been kind enough to make for her guests, Arthur called Merlin over to help him dress for the day. They had little time to waste, if his memories were accurate. Even if they weren't, Kanen did not strike him as the type to wait overlong before attacking his enemies.
"You still not learned how to dress yourself?" Morgana asked mockingly, passing by already in her day-clothes.
Arthur simply scowled at her, prompting another strange look.
"Come on Arthur," she said, "don't tell me you don't have any comebacks? Did sleeping on the floor remove the few wits you have?" She smiled teasingly.
Arthur ignored her. "Are you nearly done?" he asked Merlin. At his manservant's affirmative reply, Arthur strode to the door where Hunith stood watching them. "Thank you for the breakfast," he said. "It was delicious." He missed the looks of surprise that graced everyone's faces as he called over his shoulder to Merlin. "Merlin, I need you to gather wood; I am going to teach the men to fight."
He did not wait for Merlin before leaving Hunith's house. Garth and Matthew had assembled all the able bodied men in the center of the village; as Arthur walked up to them, he hid his dismay at how few there were.
"Right," he said, deciding to get straight to business. "How many of you have swords, axes, or other sharp weapons?" About three quarters of the men raised their hands. "If those of your with weapons could bring them out, I'd like to see what we have to work with," Arthur continued. Most of those who had raised their hands drew out swords, axes, and even a few pitchforks in various states of disrepair, but a few had to run back to their homes, having apparently forgotten to bring their weapons to their first day of training. Of the weapons Arthur inspected, the pitchforks were largely in the best shape. A few people had recently sharpened axes, but even those were notched or scratched at least once from use.
"Right," Arthur said, glancing back to where Gwen and Morgana had come up behind him to watch. "Gwen, your father was a blacksmith, right?"
"He is, yes," Gwen replied.
"Can you do something about these weapons?" he asked. "You've only got a day or two."
Gwen drew herself up. "If someone lends me a whetstone, I can at least get all the swords and axes in working order," she said. Next to her, Morgana stepped forward. Arthur had to stop himself from flinching when she spoke.
"I can help. If Gwen will show me what to do, I can at least make the work go more quickly," she said, looking at Gwen. "We need all the speed we can get."
Arthur swallowed back a retort. "Everyone whose weapon is not in peak condition, take your weapon to Guinevere and she'll get it in fighting shape for you," he said, addressing the assembled villagers. "Luke," he said to a boy no older than fifteen by the end of the row, "can you help Guinevere find the tools she will need?" The boy nodded, looking pleased at being singled out by the prince.
"In the meantime," Arthur said to the remaining men once they had deposited their weapons at Hunith's house and Luke had led away Gwen and Morgana, "I will teach you some basic sword-fighting skills. We can use staffs as stand-ins for swords, for now. Those who do not have a sword or other weapon will have to use a staff when the battle comes."
Some of the village men had anticipated this, and already carried staffs of wood. For the rest, they found staffs in broom handles, gardening tools, and anything else they could find.
The training went miserably, of course. Few of the men had ever fought anything more than a particularly stubborn crop before, he guessed. He taught them how to stand so they would be strongest and then gave them a set of parries and blows that were not too difficult.
"Remember, keep your feet moving, and never stay close to your enemy for longer than it takes to land a blow," he cried. He corrected the stance of a middle aged man, then moved to a boy a year or two older than himself and showed him how to grip his sword to make the blows stronger.
After some time, he realized that Matthew and three others wielded their pretend blades better than the rest. Matthew especially seemed more comfortable than those around him. He would need less training than the others to hold his own.
"Matthew," he said, interrupting the man in question as he swung his sword in a downward arc. "I want you to organize a patrol. Watch the edges of the woods, and if you see Kanen or his men coming, ride back. You do not need to engage him until he comes for the village."
Matthew nodded, breaking away from the group. He gathered two others, and they rode away in the same direction Kanen had gone the day before.
A few men stopped their drills to watch Matthew's small group ride away. "Get back to your practice," Arthur told them. "One, two, three, four!" He called out the time for the men, who went back to blocking and stabbing as he had shown.
Several hours later, Arthur allowed the weary men to break for a brief lunch. He watched them rest, frustration worming its way through him at how little skill most of them had. He had to talk to Merlin. There was no way they could defeat Kanen without using magic, as Merlin had the first time.
"Looks like the battle's already fought and lost." Morgana came up behind him, causing him to whip around with his own sword out. He remembered at the last moment that this was not his Morgana. Still, he really wished she would stop sneaking up on him.
She raised one dark eyebrow at him, frowning. "You have been acting very oddly since we set out, Arthur," she said. "You know, if you're too afraid to fight, Gwen and I would be happy to take your place." She grinned at him
"I'm fine," Arthur said, brushing off Morgana's concern. Turning to Gwen, he asked, "How are the weapons coming?"
Gwen, too, was giving him an odd, concerned look, but quickly covered it up as he addressed her. "They are coming along reasonably well," she said. "I think we'll be able to scrounge up a few more, as well, enough to arm a few more men. There are also a lot of farming tools that can be used as weapons for those who don't have a real weapon." She hesitated, then plowed forward. "However, you need more people than you have. We think the women should be allowed to fight."
Arthur smiled at the determination on her face. Morgana was adding her own argument to Gwen's statement, but Arthur ignored it. He loved Gwen for her ability to stand up for everyone and her willingness to help whoever needed help even at cost to herself. There were truly few women in the world as amazing as his Guinevere.
"I would be honored to fight beside you," he said, knowing she would not be dissuaded.
Both women stared at Arthur in surprise. "Well," Morgana said finally, "it's good to see that you're finally getting over your prejudice."
"Indeed," Arthur replied. "I have a more open mind than you believe, Morgana," he said, speaking more to the Morgana she would become than the woman in front of him. She gave him a considering look.
"Perhaps you do, Arthur. Perhaps you do."
The rest of the day was spent on more sword drills and footwork. By the time night fell, every able-bodied man in Ealdor was ready to drag himself to the nearest soft spot and sleep for a week. At the same time, they felt energized in a way they had rarely experienced before.
Arthur had proved to be a worthy teacher, patient and willing to explain things more than once, yet strict and harsh where he needed to be. Many young men were already looking up to Arthur, and several of the older men remarked that Arthur showed wisdom beyond his few years and already conducted himself like a king.
In Hunith's house, Arthur once more found himself lying next to his manservant on the floor after a meal of porridge. Merlin had disappeared all day, no doubt to talk to Will about magic. The sorcerer had reappeared in time for dinner, but Arthur had not dared talk to him in front of everyone. He resolved to corner Merlin the next day.
With that thought, Arthur drifted off to sleep, dreaming uneasy dreams about magic and dragons before the blackness of deep sleep claimed him.
