Merlin had awakened to the sound of raindrops splashing the library windows. He relaxed into the morning pitter-patter, smiling to himself. These last weeks had been so very good. Arthur hearing Carwyn had made a world of difference. His king had regained determination and strength of heart. They'd trained together and taken numerous hikes around his property, talking, sharing, even hunting a little, small game Merlin allowed. The years had seemed to melt away, and Merlin gloried in doing things they used to, but this time fully known to each other. It was a dream come true.
"Up, lazy daisy."
Merlin's gaze shifted to the woman standing at the end of his bed, a tray in her hands. "Marg."
"You always sleep too late on rainy days," his gray haired housekeeper complained.
"And you always think that means I need breakfast in bed."
"I've done it all these years. Why stop?"
Merlin smiled again as she set the tray on a low table near the bed, then occupied his easy chair. As he picked up some buttered toast, Marg spoke.
"He's been good for you."
Merlin's eyes drifted over to her.
"Ever since I've known you, something has been missing. It was him."
Merlin chewed and ruminated. He'd lived while Arthur had been gone, enjoyed so much of his life, and yet, even in those moments an emptiness remained somewhere in his soul, as if he wasn't fully present. He'd catch himself staring into nothing, reliving memories of Arthur. One would think after fifteen hundred years his remembrances of his friend and king would have dulled, but they persisted, constant and fresh, sustaining his longing for Arthur's return.
"I think you're right," Merlin agreed, cracking an egg.
"Everything will change soon."
Merlin cocked his head at Marg. "You sense something?"
Marg shook her head. "Nothing. But he's back and you're even better. Anyone who knew you could tell the wind's changing direction."
Merlin spooned egg into his mouth. "Your father would be proud of you."
Marg's intuitive eyes lowered to her flowered dress. "He was. I always knew."
"He wished he could have done more."
Marg lifted her head to meet his eyes again. "He did all he was meant to. So did you." She stood, pacing to one of the windows. "Rain. Both of you will be stuck inside today."
Merlin huffed. "Rain never stopped Arthur from hunting."
"More hunting?"
"I won't let him. He should study."
"He's fairly good now. Brave enough to talk to me."
Merlin palmed a bowl of fruit. "How's that feel for you? Strange?"
"We haven't said much," Marg murmured as she continued to stare out the window. "Exchanged pleasantries."
"I'm surprised you haven't told him."
"I thought you wouldn't want me to."
"I wouldn't command you not to."
"But you wouldn't like it either. It would be too much for him, maybe."
Merlin swallowed strawberry. "I trust your discretion, but it's also not my secret to tell. Though it might be best I'm present when you let him in on it."
"Oh no."
Merlin had just popped a berry in his mouth and continued to munch as he looked up. "You don't want me there?"
Marg turned. "That's not what I'm referring to." She pointed. "Look who's here." Merlin stood up, ambling over to the window to behold a group of six people and a young boy headed towards the mansion.
"They didn't think to warn me?" He dashed to the tray, dropped his bowl on it, and ran to the door, stopping to look back at her. "They can't know about him. Not yet. Do something."
Marg held up helpless hands. "Lock him in his room?"
"Marg!"
"I'll handle it. Go."
Merlin rushed out the door.
Arthur heard shuffling in his room and groaned. Yesterday he'd spent all day outdoors with Merlin who had quizzed him up and down his lands about language. He was pretty proud of himself when Merlin praised how fast he'd advanced, though he tried not to show it. He'd gone to bed late and tired, and when he'd woken in the middle of the night to rain, presumed Merlin would appear later than usual as he drifted off again.
"Merlin. Get out." He worked to sound grumpy, but in point of fact, he'd been glad more than once that Merlin maintained a similar schedule to the one they had followed in Camelot, waking him instead of letting him laze about.
"Master Merlin is not here."
Arthur shot up in bed at the wrinkled and feminine voice. The housekeeper stood at his table, plump and smiling and letting her eyes rove over him. Arthur became suddenly aware he wasn't wearing even a sleeping shirt. He pulled the sheet up. "Where is he?" he snapped a little too rudely.
"Busy," Marg answered. "Here's your breakfast. And mine."
"Yours?"
"I'm going to breakfast with you." She spoke very slowly, as if she assumed he would have a hard time catching her every word. Annoyance at her speaking to him like a child quickly resolved into gratefulness for the courtesy. He was doing well, but understanding her was harder than Merlin.
