2:10 Sweet Dreams
"Leon," Merlin said in a tone of idle curiosity. "Was this your idea, or the king's?" He glanced over at the knight, red-cloaked and helmeted, standing guard near the drawbridge but on the inside of the courtyard with pike ready in his hand, in time to catch a rare smile.
"It was discussed," Leon allowed.
What surprised Merlin wasn't the fact that Uther didn't fully trust the four other kings that had been invited to the peace talks centralized in Camelot. Where kings met, mistrust was only common sense. What surprised him was the fact that Uther evidently trusted him, to watch the arriving strangers for any hint of magic, malignant or benign, in use or residing in artifacts carried with them. It was the first part of his duty this week – the second was of course, as always, protecting the heir to Camelot's throne from intentional or accidental harm.
Merlin leaned against the wall just behind Leon, glad that they were stationed in a patch of sunlight, at least, halfway through autumn. Glad he wasn't Arthur, dressed in full crown-prince finery, entertaining guests and visitors that would have him under constant scrutiny as the heir of the kingdom. Glad he wasn't…
"That one has magic," he said to Leon, pushing upright.
"Which?"
"The one with the striped trousers." He watched the king next to the sorcerer dismount, dropping a fur-lined mantle negligently on the cobblestones.
"Alined's court sorcerer," Leon answered. They watched the king snap at the man, watched him cower like a kicked dog, gathering up the mantle. "He was expected; I heard he's going to be performing at the welcome banquet tonight." Merlin felt something curl unpleasantly in his stomach at the word performing.
The next monarch was close behind Alined's retinue, wearing royal purple with his fur and gold crown. A dainty blonde beauty in a seafoam-green dress allowed Arthur to help her down from an equally eye-catching white horse. The king – her father, Merlin supposed – boomed out, "What kind of welcome is this? You have us hanging around like the last swallows of summer!"
Uther took his hand, his expression showing only pleasant courtesy from across the courtyard, his response too quiet for Leon and Merlin to hear.
"That's Olaf," Leon said in a conversational way. Merlin pulled the name from a long-ago memory, of Arthur drawing an invisible map on the ground in the mouth of the cave below Dinas Emrys. "Arthur's uncle Tristan made a treaty with him in the northwest, before his death almost four years ago."
"Is that his daughter?" Merlin said, squinting across the sunlit expanse. No ladies had traveled with the other kings.
"The Lady Vivian," Leon said.
"They're the last, then," Merlin commented. Across the courtyard, Uther escorted his latest guests up the wide stair, but Arthur lingered, looking across at them, clearly waiting for him.
"Take your time," Leon advised, as Merlin took his first quick step. "No one will mind Uther being cautious, but ostentatious measures could be offensive."
Merlin understood. The presence of a sorcerer in the court of Camelot was surely no secret any longer, but he needed to be circumspect and unobtrusive, as always. Not hidden, just… overlooked. He waited a moment longer, until Olaf and Vivian had disappeared, then sauntered calmly across the cobblestones to Arthur, who was tugging uncomfortably at the full-length crimson cloak he hardly ever wore.
"You look very distinguished," Merlin teased him when he was close enough. "Who are you trying to impress?"
Arthur's lip curled. "Oh, I don't know – five kings in the same room, perhaps?"
Merlin didn't try to control his grin. "Not a king's daughter?"
The prince snorted. "Anyone trying to impress the Lady Vivian does so at extreme peril. Olaf would have their head in a vat of hot oil before they had a chance to say hello." He turned to begin climbing the stairs. "Besides, she's not my type. She may be beautiful, but she's incredibly rude."
"I'll be sure to keep my distance, then," Merlin said, only half-kidding now. Uther's toleration would only go so far if Merlin managed to insult a guest, and the royal gratitude for past services he'd rendered could be conveniently forgotten if something went seriously wrong.
Arthur glanced over at him with a curious look on his face. "Have you ever fancied a girl, Merlin?" he asked, in that tone halfway between ridicule and true interest that said he wanted an honest answer from Merlin rather than a joke, but that the conversation didn't necessarily need to remain serious for long.
