Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to BBC. And the songs used, and occasional quote belong to Disney and whoever wrote the script and lyrics.
Notes: I AM SO SORRY! Really so very sorry! I just have five more days until Uni finishes and then I will finish these stories and start on the next ones on my list xD
Again so sorry.
Twitter: ToniBohr
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Chapter seven:
"But what chance would a poor misshapen child like you have against her heathen treachery? Well, never mind Quasimodo. She will be out of our lives soon enough. I will free you from her evil spell. She will torment you no longer." – Frollo
In the quiet moment after Merlin's departure, Arthur simply let his mind wander to unimportant places – nothing too strenuous, just blank, plain places. Places where there was no magic, no arrows, no kisses and no Uther Pendragon.
Merlin. Arthur didn't quite know what to do with him. Not past the heated, glimpsing thoughts that flocked and fled through his brain, especially after that kiss – that invitation. Even now, a while after Merlin had disappeared, Arthur could feel the petal-soft lips against his own, could still scrape a ghost of Merlin's taste from his bottom lip if he so wished.
Magic. Arthur stared down at his hands. Magic created him and broke him in the same moment, long before his consciousness was even developed. And yet Merlin, Merlin dances and play and smiles with Magic – he makes it come alive in beauty and pleasure, the joy spread in redness across his cheeks as he performs for the peasantry and nobility alike.
Arthur sighed and settled back against his pillow. His chest ached dully from the wound and his mind was racing with all these thoughts and feelings and really, he just wanted to sleep then speak again with Merlin.
He had been resting his eyes for only a few moments, when Gaius popped his head in.
"Arthur," he said without preamble. His expression was wearied and worn, as if he had aged terribly since a few hours previous. "You're father has arrived. I told him a choirboy had been on his way home and had found you. He'll be up soon."
Arthur closed his eyes once more, sighing before opening them and nodding. "Thank you Gaius."
The archdeacon just smiled. "I do not make the habit of lying, but I think the Lord shall forgive me." With another sad sort of smile, Gaius left.
Arthur had little time to ponder this statement, or to process the fact that his father was in the cathedral, before his father was standing in the same room. There was a pregnant silence, it weighed down on Arthur as if it were a stone about his shoulders.
His father stared at him with dark eyes. Never had the man looked so majestic. Never had he looked so terrible. His face, smooth and clean cut was that of the warrior king, his eyes hard as diamonds and judging, mouth thin with derision or placidity, Arthur wasn't sure. The man's broad shoulders and spine was straight and strong – Uther looked every bit the judge he was, and Arthur felt that his own judgement had not yet finished.
Arthur lifted his chin a little in defiance, and his fathers' face seemed to soften and settle. Arthur didn't trust it.
"My son," Uther breathed, head shaking a little as he stepped closer to the cot Arthur was tucked up in. Those ice-eyes glanced down to the wrapping around Arthur's chest and he closed his eyes briefly. Arthur would like to think something like regret flickered across his father's face. "I'm sorry."
Uther approached the bed, and settled on the side, turning his face to gaze upon his son. "I should have recognised the signs."
Arthur frowned. "The signs," he ventured cautiously. He ignored the apology.
Uther nodded, hands clasped in his lap. "I have seen them before, on your mother." Uther's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "The gypsies have an intimate relationship with magic, and wield it like you a sword. It is a weapon, and they use it to twist the mind of innocents.
"I do not blame you, son," Uther assured. "The gypsy has his claws in you. He has poisoned you against me, against your good senses. I do not blame you for your treachery – it is yet another crime upon the head of that gypsy.
"They cannot be trusted, Arthur. They lie and cheat and dance with devils. They are devils."
Arthur stared up at his father, biting back comments at the man's' bitter vitriol. He wanted to snap and spit that Merlin was not a devil, he was not something evil and Arthur was not twisted. Arthur was not under a spell – magic did not trick him.
But he didn't.