"Eh..." He didn't manage the "why" before she continued.
"You can practice."
Oh. So that's why. Merlin was probably downstairs right now grinning at the fact he'd sicced the housekeeper on him to make him talk to someone else.
Marg strode across the room to his wardrobe. "What would you like today?"
"I...just...Merlin picks most of the time."
"You look good in red."
Arthur's cheeks flushed. Was it anywhere near appropriate for an older woman to notice such things? Marg turned, holding a pair of trousers and his red shirt. "Well, get on with it," she encouraged.
Arthur jumped up and snatched the clothing out of her hands to slide in behind the dressing screen. When he returned, she was sitting at the table, eating her own meal, back straight, prim and proper. He sat down stiffly instead of slumping as usual, feeling out of place and under some kind of scrutiny in her presence.
For a long while, silence reigned. Arthur waited for her to initiate, not yet accustomed to speaking first in a language he had so recently gotten a handle on. After a time, the silence grated on him, and the question he had first thought to ask found itself on his lips. "You call Merlin 'master'?"
She set her spoon down, swallowed, then smiled. "He hates it."
Arthur smiled back, unsurprised. "Why?"
Marg shifted back and forth in her chair. "He doesn't like me acting like a servant. He's always been the one to serve."
Merlin's words before he'd died came back to him: Some men are born to plow fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me, I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing. He was rendered momentarily speechless, fighting a war of emotion with his eyes, blinking to maintain control. "I meant why do you call him 'master' if he hates it."
"I was afraid you meant that."
Arthur's brow furrowed.
"It's habit. I've been with him for a long time."
"How long?"
"Fifty-four years."
Arthur regarded her critically as he chewed some ham. He estimated her age to be in the sixties, so she would have met Merlin as a youth. She had looked back down at her plate, now mostly empty. He read her uncomfortable body language, but still felt intensely curious and wanted to push her for more. He jarringly realized he knew almost nothing about Merlin's life without him except for the pictures on the wall in the library that served as memorials to the people Merlin had loved dearest in his long lifetime.
He opened his mouth to ask for more explanation when a clatter filtered down the hallway. He turned an alarmed gaze to the doorway, while Marg rose to her feet, speaking sharply. "I'll see to it. Stay here."
She bolted to the doorway, but something about her insistence and a hint of fear in it drew him to his feet. He peered down the hall to see her rush into the armory. He followed and was in earshot to catch a harsh whisper.
"You little imp! You shouldn't be here."
"Merlin let me before."
"Not today. Get back down there."
A boy about eight years old was shoved out the door, and when he saw Arthur, he jumped, but recovered quickly and inquired, "You new?"
Arthur replied as Marg stepped out behind the boy with a distraught expression. "Yes."
"Emrys's going to teach you?"
"He...already is."
"What can you do?"
Marg pushed the boy in the back. "Down. Now."
The boy shrugged away from her, cupping his hands and smirking. His eyes flared gold and even though Arthur had seen it enough now on Merlin, years fearing magic caused him to step back. A light shined from the boy's hands, and then shifted to form a dragon floating in the air above his palms.
Another memory came back full force―himself wounded, Merlin kneeling next to him, crying in such earnest as he'd never seen before, confessing himself a sorcerer, then proving it by summoning a dragon out of fire. It occurred to Arthur then it had been a beautiful thing to do, very Merlin, but he'd been too afraid to appreciate it at the time.
"Stop showing off. Go to the kitchen. I have something for you."
The dragon dissipated and the boy waved before opening the door and taking the stairs. Arthur looked at Marg. "Who was that?" He heard more voices below. "Are there more people here?"
Marg grasped his arm, the first physical contact they had made and he felt desperation in it. "You cannot go down there. It isn't time. Come." She pulled him back to his room, but he wiggled out of her grasp when they got there and marched away from her.
"What is going on?"
Marg filled the doorway as if to prevent him moving past her.
"Did Merlin tell you to hide this from me? We said no secrets."
Marg stared at him, unmoving. Arthur thought she looked rather fierce and unyielding for an elderly woman. "It would complicate matters."
Arthur didn't quite comprehend the meaning of the terms. Maybe he hadn't learned them yet. "It would what?"
Marg's eyes lifted up to the left as she searched for words. "It would make a mess."