"Not really," Merlin said. It would be one girl in a million to understand and accept his unusual background with druids and dragons, his illegitimate birth, and his unique responsibility to and bond with the prince of Camelot. He admired beauty as much as the next man, but knew he couldn't allow his feeling to go any further. "You'll find someone before I will, I'm sure."
Arthur's smile pulled sideways in a faint skepticism. "What makes you say that?"
Merlin shrugged as they reached the top of the stairs. "You're older than me," he pointed out.
The prince huffed at that response, but let it go. "I take it there was nothing to report?" he asked, heading toward a different corridor than the one Merlin intended to take, to return to his little bedroom off the physician's chamber.
"Nope," Merlin returned. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"I'll see you at the banquet, then," Arthur called over his shoulder.
…..*…..
At first, Arthur laughed as much as anyone, as much as Uther and Morgana. As much at the antics of the middle-aged jester as at the thought that immediately occurred to him when the man had appeared at the end of the parallel long tables – I have got to figure out a way of getting that belled hat onto Merlin. And when the jester put his head back to blow a great billow of fire from his mouth, Arthur couldn't help thinking of Merlin again. But.
He had the idea that the young black-haired druid would look dangerous, doing the same.
He was also quite sure Merlin would only do something like that in a situation that was uncontrollably dire. What, exactly, he couldn't quite decide, and didn't like to ponder.
"Now I have a spectacle for the ladies!" The jester tossed his arms outward, and a flock of blue butterflies erupted from the tattery patches on his clothing.
To dispel the faint embarrassment he felt, Arthur turned to look over his shoulder at Merlin, behind his chair instead of Gaius', as he provided an unspecified protection for the prince and the high table, alike. His friend's expression betrayed a similarly awkward feeling, however, and he no longer wanted to suggest that Merlin would look completely natural creating butterflies. It wasn't as funny as he first thought, the image of Merlin dressed and behaving so. Then his gaze slipped past the ridiculous figure skipping and dancing and waving, to the court physician at the far end of one of the long tables. Gaius was never one to let his amusement show aside from a quick ironic smile or a glint in his eye, but he seemed actually disapproving of the spectacle Alined's sorcerer was putting on.
And Arthur remembered with uneasy clarity, something Gaius had told him as they'd watched the young druid boy leave the knights' camp, just below Dinas Emrys, years ago. If Merlin had come to Camelot then, the old physician had predicted, Uther would make him an enemy… or a slave. He watched Trickler, and wondered how the middle-aged sorcerer had come into Alined's employ.
"It has mistaken you for a beautiful flower," the jester proclaimed in a loud effeminate voice, bringing his fingers out from Vivian's blond curls with a blue-winged butterfly clinging to them. She looked delighted, and enchanted, and applauded vigorously, the five kings nodding and laughing in approval, even her quick-tempered father.
Merlin murmured irreverently in Arthur's ear, "Seems someone has managed to impress my lady with impunity."
Arthur snorted and shook his head. He was glad for Merlin's five years of backwoods freedom.
…..*…..
In the absence of more specific orders than a vague help Leon with guard duties, Merlin assumed that Arthur's daily schedule for the week of peace talks was also his schedule. He arrived at the prince's bedchamber door at the same time as breakfast did, and slipped into the room behind the kitchen attendant. The coverlet on the bed was smoothed, Arthur fully dressed at his window.
Merlin seated himself at the prince's table, eyeing the full tray that held plenty for both of them – though he'd definitely have to wait for Arthur before he started eating anything. "Good morning, sire," he yawned. His stomach growled.
"Never have you been more right, Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed.
Merlin grunted, almost offended by the other's early-morning cheer. And after such a late end to the banquet, too. "And never have you been more –"
His mumble was completely ignored, interrupted, as Arthur turned from the window. "It is the sunniest, the most fragrant, the most beautiful morning I've ever seen in my life!"
"You do realize what we have to look forward to today, don't you?" Merlin grouched. "Sitting through the council – well, you'll be sitting and I'll be on my feet all –"
"Today," Arthur announced, as if he hadn't heard the word council at all, "my job is to woo."