"You are weak against gypsy magic," Uther continued, heedless of his sons' struggle. "You have been at the wars, and this is a battle you are unfamiliar with. But no matter," Uther said. Those eyes skim Arthur again.
"I am thankful to see you faring well."
Arthur snorted, and winced at the jolt to his injury. "I would have been better without the arrow to the chest and fall into the river."
Uther looked unapologetic. "I did what I had to," he said. "It shall not need happen again, however, the gypsy will be found soon and you released eternally from his clutches.
Arthur straightened, and Uther observed the movement with a vindicated expression. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, the gypsy will no longer be an issue for you, soon enough. I will protect my family."
"You shot me!"
"A necessary evil," Uther counted, standing and gazing down at his son. "One that will not have to be repeated after tomorrow."
Cold dread creeps down Arthur's spine like a bead of sweat. "What?" his voice was little more than a croak.
The smile on Uthers face was chilling – it was cruel. Arthur had only seen such a smile when his father sentenced murderers, a dark kind of delight, as if his father relished delivering the news. Those eyes glinted and Arthur swallowed, fearing his fathers' next words.
"I have located the Court of Miracles, the nest where these gypsies hide," Uther answered with ill disguised satisfaction. "At dawn I shall attack with a thousand men. The gypsy boy shall not escape and you shall be troubled by him no longer."
"but- Father-?"
"Hush now. Arthur," Uther said in gentle tone he remembered from his childhood. "All will be well. Rest, you need your strength." Uther squeezed his shoulder lightly before taking his leave.
Arthur himself was panicking. The Court of Miracles had been spoken about in the same measure as myths and legends – a story talking of a gypsy sanctuary spread out within the catacombs beneath the city. The tunnels that twist and curve were a maze to all, many a soldier apparently getting lost in a quest to find the heart of the gypsies.
His father had chased it for years.
And now it had been found.
Merlin!"
Arthur chucked the covers away from him, air escaped in a hiss through clenched teeth as he stood, determined to get to Merlin. He was stepping out of the door when Gaius rushed up to him.
"Stupid boy!" He reprimands, trying to shoo Arthur back inside the room. "Just what do you think you are doing?"
"I have to find Merlin!" Arthur argued, struggling weakly against Gaius's clasping hands and surprising strength as he was bundled back to bed. "My father said-"
"Arthur, please –!"
"My father has found the Court of Miracles!"
Gaius stilled. "That is not possible."
"It is," Arthur insisted, ignoring the pain firing through his system. "He said he has found it and at dawn he will attack with a thousand men."
Gaius closed his eyes. "I will send word –"
"That won't be quick enough and you know it. I have to find him, Gaius. I have to find him and warn him, warn all of them."
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "You think you can find him quicker than I could get word to him? Both would take time, the gypsies, and Merlin especially, are so very good at concealing themselves, at not being found. It's in their very nature to be visible only when they want to be." Gaius almost sounded fond.
Arthur deflated, fingers coming to tap absently at the necklace hanging around his chest, underneath his shirt. "I need to find him."
"I know. We will get word to him –"
Arthur was shaking his head. "It won't be quick enough though. I just –" Arthur stopped, hand slipping past he neckline of his own shirt to grasp the woven pendant.
It held it for a few seconds. Then his eyes widened.
"Wait!" Gaius stared at him curiously as Arthur ripped the pendant from about his head and gazed at it. "Merlin gave me his, promised safety if I were to use it." He studied the pendant, and its simple design, holding it by the leather straps so that Gaius, too, could see it.
"Arthur!" The blond looked up from his study at Gaius' breathless tone of amazement. "Do you know what this is? Even I do not possess such an item, friend as I am..."
Gaius looked up and smiled a smile far too mischievous for a man of the cloth. "I really do think finding Merlin should be easier than expected," he explain cryptically, whilst his fingers brushed along the side of the pendent. "Much easier."
"It's a map! See, here's the cathedral, and the river..." – Quasimodo