Arthur let out a frustrated breath and stepped up to her. "I want to go downstairs."
Marg pointed at the table. "Sit."
Arthur crossed his arms over his chest.
"Sit. I'll show you." Her demeanor had morphed from antagonism to nervousness. Arthur saw the trepidation in her eyes and wondered if he was in danger. He moved back to the table and slipped down into his seat once more.
Marg tramped across the room to his desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved a piece of parchment. She returned, sliding his plate out of the way to set the blank parchment before him. "I don't know how else to explain. Too many words otherwise." She sounded apologetic. She placed the fingertips of her right hand on the parchment, and Arthur's eyes rounded as inky lines poured out from them, twisting and turning. He looked up at her eyes aflame like the boy's. She had magic.
Disconcerted, he concentrated on the parchment. The lines pouring forth were connecting, forming a picture of an empty room save for a bed on one side, but an odd one. It had wheels. A young man appeared on it, restrained across his chest and manacled at the wrists and ankles as well. Arthur spoke breathlessly. "Merlin?"
Marg lifted her hand away and muttered words Arthur had come to recognize as the language of magic. The drawing she had created glowed. She took Arthur's hand gently into her smooth, thin-skinned one and placed it palm down onto the picture. Arthur gasped.
His bedroom disappeared, replaced by the room in the picture, not a drawing, but a stark reality, severely white and sterile. He blinked at a harsh light glaring from above, twisting his head to view Merlin on the other side of the room. Glancing down, he could see wheels below and guessed he rested on a bed like his friend. Merlin suddenly seized and groaned and bit his lip so hard a trickle of blood appeared. Arthur tried to call out to him but couldn't form words. His friend went still. What was this?
Then slowly, the buckles on Merlin's restraints undid themselves, and he struggled to sit up. He was clothed in a single piece of white linen that exposed most of his arms and reached to his knees. He looked haggard and worn, and he wiped at his jaw where the blood had dripped. He made to stand and crashed to his knees. Arthur meant to get up and help, but found he couldn't move. He raised his head to see himself restrained as Merlin had been. Helplessness and panic rushed through him.
Merlin breathed in and out several times, whispered to himself, and then stood. He stumbled over to Arthur and raised a shaking hand, smoothing his hair. "Margaret?" Arthur felt his head nod and tears streak his cheeks. Merlin's eyes reflected tears as well. "I'm going to get you out of here. Your father sent me. You can trust me."
Merlin's eyes glowed, and all the restraints popped free at once. Merlin took Arthur's forearm to help him stand. When he was off the bed, Merlin's arm became iron wrapped around his middle. "Come on." They staggered to a door. The vision faded.
Arthur blinked as he found himself staring at the drawing on the parchment again, eyes readjusting to the lower level of light. He panted several breaths, then looked up at Marg observing him warily. "That...that was you?"
Marg nodded. "I was fifteen. He saved me. He saved many of us. For our sake and yours, do not leave your room." She picked up her plate and left Arthur's as he hadn't finished. When Arthur heard the hallway door shut, he sank into his seat. What had Merlin been doing all these years without him?
Merlin exited the parlor. He'd been acting as nonchalant as possible as he explained his absence from the conclave. He trusted those who had come to see him, but even so, believed Arthur was safest if no one knew of his existence. His worry quickened when Marg showed up in the doorway, brows meeting in frustration, beckoning him with one finger.
"You need to talk to someone," she whispered and tromped to the kitchen. He followed her inside where a boy sat eating her scrumptious pudding. "Toby made it upstairs. He saw someone."
Merlin's heart dropped, and he slid into the seat next to the boy. "Toby."
"Yeah?" Toby licked at his spoon.
"The man you saw, he's important. And special."
"Really? Who is he?"
"I can't tell you, and you can't tell anyone you saw him."
Toby dropped the spoon. "He's a secret."
Merlin nodded.
"Is he powerful?"
Merlin tilted his head. "In a way."
Toby smiled. "I can keep secrets."
Merlin ruffled his hair. "Good boy. It's time to go. We've finished."
Toby stood and Merlin shepherded him out into the hall where the others had gathered. He bid them farewell and his shoulders collapsed in immediate relief when he shut the door. Then he turned to discover Arthur at the bottom of the stairs, piercing him with a furious gaze.
"Sorry I wasn't there when you woke," Merlin apologized, lamely.