"To what?" Merlin said blankly.
"To woo. I wish to make a proclamation of love." Arthur passed Merlin's seat at the table as if incapable of sitting still. "By the end of today, I will have won my lady."
"Lady?" Merlin said, pushing himself up from the table to take Arthur's place at the window that looked down upon the central courtyard. A feminine form dressed in seafoam-green was visible, ascending the main stair. "Vivian, you mean?" he said incredulously.
"She's even more beautiful today than yesterday, don't you agree?" Arthur sighed blissfully in his ear.
Merlin sighed and shook his head. Ye gods, it was far too early in the morning for jokes. "Pretty far to tell," he commented, then pushed the prince back so he could escape the window alcove. He yawned again, and stretched, collapsing back into the chair at the side of the table, the chair that wasn't Arthur's, and laid his head on the table.
"So," the prince continued, still not joining him to eat, "I need your help in expressing my feelings."
"Of course," Merlin mumbled against the wood of the table, not really listening. Not really in a mood for pranks – he thought he'd got quite enough of that during the magic performance the night before.
Arthur's hand slammed down on the table, making him jump upright, but the look on the prince's face was still a purely happy grin. "How do I express my feelings?" he demanded.
"Hells, Arthur," he said, irritated, "the same way as everybody else – just say them."
Arthur managed to glower through his sappy smile. "Girls," he reminded Merlin.
He let his head fall back to the table with a soft moan; it seemed like his friend wasn't letting him out of this madly ridiculous conversation so easily. "Girls," he repeated toward his boots.
"Feelings," Arthur repeated cheerfully.
"Flowers?" Merlin offered.
"Excellent!"
Merlin looked up to see Arthur yank open the door of his bedchamber and accost a passing maid, ordering that a bouquet of fresh flowers be taken to the Lady Vivian in his name. The prince fairly beamed as he turned back to Merlin. "Isn't that taking things a bit far?" Merlin asked.
"Nonsense," Arthur said, striding back across the room. He unlatched his window to swing it open, despite the chill of the drafty air. "I want to tell the world – I want to shout it across the kingdom."
Merlin lunged from his chair to slam the window shut. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" he said, remembering the warnings both Leon and Arthur had given him the previous day. "What will your father say when he hears?" Not to mention, the lady's father… Arthur's joke would not be so funny, then.
"What does my father matter?" Arthur said airily.
"Well, that's one way of approaching things," he said sardonically. "Come off it, Arthur, you've had your fun – by now you should be able to tell I'm not falling for it."
Arthur looked at him as if seeing him for the first time that morning, and the geniality faded. "What do you mean?"
"All this, I love Vivian," Merlin said. "Just yesterday you told me she wasn't your type – incredibly rude, you –"
Arthur's hand interrupted him. It wasn't a hard blow, by any means, little more than a slap on the side of his face. Probably wouldn't even raise a red mark. But it shocked Merlin into immediate silence – Arthur never hit him before.
Arthur wouldn't hit him. What the -
"Lady Vivian is your future queen," the prince declared darkly, pointing one finger into his face so emphatically Merlin found himself leaning back into the edge of the casement. "I will have your head if I hear such insolence again."
Echoes of other threats Arthur had made rippled through his memory, always carrying a tone of ironic amusement. That tone was absent. Merlin looked deep into the blue of Arthur's eyes, dark and angry as he'd never seen his friend, and said nothing. He was at a complete loss to explain such a swift change of moods – what had prompted Arthur's teasing to begin with, and why he should react so angrily when Merlin had refused to participate further.
As the prince spun and stalked from the room, the thought occurred to Merlin that Arthur's mood would not be improved by skipping his breakfast… but it failed to bring a smile to his face. He followed Arthur through the corridors until they reached the council chamber where the meeting of the five kings and their senior advisers was to be held, all day if necessary though short recesses would undoubtedly be called.
Arthur turned in the doorway so suddenly Merlin nearly ran into him. "That will be all, Merlin," he said coldly.
