"Queen Hunith, you say?" Uther leaned forward in his seat. "As far as I recall, the sovereign of Ocrisa was a king."
"Indeed, my lord," Hunith agreed. "My husband formally held the title of sovereign, but we ruled together."
Uther nodded, sitting up. "Where is your husband, if I may ask, my lady?"
"To speak truthfully, sire, I do not know. We were separated while escaping the citadel and I haven't seen him in six years, though I pray to the gods that he is alive."
Merlin tried his best to make Hunith's view of him completely obstructed by a column. He was a relatively thin boy, to his luck, but Hunith always had some sort of sense for when her son was getting into trouble. Often, this meant that she would show up at the worst possible time.
In this case, however, it meant that Hunith spotted her son - hiding behind the pole, trying his best to shrink himself out of existence - just as Uther posed his question about the Ocrisan prince's whereabouts.
"I sent my son to Camelot over a year ago," Hunith told the council. "To learn healing and skills in medicine."
Merlin, now thoroughly sure that he had been spotted, began to walk backwards towards the servant's entrance. Now, more than ever, he was worried that his secret would finally come out.
It was not that he never wanted to tell Arthur, or Gwen, or Freya, or Morgana, it was just that this sort of thing, Merlin thought, should come from him, not from his mother or Gaius.
"Camelot, you say?"
Hunith nodded.
It felt, to Merlin, that this moment was frozen in time: stretched out forever, never ending and never beginning, never preventing the suffering that he was going to face.
He was almost to the exit when Hunith looked over at her son, eyes loving yet stern, and spoke.
"Merlin?"
Arthur should have figured it out by then. The Camelotian prince had always prided himself on quick thinking and intelligence (to Merlin's surprise), but, in all honesty, Arthur was ashamed of himself for not solving the puzzle sooner.
Merlin had been acting stranger ever since he'd stepped foot in the council chambers, eyes darting to windows and doors in something that Arthur could only describe as an overwhelming need to leave.
Hunith, the Ocrisan queen, had a strangely familiar look about her from the minute she had shown her face to the council. She had a motherly quality about her, something that was rarely seen in women of her status, but much more common, Arthur had observed, in women born of lower standing. She had come from a hard beginning, he concluded, and years of hiding have made her forsake the luxurious ways of palace life.
But it was that word, that one single word that tumbled from Merlin's mouth that made Arthur feel oh-so-dumb for not connecting the dots sooner.
"Merlin?" Hunith broke the silence brought on by Uther.
All heads, including Arthur's, turned to the manservant who was trying to leave through a servant's exit. Merlin's cheeks were growing red with blush. His eyes were trying to avoid those of the queen's, but his willingness to stare down a royal gave him away in the end.
Quietly, he spoke the word that sent Arthur into his current train of thought.
"Mother."
That went well, Merlin thought. All eyes were now directed at him, some were filled with surprise at his greeting to the queen, others in sheer confusion.
The hardest eyes to avoid, however, were the ones of his friends. Arthur's piercing blue growing wide with realization; Gwen's sweet brown and Morgana's eerie green narrowing in suspicion. But the worst of all were Freya's perfect brown. She had turned away from Merlin, the man she loved with all her heart. When she did turn and face him, they were blotched and spotted with tears.
Feeling awkward, Merlin walked over to his mother, embracing her in a short hug. He could see Uther out of the corner of his eye, ready to drill the servant boy into the ground with questions.
"My lady?" Uther questioned. Hunith turned back towards the king, still close to Merlin. "Is this boy your son?"
"'Tis he, my lord."
"Hang on a minute," Arthur interrupted. "How come you never told us about this, Merlin?"
Merlin looked at his mother before answering. She saw the sadness that lay inside of him, the part of him that loved his friends so much that keeping a secret for so long was killing him. "It's okay," She whispered. "You can do this."
Merlin looked back to Uther and Arthur, and began to speak.
"My mother and I were forced to flee the citadel during an attack when I was a boy. One of our most trusted advisors - Lord Marcus Castilian - had betrayed us, letting foreign soldiers into Ocrisa if they promised to make him the king.
