A/N:Woah! By far some of the best feedback I've gotten so far! You guys are truly the best. I hope you're enjoying it! Have a happy New Year, all! (Aussies and New Zealanders first, I suppose. My fellow Texans and I have to wait a bit longer than y'all do. ;) Make it a good one!)
Emily sighed in satisfaction as she finally stood to her feet after hours of kneeling in the soil. Three basketfuls of carrots, potatoes and onions saluted her from the ground as if to congratulate her efforts, and a rumble from her stomach hinted at a nice pork and vegetable stew for supper. She dusted off her hands from the fresh dirt and glanced around. Such a feast was not something to keep to herself – she'd invite some of the others over for dinner. Besides, she needed help hauling in all the fresh produce – it had been a very good harvest in her small backyard garden. Seeing no one around within earshot, she walked a ways to a small house on the edge of the village. Smoke curled out of the chimney.
"Hunith?" She knocked on the wooden front door, which was cracked open. "Hunith, would you like to- Hunith?" Emily's tone changed when she stepped inside. She took in the extinguished candles and dying fire with slight concern, but it was Hunith herself that got her truly worried. Across the room the older woman was stuffing a change of clothes, a bundle of food, and what looked like a dagger inside a pack. When Hunith looked up to see Emily, her face was run with tears. "Whatever has happened?" Emily asked, pushing her plump self into the room and going toward Hunith with comforting arms.
Hunith's chin wavered precariously, but she snapped her teeth together and mustered a strong expression. "It's nothing," she said, though her voice wavered. Emily had always marveled at Hunith's strength. Obviously, it was something, but she didn't want anyone to worry about her or anything. Hunith never wanted anyone to worry, even if she worried enough for all of them combined. "I have to go to Camelot." She said suddenly, avoiding eye contact. "To Merl-" She stopped and swallowed a sob. "to my son. It's important."
Not sure what else to do, Emily nodded, but before Hunith could quite make it out the door, added: "Would you like dinner before you go?"
"No, I'm sorry," was all the woman said before she grabbed her cloak and a walking stick and was out the door. As she left, a fluttering piece of parchment caught Emily's eye, and she picked it up. A broken circle of red wax dangled off the corner, the royal crest roaring up at her in the form of a dragon. Curious, Emily unfolded it.
Hunith of Ealdor,
Your presence is requested in the court of Arthur, King of Camelot, on the twenty-second of September, no later than five hours after noon. At the aforementioned time and date, Merlin of Ealdor, also known as Emrys the Sorcerer, will be tried for his use of magic, sorcery, and enchantments within the borders of Camelot.
Pronouncement and sentencing will follow immediately.
Signed,
Geoffrey of Monmouth, secretary to King Arthur of Camelot
Emily blinked in shock. Merlin? A sorcerer? Of course, rumors had floated into Ealdor about the recent battle, but no one had really believed them. Hunith had stayed unusually quiet about the whole thing – maybe this was why. Looking back down at the letter, something else caught Emily's eye. A smaller piece of paper, stuck at the bottom of the first with a messy blob of wax. The seal hadn't been broken, so she supposed Hunith hadn't seen it. She broke it off and turned it over. In a scrawl far more messy and informal than the proceeding letter,
Hunith: Don't let Geoffrey's pomp and prattle alarm you. No harm will befall your son. I've got something in mind that I think you and he will appreciate in kind. Your arrival will be surprise gift to him from me.
Best regards,
Arthur
Well, that changed everything, Emily thought. Though she still didn't understand everything, especially how Merlin and sorcery were connected, this little hidden note changed the tone of the entire letter – and Hunith hadn't seen it.
"Hunith, wait!" Emily exclaimed, waving the letter in hand as she stepped out the door, but Hunith was nowhere to be seen. She sighed, and hoped that the woman wouldn't worry herself to bits before she reached Camelot's gates.
"Where did all this stuff come from?" Merlin asked, looking over the list of titles that Geoffrey had kindly provided him as he compiled Merlin's new library.
