Chapter 20 – Crime and Punishment Pt. 2:

After dinner, the guests were led on a tour around Uther's ship. Arthur escaped to his old room, knowing his father would lecture him the next morning about being anti-social.

Arthur hadn't lived in this room for years, yet it was spotlessly clean, everything where he'd left it. He picked up a book and tried reading it. Ten minutes later, he realized he hadn't understood a word, and slammed the book back down. Arthur was restless. He paced the room, organized his desk and messed it up again, poked at the fire place, changed his shirt, paced some more.

By the time Merlin let herself in, Arthur was slumped in a chair, face pressed to the table.

"It wasn't that bad was it?"

Arthur banged his head against the wood repeatedly. "Yes. It was. I hate all of them."

Merlin dropped into the other chair. "Stop that, you're making your headache worse."

He picked his head up and cursed Merlin's wisdom.

"You can't possibly hate all of them," she carried on. "What about that girl you were sitting next to? You seemed pretty friendly."

Arthur glared at her blearily. "That was my cousin, Mithian."

"Oh." Merlin blinked owlishly. "Then why is she here?"

"My father thinks inbreeding is a myth."

Merlin snorted.

Arthur waggled a threatening finger in her direction. "You won't be laughing when my children come out with three eyes and webbed toes!"

She shook her head. "I pity the woman who gets saddled with you for the rest of her life."

Arthur chose to overlook the insult. He sat up straight, suddenly serious and took Merlin's hand. "You gotta help me, Merl. How am I supposed to entertain these girls for a whole week? You're a girl, what do girls like to do?"

She pretended to ponder his dilemma. Finally she decided, "Girls like hair braiding and picking flowers. Oh, and tea parties."

He paled visibly. "What?"

Merlin held a straight face for all of two seconds before she burst into giggles. "You should have seen your expression!"

Arthur scowled. "Merlin," he whined. "Really though. I don't know what to do."

Still chortling, Merlin fetched a page of parchment to jot notes on. She paused, quill poised, eyebrows perched expectantly. "Well. Go on, brainstorm. Do you need to pace around a bit to get your little noggin started?"

Arthur had half risen out of his seat, but froze when he heard her words. "No, I do not." He tried to cover up the movement by marching over to his bed and sinking into the mattress. "And I'll have you know that I'm full of good ideas."

By the end of an hour, they'd sketched out a basic schedule for Arthur's week of torture. Everything else was up to his own ingenuity and charm.

"Meeeerlin." Arthur laid spread-eagled on the bed on his back, his head lolling over the edge, watching her upside-down. "I'm hungry."

"That's nice, Arthur."

"Merlin," he whinged.

"What?"

"Get me food."

"No. Get it yourself."

"Pleeeease?"

"No."

"Great thanks. You're the best, Merlin. Just a pastry for me, but you can get yourself something, too."

Grumbling, Merlin left the room, but in truth she was kind of peckish herself. She slinked through the deserted hallways, ducking in and out of concealed servants' passages. It was late—almost midnight—yet the kitchen still buzzed with activity. Dishes had to be washed, leftovers dealt with, and the next day's meals planned.

Merlin didn't know much of Uther's kitchen staff personally, but she was a familiar enough face that they gave her no trouble as she passed through. She liberated a pastry from a nearby tray and headed to the pantry, knowing Arthur would want jam with it.

The pantry was an enormous store room with rows and rows of shelves, crates, jars, and sacks full of food items. Merlin took a lamp and lit it, casting a small halo of light in the dark room. She had a notion the jam would be with the rest of the preserves, though not a clue where that would be.

Merlin prowled down the aisles, on the lookout for a cluster of glass containers. She was halted by the hollow reverberation of a pan dropping. Merlin held her breath, heart fluttering and ice shooting through her veins. It was too late to hide, the lantern shone like a beacon in the vast blackness of the pantry. "W-who's there?"

Merlin edged toward where she'd heard the noise, light held out in front of her like a weapon. "Come out, I know you're there." At least she sounded more confident that she felt.