Arthur didn't answer, but strode up to him, holding a parchment with both hands and about shoving it in Merlin's face. Oh.
"Why did she show you this?" Merlin whispered.
"The boy you just sent out the door came upstairs. He was in the armory."
Merlin chastised himself. He hadn't caught it when Toby had slipped away. The boy was too good.
"And I heard voices and your housekeeper wouldn't let me go downstairs. And then she does this." Merlin took the parchment in both hands, moving into the parlor to sit on a settee. Arthur stood on the other side of the room, arms crossed over his chest.
Merlin sighed. He'd known sometime Arthur would start inquiring into his past, he'd just been too afraid to share it, fearing telling Arthur his story would somehow awaken destiny once more and snatch these glorious days away from him.
Merlin ran a hand over his white beard. "I had to rescue her. Her father asked me to look for her. He'd always feared someone would figure out she had magic." Merlin paused to look at Arthur who stared back and motioned with a hand.
"Go on. I can tell there's more."
"Magic wasn't legal for very long," Merlin plunged on bitterly. "In Camelot for a time, and other places, but people are scared of power they can't control and over time, those of us who had it were feared once more." Merlin put a hand to his forehead. "You don't know how many were killed." His voice lowered at images and sensations recalled. "How many times I was killed."
Arthur unfolded his arms. "What?"
Merlin didn't meet his eyes. "Our enemies thought so anyway. I didn't dare use magic and confirm their fears so they'd hurt more of us. I protected those I could. We joined together, strength in numbers, and I became a sort of leader. And whenever we were caught...I gave myself up so they could flee." Merlin fixed Arthur with a resigned gaze. "I am immortal."
And Arthur suddenly understood, Merlin saw, as a hand went to his mouth, his eyes widened. "What things did they do to you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"What. Things."
Merlin swallowed hard. "Burning, drowning, sometimes torture. I don't really want to remember it." Arthur found a seat across from Merlin on a padded stool. "I wasn't captured often, and even then I escaped most of the time. I'm all right, Arthur."
Arthur cleared his throat. "Margaret?"
"I suppose it was good that people started to deny the existence of magic altogether. The hunts disappeared and we lived in peace. But it also meant we couldn't be who we are openly." Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose. "To most people now, we can't exist. They only trust what they can prove with experimentation. They don't believe in a world outside of matter. We don't fit their expectations and so, when they find us, they try to explain us away." Merlin glanced at Arthur who looked horrified. He smiled and joked to loosen the tension, "At least your father acknowledged magic was real."
Arthur gestured at the drawing in Merlin's lap. "That, then. Is that what they did to you and her because of magic?"
Merlin huffed a cynical laugh. "It doesn't take much. Tell them you can do things with your mind, that you have abilities beyond human comprehension. Now they pour medicines down your throat to forget. Back then, it was ECT. Lightning shot through your brain to make you better."
Arthur's voice broke. "Merlin."
"I'm okay. So is Marg. Her father came to me. She'd run away and he wanted me to find her. She'd been thrown into that place, and I went in to get her out. It didn't go as I'd planned. Got caught and questioned and subjected to ECT. It rattled my magic, but couldn't stop me. I got her out of there."
"And she's been with you since then?"
"Her father was dying. He asked me to take her with me and protect her. So I did."
"You're like her father."
"Mentor. Teacher. It was deja vu." Merlin chuckled, then caught Arthur looking at him questioningly. Oh. Well, he had to know sometime, but Merlin still wasn't sure what it might do to him. He stood and walked to the entryway, calling out. "Margaret?"
Footsteps soon sounded and the woman passed inside. "I think it's time to tell him," Merlin said. A smile lit Margaret's face. "You want to?"
"You."
Merlin turned back to his king. "You know you and I are bonded."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"You remember when I saved your son, I gave him some of my magic unintentionally." Arthur nodded again.
"Well, it stuck around. It's lost its strength with each generation, but it's still there and because it's there, when I met any of your descendants, I sensed it."
Arthur's mouth had gone dry and his voice came out hoarse. "Descendants?"
"I believe Margaret's the last. All other lines have died out. You're her great-grandfather times who knows how many, Arthur."
Arthur looked to Marg and Merlin smiled to see tears in her eyes. She rarely let emotion show like that, not unless she was with him. Arthur slowly stood. He walked up to her, staring into her eyes, then held out his hand. She took it. He bent down to kiss it. "My lady, then."
