Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
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The dream ate away at him. Knowing that Merlin had been that unfaithful, that she had been unsatisfied by him, it unnerved him greatly. Part of him was happy that the babe was not associated with him; the other half wondered what it would have been like if the child she bore was sired by him. The worst part was that he realized she had never lied to him. Merlin never told him the child was his, just that she was pregnant. She never said that Saoirse was his daughter, him in his ego just assumed. Everything seemed to make more sense now. Saoirse hated him, how the girls all tiptoed around her, Mordred's possessive behavior. Everything was so complicated. Now more than ever he wanted Merlin back.
Wanted her back.
Saoirse was a necromancer and specialized in séances.
He left the safety of his chambers in armor of silks and gold. He approached the chambers where Saoirse slept. Once he found it empty, he checked the rooms of the other girls and found them in a similar state. It wasn't until he approached Mordred's door that he heard the voices. He knocked with as much force as he could muster, and Raelyn answered the door. The girl was still dressed in leggings and a night shirt, blinking up at him through mussed curls. Once her bleary blue eyes saw him fully, they chilled and hardened.
"What do you want?"
"Only to talk, to all of you, and your Master." The fact that Arthur referred to Mordred as the Master stunned Raelyn alone. He was always reluctant about the relationship Mordred had with his daughters, but Arthur had to talk to them. Raelyn allowed him in. Mordred was dressed along with the oldest and youngest of the girls. Hunith was still changing.
Arthur sat before them, trying to be regal and proper but approachable. Freya sat on a chair next to Mordred, who has Saoirse on his lap. Hunith, now dressed stood behind her sister's chair, her fingers gently resting on the wood. Raelyn and Agatha stood by, Morrighan resting on Raelyn's shoulder, preening her feathers. After several moment of tense silence, Freya tentatively broke it.
"What can we do for you, Father?"
"Saoirse, she's a necromancer."
"We know."
"I merely wished to know, if she ever contacted Mer-, your mother." He felt referring to her so personally would have consequences.
"She can't, Mother is too high." Hunith mumbled.
"High?"
"Mother was a higher being than any other. She was magic incarnate. If Mother wished, she could have torn the world apart and built a new one in a day. She was like a god. And because of that, her place after death is too high for Saoirse to reach yet. She'd spoke with Grandmother, and recently was able to contact Grandfather. Based on your own existence, it decides how far up you are after death. And this only a guess, none of us truly know what waits beyond the grave." Hunith recited.
"I can't talk to Mother, if I could, I would." She sounded almost annoyed.
"I see."
"Why do you insist on pursuing us? We were raised as Master's daughters; we have no need for you."
"Because you girls are all I have left." Raelyn let loose a bark of laughter.
"What about your wife, what about your precious heirs? Do they mean nothing to you anymore?"
"Don't you care for our brothers too?" Hunith added timidly.
"I do, but, they aren't Merlin's children."
"You have no right to say things like that. You're the one who decided you loved Guinevere and married her." Mordred stated.
"It was a mistake."
"You made your bed; you should have lain in it." Mordred shot back.
"Father, Master, please, not in front of the little ones." Freya attempted.
"I'm hardly little, Elder Sister." Saoirse snapped.
"You're little enough to not have to deal with unpleasant things."
"My mother died giving birth to me and my magic allows me to see nothing but death, my existence is unpleasant." An uncomfortable silence followed, at which Mordred stroked her hair.
"You are not unpleasant my little cuckoo bird. We all love you dearly."
"They say there is nothing stronger than family love, and it is blind."
"You shouldn't say such things cuckoo bird."
"Yes Father."
"Forgive me for my intrusion." Arthur started to get up but Agatha rushed over to him and grabbed his sleeve.
"What's all this about….?" She meant to say his name, to address him, but found that she could not decide what she should call him.
"Nothing you girls should worry about. I miss your mother dearly, that's all." He said, barely above a whisper.
"Why do you insist on claiming us? We haven't been yours, ever."
"I was raised with only after to call family he would have done anything for me. He started a war against magic because he thought it would keep me safe. My family was almost entirely wiped out, I learned to value what little I had no matter what. I cared deeply for Morgana, even after her death. She was still my sister and cousin." Arthur explained.
"It's foolish to love and trust those who betray you." Arthur's eyebrow twitched.
"I never said I trusted those who betrayed me, only loved them." Raelyn stepped back.
"I still care for you girls, you are my daughters, you are the daughters of my most trusted friend. I will always love you for that, no matter what you do."
"Even me, King Arthur." All thought stopped when Saoirse boldly stated that. Arthur was wiser enough not answer at first.
"Do you hate me, for reminding you that Merlin was never fully yours as you wished her to be?"
"Do you hate me for saying what is true no matter how it hurts you?"
"Or do you hate me for seeing the truth?" Arthur actually backed up. When witches were extraordinarily upset or angry, their aura pushed you away subconsciously. Nothing touched him, but the feeling she gave off made him want to hide under the covers.
"What truth?" The girl's face twisted into a grim smile. It was far too wicked for the face of a child, but she was Mordred's daughter after all.
"Elder Sister, he still doesn't know the truth."
"Saoirse." Freya warned.
"He doesn't know, he hasn't a clue."