She crept closer, lamp illuminating and throwing shadows on the tall shelves. Merlin's eyes darted over every surface, seeking out any anomaly. A whimper came from around the corner and through the gaps in the shelf, she saw a dark shape move. Merlin dashed into the next aisle. "Stop!"

At the end of the row were two figures, one much smaller than the other. Merlin cautiously approached them until she could see them clearly. It was a frail young woman, pale and thin, her shabby dress swamping her trembling frame. Clutching the woman's skirts was a little girl, whose eyes were wide and frightened. They were stowaways.

The three of them stared at each other for a long moment. The woman broke the pregnant silence by croaking out a single word. "Please," she whispered.

Merlin put her hands up. "I won't hurt you," she promised. "I can help you. My name is Merlin."

"Elsa." The woman indicated herself then gestured to her daughter. "Freya."

Merlin smiled, hoping to put them at ease. "I can get you out. You'll be safe on The Dragon's Call."

Elsa stared at her, hope lighting up her drawn features. "How?"

"I'm the prince's advisor. They won't question me," hopefully, her mind supplied. "We'll say you're a guest."

"But the prince—"

"He's not like his father. He'll protect you," Merlin vowed. "Trust me?"

Elsa nodded jerkily. "We have nothing to lose," she said bitterly.

/

They waited at the door for the coast to be clear. Merlin peeked through the crack while Elsa and Freya waited anxiously behind her. One of the maids paused in front of the door, blocking out Merlin's line of sight.

"We can't leave yet," the girl said to a friend. "Cook thinks there's a stowaway on board. She just sent Mackenzie to get the guards."

Merlin turned to Elsa, alarmed. "We have to get you out, now."

Elsa shook her head sadly. "They'll be on the lookout now. No, take my baby, get her to safety first. They won't be searching for a child."

Merlin searched her eyes and relented. Elsa transferred the little girl into her arms. "This is Lady Merlin, sweetheart. She's going to take good care of you, okay? You're going to go with her right now. You'll see mummy soon. Mummy loves you Frey-Frey."

Freya smiled angelically. "I love you too mummy."

Elsa choked back a sob. She pressed fervent kisses to her daughter's face. "You're a good girl, Frey. Mummy's so proud of you."

Merlin gripped Elsa's arm. "I'll come back for you. I'll get you out."

Elsa nodded. "Of course, Merlin. Thank you so much."

Merlin stepped out of the pantry into the brightness, cradling Freya close to her body. She strode purposefully toward the door.

"Merlin!"

She stiffened and turned around slowly. It was one of the assistant cooks, Gertrude.

"I'd forgotten you went in there. Did you happen to see anything at all?"

Merlin shook her head. "No! No one, nothing at all."

Gertrude shrugged good naturedly and came closer. "Who's this little lady?"

"Ah. This is...one of Gaius' patients. She was fussing earlier so I thought she'd like something to eat," Merlin invented quickly.

"I remember when my own were that age," Gertrude remarked fondly. "I expect what with the prince getting married soon, we'll have our own little prince or princess any day now."

Merlin laughed weakly. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for another little terror. Excuse me, but I must be going now, good night Gertrude."

She all but fled back to Arthur's room. Merlin threw open the door, burst in, then locked it securely behind her.

"Finally! What took you so—" Arthur stopped. "That's not a pastry."

"Arthur please. I need you to watch her for me while I get her mother," Merlin explained, out of breath from carrying Freya up all those stairs. She set the girl down and knelt so they were eye to eye. "Freya, this is Prince Arthur. He's going to stay with you while I get your mummy. Be good for him. I'll be right back."

She sprinted right out the door again.

/

As soon as the door shut, the kid started wailing. Arthur stared at her, alarmed. Just great.

"Hey, shhhh. No, don't cry." He held out his hands, unsure if he should touch her or not.

The little girl cried harder.

"Shhh. Talk to me, come on."

Children, it turned out, were much harder to coax than horses or hounds.