Marg laughed and the tension in the room broke. "You don't have to call me that."
"You have royal blood. My own. I will."
Marg looked at Merlin. "Don't know if I can get used to that...Master."
Merlin groaned.
Arthur spent the rest of the day talking to Margaret, fascinated with her history and that of those who came before her. Her family was a spiritual lot, willing to see beyond the physical realm, and accepted their magic as a gift, but recognized the importance of secreting it from those who feared it. Then Merlin came along, happenstance bringing him into contact with her father, and the Pendragon blood was obvious to him. He became a fast friend of her father's. She had run away the year before, a youth confused about magic and what it meant for her. She regretted lashing out at her father and taking off, in her naivety thinking striking out on her own would solve all her problems. After her rescue, she spent her days at Merlin's side, learning the ins and outs of magic.
When Arthur prepared for bed, he ruminated, head swimming, but pleased. It hadn't even occurred to him he'd have descendants in this modern world, but of course, it was only logical. And Marg was such a good woman, too. He was more than proud, beaming like a grandfather who'd just met his first infant grandchild. He was puckering his lips to blow out the candle when Merlin appeared in the doorway.
"I wish you'd told me sooner," Arthur chastised lightly.
Merlin in his younger form interpreted his statement as an invitation to enter and wandered to the bed, leaning against one of the bedposts. "I thought it might scare you."
"You thought I'd be scared?"
Merlin chuckled. "I wanted you and her to get to know each other before I sprung it on you. Is that better?"
"Mm," Arthur assented, laying back and yawning. "So were those other people that were here today people you've rescued?"
"No."
"Then who were they?"
Merlin worried his lip. "I might still be the leader of an organization. Well, not anymore. Adviser only. I gave over direct leadership when you showed up."
Arthur sat back up. "You're...I thought...you'd just traveled sometimes and lived here. Recently anyway."
Merlin laughed and rubbed at his eyes. "I've rarely just sat around waiting for you."
"Maybe not, but...it's just...it seems something you should mention that you're involved in some secret sorcerers alliance."
Merlin lowered his hand. "Arthur, I have something to tell you. I'm involved in some secret sorcerers alliance."
Arthur reached for a pillow, but Merlin raised both hands. "I'm old. Remember?"
"Not right now," Arthur pointed out, but let the pillow drop. "So what does your little group do?"
"Support each other. Aid those who discover their magic. Try to live good lives amongst a people that would be terrified of us if they knew."
Arthur's heart sank. "So you're right back where you used to be."
Merlin pushed off the bedpost. "I'm not. Because you know and you accept me. That's all I ever needed."
Arthur replayed Marg's memory, Merlin seizing and shaking, having been essentially tortured. A different way maybe, but a possibly similar result if he'd ever been caught in Camelot. "You risked everything coming to Camelot and even so, vowed to be my servant until the day you died." Merlin nodded. Arthur stood and held out his arm. Merlin cocked his head, but gripped his wrist. Arthur curled his own fingers around Merlin's. "It's my turn. I vow to protect you and walk beside you until the day I die."
Merlin coughed, letting go and wiping at his eyes. "You don't have―"
"I do, Merlin. I do."
Merlin waved at the bed without looking at him. "Go to bed."
Arthur smiled, slipping inside the sheets. As Merlin walked away, he queried a sudden thought. "Do you have any descendants?"
Merlin paused, not looking back. "Maybe."
"Merlin."
"You've already met one."
"The boy?"
"Huh?"
"The one that wandered away during your advisory meeting."
"No. Not him. A woman."
Arthur thought back. He only knew... "Marg is related to both of us?"
Merlin snickered. "No, but that would be interesting." He looked back over his shoulder.
And then it hit Arthur⸻the only other modern person he'd come into contact with. "The girl at the lake."
"Elaine."
"Does she know?"
Merlin shook his head. "And I don't intend her to. It's not exactly good to be related to the warlock Emrys."
"Why?"
Merlin headed to the doorway. "Can you imagine living up to to the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth?"
Arthur laughed loudly. "What about the legendary King Arthur?"
"People like me better."
"The legends aren't named after you!" Arthur shouted.
Merlin guffawed in the hallway, and if he said something back, it was swallowed up by the closing of the hallway door.
