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For everyone else: Have a great weekend!
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He drifted in and out of sleep throughout the night. His mind plagued with what-ifs. There had to be a way to compromise, as he had with the druids. However, there was so much fear instilled prejudice against magic users that even the peaceful nomads still faced persecution within various parts of his kingdom. He recalled the old woman whom he and Merlin had saved from the pyre in her village. The one who had given him the Horn of Cathbhadh. He knew nothing about her or what she had been accused of, but he'd taken the ancient, magical object. Even after being warned, he'd still used it without regard for the laws of magic and bringing about near-disastrous consequence.
Leon had been correct when he told Arthur that the laws couldn't be changed because of people like Morgana. What would Arthur have done if he had the gift of magic? Would he have been as bad as his sister, or his father? It had been over eight years since he'd followed the sorceress Morgause to the ruined temple and met his mother. Or, was it just a trick of magic? To this day, he wasn't certain if the words the ghost had spoken were true. If it hadn't been for Merlin, Arthur would have killed his own father for his own use of magic to create an heir that killed his queen. Although Arthur didn't think that Uther had intentionally agreed, knowing the end result, it still gave Arthur pause to wonder about magic.
Then, there was Merlin. He warned Arthur that his life would be in danger without the servant at his side. How true was that? Had Merlin really protected him so much from magic by using magic? Where was the sense? Where was the line drawn? The power Arthur had witnessed… how many men had Merlin used that power against? Had any of them experienced without the restraint Merlin had shown when facing his king? How many other sorcerers could, or even would, do that?
Not many. That was the sad fact of the matter. Because of Uther's Purge, the sorcerers who were left were outlaws. Many remained hidden or swore off the use of magic to survive. Those who didn't sought vengeance time and again against Camelot and the House of Pendragon. If Arthur allowed magic to be used again, would it bring peace even from the outlaws? Or would they take advantage of it, somehow using Arthur's compassion against him?
By the time the sun rose, he'd had perhaps two hours' worth of broken sleep and felt heavily exhausted without being any closer to an answer. He tried to put on a smile for Guinevere over their breakfast, but he could see the worry for him gathered in her brow. She offered to take care of the reports from the Knights and Lords over the Round Table that morning in order to let him rest. He declined. He needed to be doing something.
After the third Lord dragged on about the levies and slightly diminished food supply in his territory, Arthur was beginning to wish he had taken up his wife's offer. It was all he could do to keep from bolting at that very moment. When the next petitioner began to speak about a minor sickness in his lands, was when Arthur finally noticed that Gaius was missing from the proceedings.
He hadn't seen the physician all day and began to question the old man's whereabouts. "Perhaps this would be a situation better addressed by the Court Physician," Arthur finally said, interrupting the village elder who had come before him. "Sadly, he was needed elsewhere this morning. I will arrange for you to meet with him later to discuss the situation in your village."
Arthur waved his hand, dismissing the elder. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone else needing his attention for the time being. Guinevere had already seen to many of the audiences that required the attention of the Crown during his short journey to Nemeth and back.
Many of the nobles in attendance seemed grateful for the chance to be released to return to their own affairs so early in the day. Arthur had never set a time limit for the petitioners as his father had always done. It was just another, albeit small, change from the days of Uther's reign.
"Sire, would you like your lunch brought to your chambers? Or will you be dining elsewhere today?" George asked, falling in dutifully behind the king.
The small manservant had been so quiet and so perfectly behaved, that Arthur had almost forgotten he was being followed around. "Neither. I need to find Gaius," he said sharper than he intended. But George didn't appear to notice the tone of voice or he simply ignored it. Merlin would have shot back with some questions that may or may not have pertained to Arthur's statement. He then would have followed it up with some babbling monologue, prattling on about something completely nonsensical. Either with or without the incessant chatter, Arthur found himself annoyed.
No matter how many times he'd been privileged to ride on Kilgharrah's back, the exhilaration and awe remained at the forefront of Merlin's awareness. It was only when his feet were once again on solid ground and the tiny village where he was born stood below the rise of the hill that it hit him. He was going home to tell his mother that a man she'd never spoken of, but who had been a large part of her life through her son, was dead. Balinor would never return to her. Merlin had no idea if she'd be glad or heartbroken for it. Not once, could he ever recall her speaking about Balinor. Everything the man had been to her, she'd kept locked away deep inside. The few times Merlin had asked, he'd been met with a moment of silence before Hunith would abruptly change the subject.
From his earliest days, he learned to not question if he had a father or what had happened to him. It had only been when Gaius explained that the Dragon Lord who Merlin and Arthur would be searching for was, in fact, Merlin's father, that he'd first known anything about the man. Merlin understood if it hadn't been for such a dire situation — one that he had caused when he vowed on his mother's life — he never would have been told.