He tried again. "It's all right I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Arthur. I'm Lady Merlin's boyfriend."

The word made her giggle. She sniffled, but stopped bawling for the moment.

"I told you my name, so now you have to tell me yours." Arthur crouched on the ground so they could see each other. "Please?"

"Freya," she said quietly.

Arthur gave her a winning smile. "That's a lovely name. And how old are you Freya?"

She held up five little fingers. Arthur thought she was rather tiny for a five year old. Weren't they supposed to be bigger by that age?

Freya seemed to have warmed up to him. "Are you really a prince?"

"Yes I am."

"Is Lady Merlin a princess?"

"I hope she will be one day," Arthur told her honestly. "But don't tell her I said that, it's a secret."

Freya nodded solemnly. She zipped up her lips and threw away the key. Then she opened her mouth again to yawn widely.

"I think it's time for bed." Arthur swung her up into his arms and tossed her in the air. Freya laughed and shrieked, limbs flailing as she was airbourne. She was eventually deposited on the mattress, hair in wild tangles but a bright smile present on her tiny face.

The instant Arthur dropped into his bed, Freya squirmed to his side and settled herself there. Within minutes, her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Arthur had the vague idea he should wait for Merlin to return, but he soon forgot it as he was lulled to sleep.

/

Merlin sprinted back to the kitchen, a feeling of foreboding weighing in her stomach. Gathered outside the kitchen was a throng of people; cooks, assistants, scullery maids, and delivery boys crowded the hallway. Merlin slipped past them, terrified of what she would find.

Uther stood, cold and overbearing, his presence like a storm cloud, charging the air with stifling discomfort and putting everyone on edge. His knights swarmed everywhere. Two of them walked past, holding Elsa, who was limp in their grip. She was clearly terrified, trembling in her threadbare dress, but still keeping a level of composure that Merlin couldn't help but admire.

As they drew past her, Elsa made eye contact, a hopeful, questioning look on her face. Merlin nodded, mouthing 'safe'. Happy tears sprang to her eyes, and Elsa's lips formed the words 'thank you'.

Merlin couldn't bear to see anymore. She wasted no time dashing back to get help. When Merlin returned to Arthur's room, she was confronted with the most adorable vision ever: Freya and Arthur curled up together on his huge bed, both of them fast asleep.

She took a minute to enjoy the peace, knowing she'd soon have to shatter the picture-perfect moment. Merlin gently pried Freya off of Arthur and tucked the blankets around her little sleeping form. Then she urgently shook the prince awake. "Arthur, you need to get up."

He sat up immediately, warrior training or something like that. Though somehow, he was never that quick in the mornings. "What happened? Where's her mother?"

Merlin sighed. "They arrested her. I didn't get back in time."

Arthur patted her shoulder. "It's not your fault. Why did they arrest her?"

"She's a stowaway. I wanted to bring her back to the Dragon," she explained.

"A stowaway? Then she was a criminal."

Merlin rounded on him, anger in her eyes. "How could you say that? She wasn't doing any harm. And she was so thin and pale. All she was trying to do was stay alive and feed her daughter. I see no crime."

Arthur put his hands up. "I just meant she broke the law so she must suffer the consequences. She knew that. She'll get a fair trial and as a first time offender, she'll be out with nothing but a slap on the wrist."

Merlin shook her head. "But I told her I'd get her out and then I let her down. And when she saw me just now? She was grateful! Grateful when I did absolutely nothing when she got caught."

Arthur wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Oh hush. Stop blaming yourself. Now I'm going to go down and inquire about her, see if I can pull some strings and get her out. You stay up here with Freya and get some rest."

Merlin let some of the tension in her body bleed out. She laid her cheek on Arthur's shoulder. "Thank you. For doing this. I know you don't have to."

"But that's where you're wrong, Merlin. I do have to do this. It's my duty to protect these people. And I'll do whatever I can to help them," he declared.

She smiled wide and proud. "This is why I know you'll make an excellent king. You're a good man, Arthur."