"Seya." Hunith hissed curtly.
"He can't see a truth that a little eight year old girl can." She cackled, skipping gleefully in a circle. Now even Mordred looked apprehensive.
"Don't."
"You don't even know that our mother was murdered!" Arthur's world came crashing down around him.
"Good Morning girls!" Gwaine's voice puncture the tense atmosphere with its cheery nature.
Sir Gwaine had timing if nothing else.
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Arthur threw his dresser over and everything on it crashed. He gripped a bedpost and nearly collapsed, holding on the fabric on his chest. He couldn't believe it. Arthur couldn't remember leaving the room with his daughters, he couldn't remember the journey to his own chambers. All he could see was red. Who would dare murder his Merlin, and how? She was an immortal, or as close as a human would get. Gods, it was like she had died all over again. Mordred described her as a god to her kin. Who would want her dead? Then his thoughts flew back to the incident from days ago, how Saoirse pointed at Gwen and kept insisting it was her, whatever it meant. At the time it had meant nothing to him. Now it meant everything. Who else hated Merlin? Gwen had everything at her disposal.
Merlin was Arthur's mistress. Gwen hated that fact, hated Merlin, hated her bastards. Gwen was the one who wanted Merlin gone most. He remembered distinctly how subtle she tried to be about being smug after the departure of the girls. He remembered how only a few days before now, Saoirse was pointing at Gwen saying it was her. It had meant nothing to Arthur then but now everything made sense, Gwen's words, Freya's shock and the disdain Saoirse held for Gwen. Was it true? Did Gwen really murder the poor girl? God, he wanted nothing more than to go out and avenge his lover's death. But Gwen made things complicated. Arthur had wedded her, ignorant and unwilling to accept his truth emotions toward the clumsy maidservant. He made his choice too early, and because of that, everyone suffered; especially Merlin and Gwen. Gwen was his wife, he had wronged her, but she turned around and blamed everything on Merlin.
Murdered.
Killed.
Deprived of life.
If it had been Gwen who took Merlin away, Arthur was unsure what he would do. Gwen was still queen, and although Merlin had been favored over her during life, Merlin was now absent. There wasn't a single person who could say Gwen was entirely unjustified either. Any jilted lover or cuckolded spouse would be on her side. Still, Merlin had been well loved by the commoners and adored by the magic users. Arthur knew in the dark of night and the softest of whispers, she was considered the true queen of Camelot, the rightful queen. He also knew some petitioned that his daughter should be the heir, not his sons. But any fears of revolt were unfounded. As much as his younger girls disliked him, they were unshakably loyal as their mother was. And frankly, they had no interest in the throne.
"They can never be yours Arthur, they are only mine."
He remembered trying to convince her to allow him to acknowledge the girls. Merlin shook her head and told him no, never. Arthur wondered how much she knew on her deathbed, how much she didn't tell him. Did Merlin know someone was murdering her? Probably, but she was too sweet to fight it. Or perhaps she was too tired to fight, so many years of dodging rumors and scornful glances. No, that's not right; Merlin would never leave her daughters unprotected if she could help it. Perhaps she knew the events of everything. Perhaps her death was just a sick punishment on him. Perhaps Merlin meant to turn his girls against him, make him lose everything as he had taken from her.
No, that couldn't be right; Merlin wasn't cruel, not like him.
All he could do was lie on the bed and cry. The festering, half-healed wound left by Merlin's death had been ripped open and had felt as though salt had been poured into it. He sobbed into the sheets, begging, as if willing Merlin back into his arms would make it so. He could practically see her, a shy smile and her thick dark curls coiling on his white sheets in stark contrast. She would be naked, bare except for bed sheet and thick pieces of hair. The blanket covering just over her tail bone, her white back peeking from dark locks, she'd be laying on her belly, gazing at him, her fingers fisted into sheets and pillows. Her eyes would be half-lidded from sleep, those bright blue eyes that had captivated his mind from the day they met, staring at him and only him. He missed everything, from her strange, fresh scent that made him think of summer forests, to her somewhat awkward laugh when she was caught off guard.
Merlin his Merlin.
He missed the Merlin that would always attend foreign meetings in other kingdoms, riding beside him no matter what. More than once Merlin had trotted along on horseback, round with child. Those times, she was constantly mistaken as Arthur's queen, and every time, they would whispered to one another once learning Merlin had no husband. Arthur never cared, but he would be a fool to deny the hurt that sometimes occurred in her eyes, a hurt that would stay even as she materialized in his chambers to sleep in his bed. For a short time they belonged solely to each other, there were no Guinevere's, no destiny, no rules, just them and their love. Arthur sat up and wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the chill invading his body. Merlin had always kept him warm.
Merlin.
Merlin.
Merlin.
Merlin.
Merlin!
Arthur was going mad without her.
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Princess: This chapter was a bit tougher and it felt like I was just getting through it. I enjoyed writing about pining!Arthur. It was fun. Arthur's thick skull is beginning to be penetrated by the truth. More fun times for this little family ahead.
Reviews:
saroura92: It is hard and insane. Because that's the way love rolls.
cheekysorcerer: I enjoy writing a more tender Mordred, so they'll be more of him.