"But I'm meant to –"
"You are dismissed." Arthur signaled to the guard at the door with a single jerk of his head. The guard prepared to enforce the directive as Arthur turned his back on Merlin with cold finality.
He took a step backward into the hallway as the guards were given an order from within and the double doors were closed on the meeting. In the absence of a better plan of action, he turned his steps toward the physician's chambers, and Gaius. The Lady Vivian, he thought bemusedly. Was Arthur serious, then? How could that have happened so suddenly?
Passing a cross-corridor, he glanced up absently, and nearly tripped himself. From the end of that hall, the lady herself was coming toward him, in company with Morgana. A barrage of memories struck – another girl with long blonde hair, another profession of love, startling fast. Ominously fast. Love at first sight? – I suppose it might be… Morgana had a dream… You've enchanted my son in order to gain access to the throne… Arthur's sullen antipathy toward himself, otherwise so inexplicable – I ordered you… leave me… who are you to tell me what I'm thinking?
I'm your friend. She's cast a spell on you. You're enchanted.
All ye gods at once, not again. Merlin heaved a sigh. Well, Arthur would be safely restricted in the council chamber… unless he decided to make his proclamation to the world there. Though all he'd probably be in danger of, then, was humiliation. Or betrothal, Merlin supposed, he wasn't entirely sure how the gathered royalty would handle such a situation.
His best bet was to focus on the lady herself. Perhaps if he had an idea how she'd managed the enchantment, he could arrive at a solution before things got too far out of hand.
…..*…..
Arthur slumped in the chair to Uther's immediate left, paying absolutely no attention to the proceedings. Everyone seemed to speak at once, and no one seemed to have anything worth saying. His love's volatile and over-protective father was just across from him in purple and fur, but Arthur held his tongue and kept his eyes on the table, his head on his fist, daydreams swimming pleasantly through his mind.
It seemed a very short time – though any time at all was too long a delay in his opinion – before a break for the noon-meal was announced. Servants entered in a busy bustle, laying enormous trays piled high with food along the side table, and the men who'd been seated all morning took the opportunity to stand and wander and mingle. Still talking, though.
And no one was paying much attention to him.
Arthur's idea was sheer brilliance, and he implemented it without another second's consideration. Standing at the far end of the long row of rich and varied fare, he surreptitiously transferred a bit here and a spoonful there. Once he'd gathered enough for two on a smaller silver tray, he hid his secret with a large white napkin, and was let out through one of the double doors by an unwitting guard.
Sheer brilliance. He snagged a single long-stemmed red rose from a vase on a table in the hallway as he passed. Flowers. He felt a momentary pang for his treatment of Merlin, and resolved to forgive the younger man when he next saw him. As long as Merlin was respectful toward his love.
He knocked on the door of the guest room assigned to the Lady Vivian, and shifted his weight, impatient with the desire to fill his eyes with the vision of her face.
"Who is it?" her voice was muffled through the wood of her door.
"It is destiny, my love," he declared, then thought belatedly to check the corridor for anyone who could overhear and bear tales. "Destiny and… chicken."
…..*…..
Merlin had ducked around the corner the moment Arthur strode into view at the far end of the hall, having no desire for another confrontation with his enchanted friend. He figured he'd have to do something drastic to prevent the meeting – a sleeping spell, maybe? – between Arthur and Vivian, but if he could manage it without having to see that particular look of cold disdain directed toward him, he'd –
He hesitated. The door had slammed, but Arthur was still standing in the hallway. Vivian's go away was vehemently clear, even to him at the end of the hall. What? The door opened again – what was Vivian's game? Here was Arthur, come to her as intended…
"Your love?" the blonde girl said scornfully, "Not now, nor ever." Over Arthur's feeble protest, she continued, "My father will kill you if he finds you here."
Arthur declared grandly, "Your father does not worry me."
"You won't say that when he's running at you with a knife in his hand," Vivian assured him with casual impatience. "I've seen it before."
Really? Merlin thought. In the hallway, Arthur said, "Really?"
