I am sooo sorry for the wait; school has actually been helping my muse a lot, and I've had most of this sitting in a notebook for a while, but I just typed two thousand words of this tonight. It's not a particularly long update, but hopefully the content makes up for it. :) And chapter eleven is almost complete.
Milestones: 100 reviews! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who contributed to that! I've looked at them each individually, not just as a number, and I couldn't be happier to read what people have said! And this is my tenth chapter, which is making me all emotional.
So. I think we all know what happens tomorrow (or today, technically, for some). Couple of points to hit on; one, the BBC's previews have made it clearly that this story couldn't possibly fit into Season 3 canon, which I'm totally okay with, since I always assumed as much. I just want to assure readers that nothing in the season will influence future chapters in any way. Which brings me to point two, which is that I live in America with only local channels, so my viewing of every episode will be delayed. Please don't mention any spoilers in reviews! I'll be looking everywhere online tomorrow to try and find a place to watch it. I would not be averse to a link if anyone finds it before I do! ;D
And I'll end this epically long author's note by saying: enjoy!
Chapter Ten: The Discovery
"There you are," said Gaius, allowing Sir Cadwin to regain ownership of his freshly bandaged arm. "Be sure not to strain it over the next few days. No training exercises," he added with a meaningful look at Arthur. The prince nodded once, and Cadwin left, looking put out.
"I can try my best to stop him, but there's no guarantee he'll listen," Arthur pointed out. "He's as obedient as any other knight, but still headstrong and eager to prove he's invincible. He'll learn."
Gaius snorted. "If he tries to wield a sword with that arm, he'll learn quickly." Arthur winced, remembering a time before he understood that some pains shouldn't be ignored purely for the sake of ignoring them. On the battlefield, a knight had to grit his teeth and bear whatever injuries he suffered. Practice, on the other hand, could be put off.
That wasn't to say he never foolishly ignored Gaius's warnings, but he liked to pretend those instances didn't happen.
"This... Farwolaeth," Arthur began after a pause, stumbling over the pronunciation of such an unfamiliar word. "Have you heard of it before? Do you know of a way to kill it?"
"Neither, I'm afraid. The book says they are rare, and as for killing it, it would be impossible to do without knowing how to prevent it from accessing its healing powers. Magic may be necessary to do so."
Arthur frowned; it always came down to that, didn't it? Magic, dangerous and wrong and illegal as it was, tended to be the only solution to stopping creatures like this. So Gaius said, anyway, but Lancelot had defeated the griffin, and he himself had destroyed afancs and dragons, and his father had killed a wraith. All were things Gaius promised wouldn't be harmed by conventional means, but all had died by them in the end.
No doubt this Farwolaeth thing was the same. He'd have liked to see any creature live through swift decapitation, healing powers or not.
"I hope you're not planning anything," Gaius warned suddenly, realizing why Arthur might have asked such a question. "Your father doesn't want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger, and nor do I. You can't revive him by slaying his killer. Any more than I could revive him by learning what that killer was," he added, catching Arthur's indignant expression.
"He wouldn't act this way if someone he cared about had been the one to die," Arthur pointed out hotly. "It's not worth it for a servant, but if someone like Morgana-"
He broke off abruptly, as if he only just realized what he was saying. His mouth clamped shut, and he tried to ignore Gaius's pitying face. Where had that come from? He tried to avoid the awkward topic known as Morgana. Mentioning her in front of Uther was a bad mistake, so he quit mentioning her altogether. What knights and guards they could spare were out looking for her constantly, and he had joined them once or twice, but he was needed at the castle, especially to provide morale after the dragon attack.
"It must be difficult for you, losing two friends so close together," Gaius acknowledged gently.
"I'm not the only one. You've known Morgana for longer than I have, and Merlin... he was your nephew. You've more right to be upset than I do."
Gaius gazed at him sadly. "You've got more reason to be upset than even you know, or ever will know, perhaps." Arthur blinked, unsure how to respond to this. Enigmatic statements did not sit will with the prince.
