Author's note: Wow! Twenty-eight reviews! You guys are fabulous! I don't think I've ever had such an enthusiastic response to the first three chapters of anything before.
Anyway, this chapter was a little more of a struggle to write, and combined with the fact that I also only finished it five minutes ago, I am mentally incapable of judging its quality. At this point, my main hope is that I didn't unknowingly lapse into gibberish. Still, while it's darker than previous chapters, I think you'll enjoy it. (At least I hope so!)
And, to my continuing surprise, there will be more chapters.
Chapter Four
That year was a time of great celebration in the Kingdom of Camelot, for it was in the early spring that her most gracious majesty, Queen Guinevere, gave birth to a son and heir. The birth was a difficult one, but by summer the babe was healthy and thriving and by the fall the only danger the new Crown Prince faced was being spoiled to death by his two besotted uncles.
"It's not really fair," Elyan complained good-naturedly. "Merlin's got the advantage. I can't make balls float in the air or the wooden soldiers dance."
The King looked over from the paperwork on his table to where his Court Sorcerer, magical protector of the realm, was currently sprawled belly-down on the floor and pretending to chew on the baby's foot while making noises that sounded suspiciously like, "Nummy, nummy num nums."
"I don't think Merlin's advantage has anything to do with his magic," he consoled his brother-in-law wryly, "I think it has more to do with his having the mind of a child."
But for whatever reason, Arthur had to admit that little Llacheu was greatly taken with his mentally afflicted "uncle". Merlin always seemed to know instantly what the boy wanted, to the point where the King, the Queen and even Gaius came to half-believe Elyan's jest that Merlin could read the child's mind.
"I'm not reading his mind," Merlin assured Arthur one day as they were walking together to the Council Chambers.
"Oh, good."
"I can speak 'baby', that's all."
"Of course."
"By the way, he doesn't like the name Llacheu. He wants to be called Stormaggedon." *
"You know, someday I'm going to have a special set of magical-restraining stocks made just for you."
"That would be pretty pointless," Merlin informed him confidently.
"And why is that, pray tell?"
"Because I'm the best person you could find to make them and why would I make something to imprison myself without giving myself an easy way to escape?"
"Do me a favour, Merlin, and stop talking to the boy. I have the strongest feeling it is not at all healthy for him."
The warlock smirked. "You're just jealous I made him laugh before you did."
"Yes, Merlin. You punched his toy sheep and said, "Pow!" I eat my heart out daily that I didn't come up with that morsel of wit first."
"He still laughed."
Arthur smiled at the memory. His beautiful son had goggled saucer-eyed at the noise, fully displaying the breath-taking irises which had just turned from newborn blue to the warm shade of brown dearest to Arthur's heart, and then a beat later he had let out the merriest, most gleeful cackle Arthur had ever heard. Arthur, who hadn't even been aware that babies so small could laugh, had so delighted at the sound that anyone coming into the nursery in the next half hour could have marveled at the spectacle of the Once and Future King and history's most powerful warlock on their knees, smacking a cloth sheep while grinning like absolute loons, all for the amusement of a tiny being who couldn't even sit up yet. It had been one of the happiest moments of Arthur's life.
Naturally though, it wouldn't do for Merlin to know that.
"He wasn't laughing with you, Merlin, he was laughing at you. He knows a Court Jester when he sees one, after all. It goes without saying that he's a very perceptive child."
"Must get it from Gwen, then."
"Must do," Arthur agreed with a grin, not rising to the bait.
Merlin laughed out loud and patted him on the back. "You're getting better and better at diplomacy, Arthur. Anyway, you won't let the little imp forget me while I'm gone, will you?"
Arthur winced. "Honestly, I don't know, Merlin. This might be the perfect opportunity to try and switch his misguided affections over to a better role model. You know, like an Afanc or an Ogre or a Questing Beast - "
"Oh, very witty indeed, Sire. The boy will grow to be positively scintillating under your influence, that I can see. But you do admit he has affection for me?"
"Babies are creatures of questionable judgement."
Merlin raised an eyebrow as they reached the door to the chamber. "Even yours?" he asked.
Arthur gave him a playful shove into the room. "Get inside, you idiot. We've got work to do. And don't worry about Llacheu forgetting you. Dyfrig's not far; you'll probably only be gone a week."
"I bet I'm not gone an hour before you're trying to convince him to spit up on me the next time he sees me."
"Fine, fine, I'll have Gwen sew a Merlin doll and then we'll get someone to say stupid things and it will be like you've never left."
