(10) Preparation

"–And get that new scabbard from the tanner. I'm going to go see my father. And Merlin?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Get some sleep. It's going to be a long next few days."

Merlin hurried off, grateful, for once, for the chores. He needed to think.

Niniane's army would be upon them in five days. Arthur needed that sword. But what then? Arthur was just one man –the knights as a whole would be overwhelmed by the wraith warriors. Their blows, save for Arthur's, would be futile, and how long could Arthur last as the last man alive on the field of battle, faced with most of an army? There had to be another way.

Merlin set Arthur's armor down in the customary corner of his room where he polished it. It was a bit eccentric-looking to take the armor home with him, but this way no one but Gaius knew that he polished half of it with magic.

Magic. Niniane had magic on her side…but so did Arthur, for all that Merlin had to work in secret. There had to be a magical way, other than the sword, to stop the army.

Merlin paused in his polishing. What if he broke the summoning spell? That would do it, but it would be easier said than done. The spell on the King's Stone was a continuous type of spell, constantly refreshing itself from Niniane's powers. In theory, if she were injured or killed…

Merlin's mouth went dry. Kill Niniane to save Arthur? What a choice! There had to be another way. He could cast a spell to immobilize the warriors, or Niniane herself. That would, however, require him being on the field of battle, exposing his magic for all to see. For Arthur to see.

"This is ridiculous," Merlin muttered. "I call him my best friend and I don't have the guts to tell him that I'm a sorcerer. Will knew." If he considered Arthur a friend, he owed it to him to reveal his magic. He owed it to Arthur to do whatever he could to help, whatever the cost. If he died, if Arthur couldn't understand, then so be it.

So be it.

"You wanted to see me, father?"

"Yes, Arthur." Uther looked up from the parchment on which he was writing. "Come in. Sit."

Arthur sat, and waited.

"You must forgive me. I do not need anything. I am sure you have more useful things to do, but I just wanted to spend some time with my son, before…before."

"I'm glad," said Arthur. They sat in silence a while, both thinking. "An army of dead men!" Arthur said suddenly. "How do you kill the dead? Camelot will be sieged until it falls apart."

Uther sighed. "It has been heavily on my mind as well."

"How did you kill Tristan du Bois?" Arthur asked. "Merlin said he was a wraith. And I still haven't gotten over the fact that you drugged me so that you could fight him instead of me."

"I do not know. I used your sword –I am grasping at straws here, but I used your sword."

"What, this one?"

"No, the sword I used was a hand-and-a-half long, not one." Uther closed his eyes. "The channel was almost the full length of the blade, and the blade was full tang into the hilt. A simple crosspiece, with a leather and wire bound grip and a coin shaped pommel. It had… an inscription on it, if I recall correctly. On one side of the blade it read 'Take Me Up' and on the other 'Cast Me Away'"

"You have a good memory, father."

"It was a very fine sword." The longing was evident in his voice. "Mine could not match it."

"A very fine sword which I do not own!" said Arthur, half-laughing, half exasperated.

"And yet, Merlin insisted it was yours. He was extremely reluctant to let me touch it."

Arthur frowned. "Merlin."

"Your manservant seems to have an answer –or be an answer to almost everything."

"Mmm. It gets rather annoying sometimes."

"You should go to bed, Arthur."

"I should." Arthur rose. "Is that–" He snatched up a small cup from Uther's writing desk and sniffed it. "This is one of Gaius' remedies. It has poppy in it. Are you in pain, father?"

"It's nothing," said Uther swiftly. "But Arthur –never forget that I am proud of you. You will make a fine king of Camelot."

"Thank you," said Arthur quietly. He slipped out the door, and Uther returned to his letter.

My Dear Arthur,

I write this to you as we are about to face one of the greatest perils we have ever faced as father and son. It is high time you knew the truth, for…

Merlin stared at the supple leather scabbard in his hands, apparently lost in thought. This would be the scabbard for Arthur's sword, for Excalibur. I can't talk my way out of this one, can I, Kilgharrah? said Merlin in his mind. Arthur has to be there when I get the sword. He has to know the truth –he deserves to know the truth. But first, this scabbard…

"Don't."

"What?" Merlin started and looked at Gaius.

"Don't. I know that look. You're thinking about doing something to that scabbard, probably something magical, probably something very unhealthy."

"I was thinking of putting a ward on it."

"Oh." Gaius looked surprised for a moment. "What kind of ward?"

Merlin smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "This one. Beo nied freonlufu be amundan Artur Pen-dragon fram daru." The smile was genuine now as Merlin's eyes flashed gold. "There." His knees buckled.

"Merlin!" Gaius caught him halfway to the floor, and half dragged him to a chair. "Didn't anyone teach you that wards are dangerous? Especially when they are so close to your heart. Even I caught the meaning of that –be bound in friendship to protect Arthur Pendragon from injury? Was that a spell on yourself or on the scabbard?"

"You're my teacher," Merlin reminded him gently.

"Hmph. Drink this."

Merlin drank. "Ew."

"Your fault," said Gaius. "Foolishness always tastes bitter."

Merlin stood. "Maybe it does. I have to go find Arthur. Gaius." He clasped the old man's hands. "Thank you. For everything. You are my uncle, but you've been a father, a teacher, and just…thanks." He hugged the physician, and walked away swiftly.

Gaius Ambrosius sat in the chair his nephew had just vacated, feeling a single salty tear get lost among his wrinkles. That had not been a thank-you.

It had been a farewell.

AN: The plot thickens. Merlin plans to reveal his magic, and something is wrong with Uther Pendragon...my apologies to anyone who knows anything about swords: my description of Excalibur was pulled off the top of my head.