The old man sat down at his work desk and began shuffling through countless vials, some full, some not. Arthur couldn't find any other excuse to linger in the physician's chambers, so he bade goodbye and moved for the door.
He was halfway through it when the sight of his own name caught his attention.
Curious, because Gaius had no reason to have a scroll with his name on it, Arthur moved to get a closer look. Shadows hid the first few words, so he took the small scroll from shelf and into the light.
In large, crafty black letters, it said quite plainly, "TO BE READ BY PRINCE ARTHUR PENDRAGON ONLY." There was no seal to suggest who might have sent it; a plain beige string of rope tied it shut. There was one small marking, so unintelligible he thought it must have been an accident.
And this letter, addressed clearly and directly to him, was mysteriously in the possession of the court physician.
"Gaius?" The old man looked up from the assortment of bottles and squinted to see what he was holding. "What is this?" He brought it nearer.
The physician's eyes lit with recognition and grew wide almost simultaneously. He shot out of his chair, faster than Arthur thought he was capable of moving. Two vials rolled over the table's edge and made contact with the floor. One shattered. "That's not for you," he said desperately, trying to wrench it from Arthur's grasp, but the prince had been training his reflexes since birth and dodged out of the way with ease.
"Obviously it is," Arthur countered dryly, underlining the title with his finger. "Prince Arthur Pendragon. Only. What if this concerns an urgent matter?" He glared suspiciously. "You haven't read it, have you?"
"Of course I haven't," Gaius assured firmly. "But sire, you must understand, it is for your faster that I have kept it from you. I don't believe the sender is any friend to Camelot, and if it puts you in danger-"
"How long have you kept it from me?"
Gaius did not answer at first, and it took an irritated huff from Arthur to convince him to do so at all. "Three days," he admitted quietly.
"Three days?" Arthur repeated in a dangerous voice. "You've hidden this letter from me for three days, not knowing for certain that it doesn't contain valuable information? What if one of the outlying villages is in trouble? What if someone's seen Morgana?" He'd been angry before, and he'd directed that anger toward his subjects innumerable times, but rarely had Gaius been on the receiving end. Usually Gaius calmed him down.
"I told you, I fear this letter may be dangerous-"
"Well, there's no harm in opening it, is there?" Arthur said snidely, and untied the scroll before Gaius could stop him.
Arthur Pendragon, it began.
I apologize for the forwardness of my letter, but it is rather pointless to dabble in pleasantries when we both know this matter is, in fact, unpleasant.
With that said, let us not delay in proceeding to the issue at hand. You, Arthur Pendragon, are going to come alone to the forest in the north, which as I'm sure you are well aware has been plagued by a vicious creature as of late. That creature belongs to me.
Arthur couldn't believe anyone could claim ownership over such a vicious beast. This man was clearly full of himself if he thought he could control it.
Travel further north and slightly to the east, and within the forest you will find a glade. This is where I will be.
If you are wondering why I expect you to simply give yourself up, wonder no more; your servant has gotten quite an earful of your private discussions with the king. He knows many secrets, and has agreed to pass them on... but there will be no need for that if you arrive here, alone, in three days' time, before sunset. Earlier, if you wish, but that is my deadline.
Consider what's in it for you. You can kill the servant upon arrival, eliminating his threat to the kingdom. And if you're truly as arrogant as stories would suggest, perhaps you even have a chance to eliminate me. If you had not surmised as much, I am magical - though the words you would use do not apply to me. I am no mere sorcerer, and I beg you not to mistake me as such, for that would be the greatest offense.
I expect to see you soon.
Arawn
The room was so deathly silent, they could've heard a feather drop in the courtyard. Arthur, barely breathing, holding the thin piece of parchment at arm's length and staring straight through it, not daring to believe its message. Gaius, blinking at the prince, waiting patiently to hear what a sorcerer had to say to Arthur.
When Arthur finally remember where he was and who was with him, he wordlessly handed the letter to Gaius. He felt mildly dizzy, and leaned on the shelf for support, the same shelf that had shielded this news from him for days.