But it would be nearly two months before Llacheu would get to see Merlin again.
-x-
Arthur's unease started the day he watched his friends depart. Merlin, riding between Gwaine on his left and Percival on his right, looked over his shoulder and waved goodbye happily, causing Arthur to shake his head. "Watch where you're going, Half-wit!" he yelled with a laugh, but suddenly he felt a sort of pang in his chest.
Don't let them go, came a thought from nowhere.
But he couldn't stop them. The people of Dyfrig were suffering. The farmer who had come to Court begging for the King's help had said that a passing witch had cursed them, destroying their crops and poisoning their people. "The people are dying, Sire," he'd said, "And those what might live will have naught to eat come Winter."
Arthur watched from the battlements as his friends got smaller and smaller in the distance. He could just see Gwaine leaning far over in the saddle, nudging Merlin with his elbow, and the warlock throwing back his head to laugh in response at whatever it was.
Go with them, his instinct said.
But that too was impossible. There was a party coming from Mercia to discuss a treaty and he needed to be here. As the dream of Albion drew slowly closer, greater responsibilities were of necessity being placed upon his shoulders, and he could no longer as easily afford to leave at whim. Especially for something as arguably needless as riding escort for an all-powerful warlock and two of his strongest knights.
Be safe, my friends, he wished as he reluctantly turned away. He left to search out his family; without quite knowing why, he was suddenly in desperate want for the comfort only his beloved wife and son could provide.
-x-
Arthur rolled over and moved closer to Guinevere.
"Mmm, Arthur? Is something wrong?" Gwen asked sleepily.
"It's nothing, love. Go back to sleep. I'm just cold."
"Come closer, then," she murmured, wrapping her arms more tightly around him. "Is that good?" she asked, her eyes already closed again.
"More than good," he whispered back. But it wasn't. As comforting as he found being held in his wife's cosy embrace, it didn't quite dispel the chill he was feeling. He lay awake for some time feeling the sensation growing stronger before he realized that he was inexplicably anxious.
Arthur was not generally a worrier. That's not to say he never felt concern - he did, but usually only when he was in a situation that was threatening him or his Kingdom. And yes, there were times of doubts as well, times when it took Gwen or Merlin or Gaius, or perhaps all three, to set him on his feet again. But this unwarranted restlessness, this kind of dread coming out of nowhere… this was something he almost never had to endure. The last time he'd felt like this had been while Gwen was expecting. Considering his own mother's history, however, that had therefore been understandable at least.
But what was it now? Was it the baby? Gwen was usually much more attuned to the child than he was and she seemed perfectly content, but just to be certain he eased himself carefully out of her embrace, colder the moment the touch of her arms left his skin, and padded softly over to Llacheu's cradle.
"Are you well, my little lad?" he asked in a gentle whisper as he stroked the baby's cheek. For a moment, some of his tension dissipated as his hand moved to touch the baby's fine soft hair, straighter than his mother's as of yet, but still so obviously from her. The baby was fine, neither too cold nor too warm, his breathing deep and even.
He watched his child sleep until the cold reasserted itself again. Moving to the window, he looked outside. There had been a nip in the air that day that promised snow, but it hadn't started yet and the paths were clear. The negotiations with the delegation from Mercia had gone extremely well and they had left two days before and, with luck, Arthur thought they would make it home without difficulty.
His gaze wandered over the castle grounds below him. He could see no undue movement in the shadows, nor signs of disturbance in the light of the bobbing torches of those on watch, and all seemed quiet.
Everything's fine, he told himself. Why are you so worried?
Then he saw them. A darker shape silhouetted against black of the night sky, flying at the castle from the north, with a smaller, slightly lighter one beside it, white hide glowing in the starlight. There was a sudden uproar on the battlements as the guards on watch spotted them as well.
A shiver pierced his spine and his hands tightened into painful fists at his side.
Arthur Pendragon, a voice he hadn't heard in nearly three years said in his head, Come to the gate. For I am afraid I bring your warlock back to you somewhat less than whole.
Arthur's heart sank within him.
-x-
Arthur, Gaius, Leon, Elyan and half a dozen servants rode out to meet the swiftly approaching party on the grounds in front of the castle, a line of guards ringing around them at their backs.