Vivian slammed the door on her emphatic, "Yes!"
Arthur stared at the wood. "Just five minutes?" he pleaded, forlorn as a child.
Merlin sighed and stepped around the corner. Whatever the hell was going on, he'd heard enough to conclude that Vivian wasn't responsible. She wanted nothing to do with Arthur, and while it was highly likely his feelings weren't real, they were obviously hurt.
"My lord, I don't think your advances are welcome," he said to Arthur, as kindly and gently as he could.
Vivian's squawk was muffled by the closed door. "Go away and take your chicken with you!"
The prince turned stiffly away without looking at Merlin. "I don't know what gives you that impression," he said. He held the tray out to the side almost without thinking in a wordless command, and Merlin lifted it off his hand, trailing to a stop as the prince continued.
There was the noon meal skipped, then, too. Merlin lifted one corner of the napkin to sniff curiously at the romantic offering Arthur had brought his lady – the beans are a little cold, but the meat is quite good – and sighed. How, how had this happened? So suddenly, it almost seemed over…
Overnight.
Merlin spun on his heel to head back to Arthur's bedchamber, hoping a good search might provide some clue to the enchantment. He left the napkin-covered dish on Arthur's table next to the untouched breakfast tray. At least the prince would have a good selection if he returned to his bedchamber hungry.
An hour later, hot and breathless and annoyed and cobwebby, Merlin made his way back to the quarters he shared with Gaius, a twist of yellow hair clutched in his fist. He turned a corner just as another person at the far end of the hall was entering another room; he caught a glimpse of yellow striped trousers and grimaced. Probably Alined's sorcerer – Trickler, he was called, what sort of name was that? A pet's name – never had to deal with magical threats to his kingdom. Merlin stalked on, wondering what his life would be like if all he was ever required to do was breathe fire and conjure butterflies.
Butterflies. And the jester's hand reaching right into Vivian's mass of blonde curls.
Merlin stopped outside the closed door Trickler had passed through and glared at the wood. He wanted to storm in, demand explanations and reparations – but he couldn't. The other sorcerer was attached to foreign royalty; such an accusation might easily overturn the peace talks entirely. His responsibility was to Arthur.
Gaius looked up from the book open on his desk in front of him as he slammed the door shut behind him. "You aren't with Arthur," the old man observed mildly.
"Arthur's in love," Merlin informed him. "Again." Gaius sat back as he stalked across the room and laid the lock of hair down on the open book with maybe a little more force than was strictly necessary. "Trickler," he said sourly to his mentor's raised eyebrow. "Though why he would want Arthur to fall in love with Vivian is beyond me."
The old physician picked up the lock, and the stem holding the circle of convex glass he used for enlarging the details of whatever he desired to examine. "An advance by Arthur would be a sure-fire way to ruin the peace conference." Gaius glanced up at him. "Maybe Alined wants war," he added darkly.
Merlin couldn't stand still, and began to pace. "Without creating it himself," he suggested.
Gaius grunted agreement. "It's the sort of cowardly behavior you would expect from him," he commented. Merlin twitched his shoulders; he'd never met the king before, couldn't remember ever hearing the name, even. "Cowardly but clever," Gaius concluded. He set the examining glass and the lock of hair down and stepped to his shelf of books.
Merlin joined him, knowing at least one of the volumes his mentor was looking for; he'd been through it when trying to find a solution for Uther's enchantment by the troll pretending to be Catrina. "We need to find a way of turning Arthur back to normal," he said grimly, selecting the one he remembered.
Gaius gave him two more books. "As soon as possible."
Merlin poured over the books at the table until his neck and back developed three distinct knots of aching tension, then took them up the stairs to his bedchamber. Perhaps a change of position might prompt some brilliant idea, he told himself, propping the books open on his pillow and stretching his length on the bed.
"Merlin."
He jerked his head up, smelling and feeling the ancient page his cheek had rested upon, blinking to bring the words back into focus, and realized the room was too dim for him to see. He groaned, speaking to light his few candles, then gripped the binding of the book open on top of his stack, letting his legs flop over the edge of his bed as he raised to a sitting position. "Did you know, there are over six hundred thirty-six love spells in these books, and over one hundred fifty of them involve a lock of hair?"