He could tell when Gaius finished from the stunned look on his face. "He's alive," he murmured in shock, testing the words to see if they sounded truer out loud. "He - I can't believe I-" He wandered absently to a chair and lowered himself down, knocking over yet another vial. It was a wonder he had enough left to store his remedies.
Arthur experienced a whole rush of things he couldn't name. One thing he knew for sure, the man who wrote this letter was a liar. He knew Merlin... didn't he? Hadn't Merlin drunk poison so he wouldn't have to, followed him into battles he didn't have to fight, traveled with him on quests where neither were guaranteed to return?
There was no way he would turn traitor after all that. There had to be more to this than what the letter said. If anything Merlin might have made a false promise in hopes that he would come to the rescue. That sounded far more likely.
"Gaius," he said suddenly, an awful realization dawning on him. "You said you've had this for three days now?"
"Yes, sire." It took a moment for the implications to sink in. "The letter... that's tonight!" He sprang into action, snatching the bottles still on the table and sorting through them hastily. "Here," he said, thrusting two tiny vials into the prince's hand. "One is to stop infection, the other will help with pain. It doesn't matter which you give him first."
"How do you know he's going to be injured?"
"You said yourself that the beast wounded him with its claws!"
"Oh." Arthur's brain felt muddled and dazed. Nothing made sense, except that her had to get to Merlin, and he had to get to Merlin tonight. Before sunset on this third day.
He dashed down the stairs and yelled for the nearest servant to bring him his sword and armor. It didn't need to be said that he wanted them quickly; his frantic command implied it.
He waited in Gaius's chambers, pacing back and forth and mentally strategizing. It was a fruitless activity, as he didn't know what to expect from Arawn the sorcerer-who-didn't-like-to-be-called-that, but it helped to calm his mind. Gaius watched him somberly.
"Sire, I beg you not to go alone," he implored after a few minutes of nothing but Arthur's pacing. "Take some knights with you. Do not head into danger with no means of getting back out of it."
The servant boy stuck his head in the door, arms laden with Arthur's sword and complete armor set, except for the breastplate. "I'm sorry, my lord, it was too much to carry all at once. I can go back and-"
"No, don't bother." He motioned for the boy to dress him, speaking overtop his head. "There's no time, Gaius. I can't search for another knight willing to go, and I definitely can't wait for one to get ready. I'll be cutting it close as it is."
"Sire," Gaius started to protest, but Arthur was already through the door and racing down the wooden steps before he could say more, scabbard swinging wildly at his side until he slowed enough to sheath his sword.
Everyone he passed stared in bewilderment. It was becoming a common occurrence to see the crown prince racing through the corridors, but as far as they knew, there was no urgent matter at hand. Once upon a time, he mightn't have hurried to the rescue of a servant, much less Merlin, but time and experiences had changed that. He'd humbled enough to learn that stations didn't define a person, going so far as to befriend a servant and fall in love with another.
The stable boy jogged beside him in the stalls, promising he could have Arthur's favorite horse ready in almost no time at all. Arthur had no time at all, no almost about it, and led the mare out of her stall with nothing but a beckoning hand and some encouragement. Bridle, stirrups, and reins the hand, the stable boy stood dismayed as the prince mounted the horse's bare charcoal back and jabbed her into motion.
Fierce wind whipped and whistled against his armor, through his hair, against his face the moment he exited the stables. His midnight steed would, with luck, soak up enough dying sunlight to guard it from chills. Arthur was fine, clad as he was in fine clothing and armor.
It hit him full blast that this was it, his one and only chance to reverse the awful circumstances of the last week and bring Merlin back to Camelot, alive and safe. If he succeeded, they lived in peace until the next inevitable adventure. If he failed, he'd have lost his friend forever.
His horse reared unexpectedly, and he had to cling to her mane for dear life. Someone stood in their way, cloak whipping wildly and leather-gloved hands on hips.
It was his father, looking like he knew very well what he was intercepting.