"Well, Merlin," Arthur's sarcasm was muffled by the edge of the couch that he was trying to shove across the room, "I didn't think I'd have to explain the process of writing to you, but-"
"I didn't mean like that," Merlin said, turning. He gestured to the list. "I mean, didn't your father have all the magical texts burned when he passed the ban on sorcery?"
Arthur grunted in agreement and stood to his feet. "He did have a great deal of them burned, yes," he said, leaning against the sofa's arm, "but not all of them. For a king who hated magic so much, my father was mildly obsessed with the stuff." Arthur nodded toward the stack of books that Merlin was slowly alphabetizing on the shelf. "He kept a copy of every magical volume he burned and kept it locked deep within our archives. I think it gave him some feeling of power over magic, as if it were the sorcerers themselves, not their work, that he was locking away." Arthur looked slightly saddened at the thought of his father, but snapped out of it quickly. "At any rate, I'm glad he kept them. They'll be all yours, now."
Merlin turned and examined the collection in awe. It'd been a week since Arthur had let him in on his intentions of promotion, and he was still reeling over the concept of his personal possession of so much stuff. He'd never had his own quarters before, let alone his own library, alchemy lab, astronomy lookout, not to mention the fluffiest four-poster bed he'd ever had the privilege to jump on, but now he had them all. They were his. His heart was constantly bursting with gratitude, and he didn't know what to do with it, so he'd developed a chronic habit of thanking Arthur. Arthur was beginning to tire of it.
"I… Thank you, Arthur." Merlin said, turning over a book in marvel, as if he hadn't expected Arthur to give it to him.
"Well you don't think I have any use of them, do you?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "I suppose the language must come with the magic, Merlin, because everything in those pages is absolute gibberish to me."
"The Old Tongue," Merlin corrected, thumbing quickly through a chapter on stunning and sleeping spells. He made a mental note to read it later. "Totally different."
Arthur didn't seem to care. "Whatever. Just throw them on the shelf and get on with it, would you? You move in here in two days, and after that I am not helping you, so if you want this place to be livable by then, you'd best stop reading and start working."
Merlin thought about helping Arthur with magic, but then… Getting to see the King break a sweat doing actual work was a refreshing change for him. He smiled as he walked by and headed downstairs.
"How're you doing, Aithusa?" Merlin peeked his head into a secondary room, and Aithusa chirred his approval from a messy conglomerance of pillows, straw, and shredded junk linens. An open window let in a breeze. Merlin had found the spare room filled with clutter, and, not knowing what to do with it, had opted to turn it into a room for Aithusa to stay in while he stayed in Merlin's care. "Good," He said, taking in the carnage and thanking the stars above that it wasn't his room. "Mind yourself, alright?" Aithusa nodded and Merlin shut the door.
The first floor was mostly filled with alchemy equipment, which Merlin had no idea how to use, along with a section of traditional healer's equipment, which Merlin did know how to use, along with a good supply of –what else- books. It was all in a complete mess, but after Merlin said a few words in the old tongue, the beakers and bowls and phials set about arranging themselves into their proper places. A duster picked up next and began cleaning all of the newly organized work stuffs. Merlin lounged on a chair and picked up an entertaining epic he'd found, taking a sick kind of enjoyment out of the pained grunts and curses that Arthur was throwing about upstairs. After the King finished whatever it was that he'd been doing, he started to march down the stairs.
"You know, for a former servant, you really are quite useless when it comes to wor-" He stopped when he entered the room. "-king." He finished in a defeated tone. After he recovered from shock at seeing dangerous chemicals, tools, and a fluffy feather duster whizzing about the room at high speeds, Arthur fixed his jaw and glared at Merlin.
"You're a right idiot, you know that?"
Merlin hardly glanced up from his book. "Really? How do you figure that this time?"
"You can do all this in minutes with magic, and yet you have me slaving about upstairs for hours with a sofa, of all things."
Merlin gave a small smile. "Consider it a well-deserved workout, Sire."