"We were separated from my father that night, and I haven't seen him since. I awoke after the battle - as a squire had slipped a sleeping draft into my drink - and we were in Ealdor. My mother told me it was where she had grown up.
"I grew the rest of my years in Ealdor, until my mother deemed it fit for me to travel to Camelot and train as a physician under her uncle, Gaius."
Merlin looked up, surveying the faces around him. After seeing the council's intrigued faces, he continued. "I never expected to save Arthur's life or become his servant. But, my lord, you must understand that I have been in grave danger since the moment I left Ealdor. The only reason I have not come forward before is that I was not sure if Lord Castilian had spies within the castle." He nodded towards Uther, signaling that he had finished his tale.
Arthur looked solemn, indicating that he had understood Merlin and Merlin's reasons for not confessing. But, as Merlin knew, understanding did not mean forgiveness.
It was not until Uther spoke again that Merlin realized the full consequences of his actions. He had not yet been sure that Castilian had not sent spies into the councils and courts of neighboring kingdoms, including Camelot. If there was indeed a spy inside the palace walls, Merlin and his mother were now in grave danger.
"Very well," Uther broke Merlin's train of thought. "The council will have to come to a decision about sending men to help you find your husband, my lady. But until then, you and your knights are welcome guests here in Camelot."
And with that, the king dismissed the council.
Merlin followed Arthur out of the council chambers, knowing that the Camelotian prince was going to blow up in his face.
"Arthur?" He questioned, after following the prince into a much more secluded corner of the castle.
"Why did you not tell me?" Arthur's voice sounded like so many different things. Disappointed. Confused. Enraged. It seemed as if Arthur was thinking he did not even know Merlin anymore.
"I…" The Ocrisan prince started. Merlin was at a loss for words. "I should have."
Arthur nodded his head, agreeing.
"Arthur, I'm sorry, I should have just-"
"We could have helped you!" Arthur cried. "I don't understand why you're keeping secrets, Merlin. We're friends, aren't we?"
Truthfully, Merlin had no idea how to answer that. Was he supposed to agree that, yes, Arthur was his friend? He did feel more comfortable around Arthur over the time they'd spent together, but Merlin wasn't sure if that qualified as friendship. Friends went out to the tavern together and drank. The last time he and Arthur had spent anything close to time together was at time when they'd gotten captured while hunting.
"I'm sorry, okay!" Merlin finally exclaimed. "I was planning on telling you eventually, though. I had to be sure that there weren't any spies in the court, and-"
"I know, Merlin. I understand. Being royalty, wherever you go, it seems like there's a price on your head." Arthur bade the other prince goodbye, leaving Merlin alone in the deserted hallway.
Far from the crowded streets and high-flying banners of Camelot, a king sat on his throne.
It was his throne, of course, just not his crown. Staging a coup was nasty business, and, if all had gone according to plan that night, he would be the only one in the court that could assume power, either by force or bribery.
Alas, all, it seemed, had not gone to plan.
A man swept into the room, his head covered by a black hood. To any normal person, he would look like someone else, another person on the street that would be forgotten about the moment they looked away.
And that, the king noted, was the brilliance of magic.
The man lifted the hood from his face, eyes glowing gold with magic as the enchantment was lifted. Where there was once a grey-bearded man with a receding hairline now stood a boy of nearly twenty years.
"Well?" The king inquired.
"The queen is indeed alive, milord. She has gone to Camelot, hoping to seek aid from King Uther."
The king laughed. It was a dry, throaty laugh, usually filling those around him with terror. "Does she think Uther will be able to help her?"
"I do not yet know, my lord, but I will stay vigilant."
The king nodded. "And what of the king?"
"Nothing, sire." The boy shook his head. "Neither the queen nor the prince have seen King Balinor since you gained control of the citadel."
"The prince?"
"Yes, sire. The prince has been in Camelot for a year at most, though he lives and works within the palace."
The king pondered this for a moment before returning his gaze to the boy. "Thank you." He dismissed the boy.
The boy bowed, his cloak fluttering as he took his leave.
"William?" The boy turned back to the king. "I do not like to be betrayed, William. It will do you good to remember that."
"Of course, my lord." William bowed again, leaving the king to his thoughts.