Perhaps Sebastian had been right. Maybe this was part of his destiny. Everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, had all led to that day in King Rodor's Throne Room.
He felt weak for a moment. Nothing but a pawn in some ongoing conflict where the bigger picture was obscured from view. But, now the view had so long he'd stood in Arthur's shadow, hiding his magic and who he was ... and where had that gotten him? ...In trouble more often than not. It left him feeling shackled, impotent to enact any real change. Arthur still hated magic, even though he'd used it himself by proxy. None of it was of Arthur's own doing. The king didn't know how it felt to be chained and unable to live up to his full potential when it came to forces beyond his control.
No, Merlin realized, Arthur did know… in a way. Until recently, Arthur had been bound by his father's ghost, even before the actual spirit had wrought hell in the castle. It wasn't exactly the same. The only reason Arthur had used magical means for his own agenda was because Merlin was always there by his side. Yes, he'd preached caution to his king and warned him of the evils of magic, never really believing his own words. How could he, when he was magic? Arthur must have known on some level, even if he refused to admit it.
"I suppose there's no point in putting this off, is there?"
"Not if you wish to return in time for your union. However, I could take you somewhere no one would ever find you if you wish to run away from all this." Kilgharrah's patronizing tone grated on Merlin's nerves. "Of course, I've never known you to run away from a challenge before."
"There is always a first time for everything."
"Is facing your mother really that difficult for you, Young Warlock?"
"You have no idea." Merlin drew a deep breath and started over the hill toward Ealdor.
The village was practically empty when he finally reached it. After years of learning to navigate the crowded streets of Camelot, it felt weird to walk into such a quiet setting. He squinted his eyes as he searched around, before realizing that almost everyone would be in the fields working. Rain or shine, there was always work to be done. Much of the hay used for feeding livestock through the winter would be about the right height for cutting. That meant long days of swinging a scythe or raking it into heaps where it would then be dried and gathered for storage before other crops like oats and wheat matured. There was never any time for rest during the summer months. Only those who were physically unable to help would be left behind with others who had different work to attend to.
The old blacksmith was sharpening tools near his small forge. A very pregnant woman was wiping the sweat from her brow as she sat in the shade across the way, grinding some of the previous season's grain for unleavened bread that the townsfolk might share for supper that night. A couple of unruly children, not young enough to be carried or old enough to be of any real help, ran giggling by. They paused for a moment to evaluate the newcomer to their village, their merriment turning to nervous curiosity before the woman called them over to her.
Merlin was glad he'd left behind the finer clothing that King Rodor had given him, as an old man hobbled out of a nearby hut. The man leaned heavily on a makeshift crutch and Merlin had to keep himself from flinching, knowing that he had possibly contributed to the man's limp.
"Simmons," he acknowledged politely and received a scowl in return.
"Here without your precious king this time, eh? It's not like you to come back for a social visit. What'd ya do, drop a tree on him as well?"
It took all of Merlin's patience not to respond to the old man's baiting. He smiled and answered playfully, "No. It wasn't a tree."
He walked away quickly, leaving Old Man Simmons to his own imagination of what Merlin might have done to find himself back in Ealdor. It didn't take him long to make his way to the fields and spot his mother's familiar green headscarf among the people working. She failed to notice him until he reached out to take the rake from her hand.
"Let me give you a hand with this."
"Merlin!" she gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He returned the embrace, only then realizing how much he had missed her and the simple life he'd grown up with.
"Where is King Arthur? You didn't come alone, did you?" Before he could respond, she read the hesitation on his face. "Something happened."
"It can wait. There's a lot of things I need to tell you, Mother."
Hunith nodded reluctantly and let him be for the moment. She understood that there would be time enough to speak in private later. She bent down and began to gather some of the hay into a bushel while Merlin picked up where she had left off by raking it together.
By late afternoon, every muscle in his body ached. He could feel the blisters forming on his hands, as they were no longer protected by callouses from the rough handle of the rake. Working for Arthur was no easy task, but he had forgotten how different it was from working out in the fields. He applied some fresh dandelion leaves to his raw palms before wrapping a damp cloth around them. Even with the aches, it felt good to be doing something that occupied his body and mind, allowing him to push away all the turmoil that he'd been faced with.
At his mother's insistence, he sat down at their small table and watched silently as Hunith set to work making them a small meal.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
Releasing a sigh, Merlin knew he couldn't put off the conversation any longer. He was already beginning to miss Mithian and was worried about how much trouble he'd be in when he finally did return to her. "He knows. Arthur knows."