Gaius moved from his position just inside Merlin's bedroom door to sit on the narrow bed beside him. "Is there no way we can narrow them down a bit?"
"I have," Merlin protested facetiously. "Look." He pointed to the left-hand page. "If I choose this one and it's wrong, Arthur will end up as a toad." He moved his hand to the opposite side of the book. "And if this one's wrong, Vivian will lose all her hair."
"Olaf might not declare war for that, but she certainly would," Gaius said, allowing some humor. Merlin grunted, and flipped through another few pages. "Dinner's waiting," the old man added, pushing himself up from Merlin's bed.
"Is it that late already?" he asked, following his mentor from the small back room, the book still open on his hands. "Wait, Gaius – I think this is it."
"Are you sure?" Gaius asked, passing the table and instead going to his desk. "You're not going to turn Arthur into a hunch-backed camel or a horny-eyed toad?"
Merlin laid the book on the table in the middle of the dishes laid out, and gave the old man a quick grin. "I'll save that for another day. By far the most love-spells are meant to make the subject fall for the caster, but this is one for interference by a third party…" He leaned on his hands on the table without sitting, continuing to read. "As long as only one-half of the couple is enchanted, there's a counter-spell to break the enchantment."
"Vivian's not enchanted to be in love with Arthur, is she?" Gaius said, seating himself behind his desk.
"No." Merlin traced the words of the charm, mouthing them briefly to familiarize himself with the pronunciation and commit them to memory. "At least, she wasn't this afternoon." Taking his eyes from the book, he noticed that the table held only one place setting – no steam rose from the food, and the gravy had long congealed. He drew back, alarmed, glancing about to see how many candles were lit in the main room, and the shutter already closed on the window. "Gaius – it's past dinnertime. How late is it?"
"An hour and a half past sunset," the old man told him.
Merlin gasped, "How could you have let me sleep so long?" whirling to the door. He cursed himself, leaping down the stairs from the physician's quarters in the tower – how could he have let himself fall asleep? Arthur's words repeated themselves in his head, By the end of today, I will have won my lady… by the end of today… by the end…
Merlin went first to the banquet hall, slipping in through the servant's entrance and scanning the assembled crowd for either blonde head. The crowned heads, he noted, were gathered near the high table, set up for a signing, it looked like, with the white linen tablecloths folded aside to make way for the parchment and ink necessary. Uther was also looking for someone – Arthur, Merlin supposed. Alined wandered closer to the Pendragon king to make some comment, and Uther glanced over his shoulder at Olaf, who noticed the look.
Damn.
Merlin ducked back through the servants' door, and didn't stop sprinting the halls until he reached Arthur's chamber, yanking open the door without knocking, far from caring about propriety or the prince's current mood. All dark, bed empty and still made up for the day. "Arthur?" he said, checking to make sure. "Arthur!" No response. He skidded back to the hallway, considering – if enchanted Arthur was not in his bedchamber, where would he - "Nonono!" he repeated breathlessly, leaping down another stairway and turning another corner.
And stopped at the sight of two purple-garbed guards outside the chamber door Arthur had knocked on, earlier that day. One leaned on his halberd, the other shifted his weight, both the very picture of boredom. So – no Arthur here. Where, then, where?
…..*…..
The first thing Arthur had noticed upon his return to his room was the single rose, still laid across the top of the white napkin covering the lunch he'd intended to share with his love. Cold and wilted, he thought with a pleasant pang of melancholy, and found himself wishing he'd not been so rude to Merlin. "Say it," he said aloud in the empty room, to his absent friend, "you do not think I should pursue my love."
No. It was unthinkable. A Pendragon did not admit defeat – not in war or in love.
He left his room, making sure to pass the hall-vase for a fresh rose, but stopped short in the hall leading to the lady's room. Guards. He slipped the rose behind his back and re-considered tactics. He'd gotten past guards before, and he was determined that nothing would keep him from his love. She was the moon, and he was the tide, and he would fight past any number of obstacles to… no. He turned and directed his steps downward and outward.