"A well deserved… Merlin! Arthur stomped forward and swatted Merlin's book away. The book fell to the floor and the warlock finally looked up at him. "Are you saying that I'm fat?"
Merlin looked hurt. "Arthur, when have I ever said that you were fat?"
Arthur began to speak, but found that he couldn't think of a single instance to use as an example. As he thought, he realized that Merlin had never called him fat, at least not in such plain and simple terms, anyway. He fought with his mouth and glared at the raven-haired moron he'd recently decided to appoint to a position of power. Offhandedly, he began to wonder if he'd acted against better judgment. Merlin raised two amused eyebrows. Arthur was red by the time he spoke.
"Like I said: idiot." He stormed off with what dignity he had left. Merlin smiled. When the scraping and cursing resumed upstairs, Merlin peered up around the curved stairway from his comfortable spot on the lounge chair.
"Are you alright up there? I mean, I know you need your exercise and all, but I could always-"
"Shut up, Merlin."
Merlin smiled. He may've been the new Court Sorcerer, and Arthur may've been the King that was about to turn Camelot on her ear, but some things, he knew, would never ever change.
Gaius' work had continued as normal the past few days, save for the fact that he only ever saw Merlin in the mornings and evenings, if even that often. Still, there was lightheartedness in his daily chores, grown in the knowledge that everything he'd been hoping for and working for the past twenty years was finally about to pay off. He was so proud of Merlin and Arthur, words could never describe, so he never tried. Gaius was not the type to gush, and he only hoped that the two men whom he considered as his own sons would realize just how much pride he took in their heroism.
He'd been at the mortar and pestle with a fragrant helping of aloe when Hunith arrived.
"Gaius?" She sounded tired.
"Hunith," He broke into a rare smile and started toward her. He hadn't seen her in person for many years, and was glad that Arthur had thought to invite her. However, when his old eyes focused enough on her to see the panic and worry written on her face, he frowned. "Hunith, whatever is the matter?" He stepped forward to touch her shoulder like a concerned older brother might.
"Is it true?" She asked, "About Merlin? Has he been caught?"
"Well, yes, I suppose you could call it that."
"Can I see him?" Hunith was twisting a handkerchief in her hand. "Where is he?"
Gaius was concerned. "I'm not sure. Arthur's been keeping him holed up in the castle as of late, in preparation for the ceremony tomorrow."
At his words, Hunith's chin suddenly started to waver, then all at once, she was crying. Shocked but not completely knocked out of wits, Gaius embraced her and tried to calm her down. "Hunith, what is it? Didn't you get Arthur's letter?"
Hunith either didn't hear him or didn't care. "All those years, I warned him, I protected him… After all that's happened, I thought he'd finally figured it all out, oh, Gaius, I can't do this again, I can't, not again, not after his father-" She heaved a sob, "Giaus, I can't watch my son die, I won't." She dissolved into tears, and Gaius held her tighter, slowly beginning to understand.
"I daresay you won't," Gaius said comfortingly before he pulled her out to arm's length and looked her in the eye. "Hunith, I give you my word, Merlin isn't going to die. Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The- the letter," She sniffed. "It said that… That Merlin would go on trial, tomorrow-"
Gaius nodded and finished for her, "and will be promptly acquitted. No harm is coming to your son, Hunith." He paused to read her shock, then asked kindly, "You did get Arthur's letter, didn't you?"
"Y-yes, it… It said he would be tried and sentenced…" She seemed confused.
"Well then, there's been a gross misunderstanding. Rest assured, Hunith, Merlin is safe."
She sniffed and wiped her face with the handkerchief. "But… But Arthur knows? About… About the magic?"
Gaius grinned and nodded.
"But Merlin is safe?"
Again, the physician nodded.
"But… But that means…" Hunith's eyes suddenly cleared and she looked at Gaius with such surprise, hope, and wonder that he'd never seen on her before. He nodded again, and his grin grew into a huge smile. Hunith found herself smiling with him.
She started crying again for another reason entirely.