He watched as his mother went still, her shoulders tightening across her back as she stared at the cooking fire. "Are you in trouble?" She finally asked, not turning around to let him see her face.
Merlin laughed. He couldn't help himself. Was he in trouble? Well, that would depend on what his mother's true definition of trouble was. "If you're worried that he'll come after me here, then no. But… I am now engaged to be married to a princess." He waited for her reaction.
It seemed to take forever before his mother finally shook her head in confusion as she turned to face him. "You'd better start from the beginning. I think this is going to be quite the story."
Arthur had taken care of most of the matters of Court that morning, though his effort to remain focused had been found wanting. Because of that, and the fact he seemed to have disappeared around the time a break had been called, Gwen now sat on the throne. There was still more business to attend to. The Lords and village elders who sought the King's Council earlier were just the start. Arthur should have realized that there were still petitioners waiting to be heard; people who didn't have the status granted to those who had come before the Throne earlier in the day.
She sat comfortably on the cushion that had been placed on the seat of the throne. It was something Arthur had insisted on for her, though neither himself nor his father had ever used one. In subtle ways, he showed her how much she mattered to him.
The majority of the complaints and grievances brought before her were common, everyday occurrences. A hog had broken loose from its pen and ate some lettuce in a neighbor's garden. An old woman was convinced that a traveling merchant had charged her too much for a trinket. A child had been too noisy too late into the evening. These were all things that should have been handled by the people themselves and Gwen began to understand why her husband had disappeared.
"Majesty." One of the castle guards came and bowed before her, just as another man with another petty matter came to the bottom of the stairs.
The queen was relieved to have her attention diverted, as she had dealt with this particular petitioner before. He was an older man and a loyal follower of Uther's reign, who commonly called out those he suspected of doing magic. Only once since Arthur had become king had his claim ever been validated. The man he'd accused was a druid who had performed a simple blessing on a child with an injured knee. Arthur had been forced to acknowledge the incident. However, when the circumstances had been discovered, the king had released the druid from custody with a warning. While the nomadic people were accepted in the kingdom, it might be better if the druid was not seen in the actual city of Camelot again.
No pyre was built nor gallows strung, and the man who had brought the charges had felt slighted by the king. Since then, it seemed the man had a new suspect every time petitioners were granted an audience. The first couple of times, the guards had done their due diligence in arresting the accused, but now even they rolled their eyes and simply warned the person to not do it again.
The old man bristled at the interruption. Gwen ignored him as she turned toward the guard patiently.
"A herald has arrived from Nemeth with a message for you and His Majesty, the King from King Rodor," he said quietly.
She nodded and held up her hand, silently asking the guard to wait before proceeding. "I wish that I could continue to listen to your appeals today. However, there is a matter that requires my immediate attention. I urge you all to try and seek your own lawful solutions to the matters you have brought before the Court today. If you still need the Crown's mediation, then I ask that you return to Court next month."
Gwen felt sorry for most of the people she hadn't been able to listen to yet. Although, perhaps not the old troublemaker. Even after all the years she had been at Arthur's side listening to the issues of their subjects, it took all her willpower not to actually apologize to them. While a queen should never be sorry, she was still a blacksmith's daughter and a maid at heart.
She immediately retired to one of the antechambers and asked that the herald be brought before her. A man wearing a tabard with Nemeth's colors was escorted in. He bowed and handed her a rolled parchment sealed with King Rodor's sigil. She thanked him and broke the seal.
Just as Arthur had predicted, it was an invitation to Princess Mithian's wedding. Gwen was a bit surprised when she realized how quickly it would take place. If they left Camelot the next day at first light, then they would make it to Nemeth the day of the ceremony. She gave the herald a questioning glance and realized at once how exhausted the man appeared to be. "Did you ride straight through the night?"
"Yes, Your Majesty, but it has been my honor to deliver this to you."
"Thank you. I shall send one of our own riders back to Nemeth with a reply after I speak with King Arthur. The guard will see that your horse is taken care of and find you a place to rest."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." He bowed low and followed the guard out.
Arthur wouldn't be ready for this. She wasn't even certain if she was. Since she became queen, she had attended a few weddings with Arthur. Most of them were still prearranged and had months, if not years of planning put into them. The ceremonies were everything from elaborate nuptials to simple feasts that celebrated the union. Perhaps King Rodor had been planning a wedding for his daughter for a long time, it only took finding the right man for the final piece to be put in place.
Well, she had less than one day to find her husband and convince him to forgive Merlin or she knew she would be going alone to Nemeth. There was no way she would miss this event. Merlin had stood by her and believed in the love she shared with Arthur when no one else had. She owed it to him to be there.