This citadel was his home, and there was more than one way to get into that chamber, after all.
The central courtyard was dark enough to conceal himself in the shadow, but not yet so black as to make his intention impossible. Briefly considering where he might carry the rosebud as he made the climb to the princess' balcony, he decided he might as well be as romantic as possible, and took the stem into his teeth. The stone was cool to the touch, the night breeze refreshing, the light visible from the curtained window above him enticing, intoxicating. It couldn't have been more perfect, he thought, pausing to sigh around the taste of the rose stem, unless his love were to appear, to lean down to him and say –
"Come. Down. At. Once."
He blinked. The balcony remained empty, and that voice had sounded much more like his father than his love. He glanced down at the circle of men and torches below him, and though they weren't physically between him and his lady, he knew this was another obstacle to face.
He reversed his progress, then dropped to the cobblestones ready to defend his love.
…..*…..
Merlin remained silent as he seated himself at the table in Arthur's bedchamber, watching the prince lounge around the room, indifferent to the gravity of the situation in the midst of his enchanted bliss.
"It's no good," Uther declared, storming wrathfully into the room. "I've spoken to Olaf, he will not rescind the challenge. He says his honor has been tainted; he demands recompense."
Arthur slung himself about the column that separated the halves of his room, leaning against his grip on the circular support. "You didn't have to do that, Father," he said cheerfully.
"The fight is to the death," Uther said with reproving incredulity. "What did you think you were doing?"
The prince grinned at his father with boyish nonchalance. "You cannot help who you fall in love with," he declared.
Uther's back was to Merlin, so he couldn't see the king's reaction, but he seemed to stare at his son for some moments. "You do realize that your actions threaten the peace talks, and it may yet bring war to Camelot?"
Arthur shrugged, spinning about to skip across the floor. "I am happy to fight for what I believe in." They watched him take a flying leap and land sprawled on his bed.
Then Uther turned to Merlin, with a suddenness that made him jump. "What's happened to him?" the king said, exasperated.
Merlin made a decision, and hoped it was the right one. "He's enchanted," he said.
That sobered the king swiftly. "You're serious," he said, quite calmly.
He nodded, standing respectfully. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I only just discovered the counter-spell to lift the enchantment, and didn't reach Arthur in time to prevent… this."
Uther nodded, then shook his head, then began to pace. Behind him, Arthur continued to bounce on his bed like a carefree child. "Who?" the king said.
"Gaius and I suspect the magic was performed by Trickler," Merlin said cautiously.
The king grunted, his eyes still on the floor as he turned and strode back the other way. "Why did you not bring this to my attention immediately?"
Merlin took a deep breath. "The peace talks were successful, my lord?" he said. "The accord was signed tonight?"
Uther stopped midstep to give him a piercing look. "As a matter of fact, yes," he said. "But what does that have to do with…" he grimaced and waved a hand at Arthur, "this?"
"We feared to – interrupt the deliberations of your majesties, to bring the accusation of sorcery performed on your heir," Merlin said, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the king. If Olaf hadn't declared war on Uther, Uther surely would have on Alined, or both, or all…
Uther took a long moment to answer. "You would risk his life," he said in a tone Merlin could not read, "to allow a consensus of peace to be reached between our five kingdoms?"
Now that was a loaded question. Merlin said carefully, "I believe that Arthur would risk his own life to bring peace, my lord."
They both looked at Arthur – maybe Uther was hearing, as Merlin did, the prince's last words. I am happy to fight for what I believe in. "Remove the enchantment," the king ordered abruptly. "Arthur, come here." The prince obligingly rolled from his bed and sauntered back into their room, hair and grin both askew.
Merlin glanced uncertainly at the king for a last confirmation. He had not often used magic in Uther's presence and maybe never? with the king aware of his intention beforehand. Or at all. He stretched his hand out to Arthur, blinking happily and completely oblivious, and the king nodded decisively. Merlin spoke, "Abuge aglaecraeft."