In the darkness though it was, the King would never, ever forget the sight of the Great Dragon flying in low, coming directly towards him as he dismounted and rushed forward, with a white-faced Percival in one clawed grasp, and in the other…
In the other was Gwaine, holding another's lax form tightly to him, one hand keeping the darker head turned away and tucked into the space between the knight's neck and shoulder, shielding his friend's face from the wind. The other form - Merlin - lay silent and unmoving, but what Arthur's eyes were drawn to as Kilgharrah hovered just above, lowering his handfuls gently towards outstretched arms, was the warlock's feet. Dangling bare and forlorn beneath the dragon's grip, they looked as though they had been ripped to shreds and were dripping blood.
They also had been burned.
-x-
A sickened Arthur was confused but did not protest when Gaius directed Merlin to be placed on the blankets the servants had lain on the ground.
"The dragons may be able to help, Arthur," the physician explained before Arthur could even voice the question, "But Kilgharrah is too big to fit in the courtyard."
With Gwaine's assistance, he lowered the unconscious man down as gently as he would a sleeping Llacheu and then all three men backed away.
"Aithusa and I will do what we can, Young Pendragon," the dragon said, badly startling the crowd behind them, a few of whom had been completely unaware the beast could speak. "But Merlin is in gravely ill as well as injured."
"Ill?" Arthur demanded, stunned. "Is it the same sickness that was afflicting the villagers?" But Kilgharrah did not bother to answer; he and Aithusa were already leaning their heads towards the still body on the ground before them, gathering their power within them and preparing to work.
"It was these, Arthur," Percival said, coming up to him and Gaius. He opened his hand to show them a long, silver-coloured spike.
"What is it?" Gaius asked, taking the object and examining it closely.
Percival's voice quivered with rage for the first time since Arthur had met him. "They didn't tie him or even shackle him to the stake! Those damned… monsters…melted down their magic-resistant chains and made these spikes, and then they nailed him to it!"
Arthur felt Gaius flinch beside him. "And now of all the dark spells made to keep his magic under control have been driven right into his blood," the older man exclaimed with a hush.
"That's what the dragons said," Gwaine told them.
That was the last anyone spoke for awhile. As Arthur, Gaius, and Arthur's four best Knights stood and waited, their gazes never left the sight of their stricken friend even as the torches died down and dawn came upon them.
Finally, finally, the dragons raised their heads and moved back a step.
Arthur strode forward. He did not notice the beauty of the pink and golden sky to the east, nor the mist rising from glassy pond to the west.
"Have you finished?"
"We have done all we can, Arthur Pendragon," the Great Dragon answered regretfully. The beast's head was drooping, even bowed, but whether with grief or merely fatigue, Arthur could not tell.
Arthur swallowed thickly, fearing to say his next words. But he was King, and a King does not shy away. "Does he live?"
"He does, but whether he will continue to do so, neither I nor Aithusa can say."
Arthur looked towards the smaller dragon and his heart broke a little to see the glistening tears falling from the young creature's eyes.
"We destroyed the bad magic," Aithusa said and Arthur nearly smiled, for who knew dragons could sniffle? "But Father is so weak…"
Arthur did his best to console him, feeling more than a little helpless in the face of a softly whimpering dragon. "Try not to worry, Aithusa," he said, as Gaius moved forward on his other side to kneel by the side of his ward. "There are many here who love him and we will do everything in our power to make sure he gets well."
Aithusa glared balefully back at the castle. "Not everyone loves him like they should!"
"No. No they don't," the King admitted. "But those who don't will not get near him. I promise."
The little dragon bobbed his head in acceptance.
"Arthur, we must take him to the castle now," Gaius said.
Arthur barked orders for the litter to come forward and then he ordered his guards to clear the courtyard.
"What for?" Gwaine asked. "Maybe those who hate him will feel a little sympathy."
"No, they won't," Arthur said flatly. "And I will not have them seeing him like this so they can gloat with pleasure."
Gwaine nodded and left Arthur where he was standing to follow the procession through the gates. Arthur turned back to the dragons.
"No matter what happens, Kilgharrah, Aithusa, you will always have my gratitude for what you did this night."
"There is no need for thanks, young Pendragon. He is our Dragonlord and our kin. It would have been breaking the bounds of love and duty not to have tried to save him."
"Nevertheless, you have my thanks. Whatever I can do for you in return, I will do."
"Then we accept them graciously, King Arthur. Care and protect the young warlock as he does for you, and all accounting of debt will be unnecessary."
Arthur nodded in understanding and the dragons rose into the sky. As he walked slowly back to the citadel accompanied by those servants who had awaited him, he could not help but think that he had already failed.
* Yes, I shamelessly stole this from "Doctor Who". You have to understand, I'm just not known for my willpower. Therefore, it would be ridiculous of you to expect me to resist things like this.