The prince swayed minutely. His smile slipped, as did his color. Merlin rounded the table, but the king was next to his son. He grasped Arthur's arm, and eased him down into the chair, studying him a moment before he said sternly, "Arthur. You remember?"
Arthur swallowed and said hoarsely, "Everything."
The king nodded, looking from his son to Merlin, who'd grabbed a pitcher of water and a goblet for Arthur. "Make it right," he told them, then added with a touch of exasperation, "for the love of Camelot."
…..*…..
Arthur leaned back in the chair provided him in the tent to one side of the combat circle, listening to the sounds of the crowd beyond the crimson material, trying to focus on anything but the sharp pain high on his right side, the battered feel of his body.
"One of your ribs is broken, sire," Gaius concluded, and held out one hand behind him.
Merlin was ready with the roll of bandages, and Arthur held the material of his shirt out of the way as the physician began to bind his ribs tightly for the next round. "I'm sorry," Merlin murmured, stepping back and crossing his arms tightly over his own chest, as if he had to physically restrain himself from using his magic to help Arthur.
He sighed, letting his head fall back. "It's not your fault," he told the younger man. Again. "Olaf wouldn't accept my apology. Thought I changed my mind too quickly about his daughter, probably. My intentions –" He interrupted himself with a hiss as Gaius tied the bandage with a tightening yank that pained him. "Have to let him take out his feelings on me for a while, then maybe he'll listen when I apologize again."
Olaf was both tough and clever, but in spite of the broken rib, Arthur was younger and faster. And the last round of combat was the sword – he excelled in the sword.
All he had to do was to prevent Olaf killing him, without injuring the older warrior. And then, "This is no way to achieve peace," he grunted, taking Merlin's hand and allowing his friend to pull him to his feet again.
Merlin said, "I'm –"
Arthur interrupted what was sure to be yet another apology. "Shut up, Merlin," he said, giving him a cuff on his shoulder and a tired grin. "Sometimes a fight is the only way to achieve peace – and at least it's not between our armies."
…..*…..
Merlin stood at Arthur's shoulder through the bustle of departure in the central courtyard, and if anyone noticed the ease of movement and apparent lack of discomfort the young prince of Camelot displayed after three rounds of combat, no one questioned it within his hearing.
They watched Olaf lift his beautiful, disdainful daughter to the saddle of her white horse, then turn to Uther in farewell. They could not hear what he said, but there was a genial smile on his face, and the two kings shared a hand-clasp before Olaf turned to his own mount.
Arthur took a deliberate half-step back, onto the toes of Merlin's boot, and nodded to direct his attention to one side. Alined snapped a pair of manacles around the wrists of his middle-aged sorcerer and gave them a nasty yank. Merlin grimaced at the expression of timid horror on Trickler's face. He almost felt sorry for the other magic-user… except that he'd used his magic against Arthur.
"Why so cross, Alined?" Uther said blandly as the other monarch stepped up into his saddle.
Arthur added, in much the same tone, "Anyone would think you didn't want peace?" Merlin bit his lip to hold back a smile, at that.
Alined simpered at them over the hindquarters of his mount. "But of course I do," he assured them. He'd signed the charter with the other four, after all. "Peace," he added, nearly hissing the word, in spite of his smile, "love it."
"Well, you may return any time to view the treaty," Uther invited.
The smile soured. "You're very kind," Alined said, kicking his horse and giving the chain attached to the manacles around his sorcerer's wrists a jerk at the same time.
"While I attribute none of the blame of this situation to you," the king said conversationally, his eyes on his departing guests, but no one else within earshot but his son and Merlin, "and understand that your actions prevented war and helped to ensure peace, this is the second time that your life has been endangered with a love spell, Arthur." Uther turned to them, then, and though he met Arthur's gaze, Merlin knew the king was speaking to him, also. "It must not happen a third time. Therefore, you have one year."
"One year for what?" Arthur said blankly.
"To find a wife and marry." Uther began to step away, then paused, and his expression softened almost imperceptibly. "That's an order."