Arthur dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I'm glad you think so. I really must go now. I'll wake you when I get back."

He extricated himself with difficulty, reluctantly leaving behind the warm cocoon of his bed. Merlin wiggled like a fish into the indent he left, reaching down to unlace her shoes as she went. The last thing Arthur heard as he left the room was the sound of Merlin's boots hitting the floor and her head hitting the pillow.

/

Arthur stood in the cold corridor, still shell shocked from his conversation with the king.

He'd raced straight down to the dungeons, ready to fight his father tooth and nail for the woman's freedom. Uther had just laughed in his face and brushed him off. True, his father wasn't in a good mood with him, but Arthur thought he deserved more than that. He'd dogged the king's footsteps, pestering him the whole way until Uther burst out, "She's dead! The woman is dead. I just had her executed before you came. Now go back to your room and stop being childish."

Arthur stared at his father uncomprehendingly. "Dead? But you just caught her."

"Yes," Uther enunciated slowly as though his son was being particularly thick. "It's known as efficiency. She committed a crime so she received her due."

"But she stole some food, that doesn't warrant a death sentence," Arthur argued. "What happened to a punishment fitting the crime?"

"Those laws are merely suggestions, loose guidelines if you will," Uther said dismissively. "Mercy is perceived as weakness. It would do you well to remember that."

Arthur gaped. He felt like the man in front of him was a complete stranger and not the sporadically pleasant man he'd grown up with.

He continued, obvious to his son's disbelief. "And if we did it your way, the traditional punishment for a food thief was to have the felon gorge themselves to death. Which is messy and tedious and we don't have the provisions to spare at the moment."

If Arthur wasn't a man, he'd have broken down crying at this point. Instead he asked, "And you don't find that extreme at all?"

Uther looked at him oddly. "No. Though that is enough with the silly questions. You have a busy week ahead. You should get some sleep. Good night, Arthur."

He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, then turned on his heel and marched off.

Arthur looked on blankly. He couldn't believe how grossly he'd misjudged his father. It'd taken eighteen years for him to see Uther clearly for the tyrant he was. The ramifications were only beginning to dawn on him. And with each second that ticked by, his disillusionment grew, proliferating into an angry beehive that cluttered his mind with doubt.

Arthur stumbled back into his room in a daze. Though when he arrived at his door, he had absolutely no memory of how he'd gotten there. He managed to turn the knob and enter. Arthur made it half way to the bed before spontaneously keeling over into a conveniently placed chair.

"Arthur? Arthur?" It took him a few seconds to register Merlin's insistent voice and hands shaking him. The distress written across her face snapped him out of his stupor.

"My father is evil," he said wonderingly. "I can't believe it took me this long to realize."

The concern was evident in Merlin's eyes. "Have you gone mad?" She glanced at the bed and lowered her voice. "Where's Elsa?"

Arthur's brow wrinkled in confusion, then smoothed out again in understanding. "I was too late," he said mournfully. "My father killed her."

Merlin's face crumpled. She didn't ask for details, just buried her face in her hands. "It's my fault," Merlin lamented. "I should have brought her out, I should have—"

"There's nothing you could have done—"

"Then I should have tried harder," she snapped.

Arthur shook his head. "No. It was me. If I'd only gone faster, been there sooner... No!" he suddenly shouted. "This isn't helping anybody. It's neither of our faults. We didn't know. What we can do is put all our efforts into helping this little girl. We owe her that much."

Merlin appeared uncertain.

Arthur coaxed in a gentler voice, "Let go, Merlin. We couldn't have prevented it and it's in the past now. That guilt will only weigh you down. Let it go."

Merlin sucked in a deep breath. She held it and let it out. Visibly deflated, she finally whispered, "Okay."

Merlin half fell into Arthur's open arms. He held her close and stroked her hair. "When did you get so wise?" she wondered.

"When I met you, of course," he replied easily.

"Where's my mummy?"

Arthur and Merlin whirled around, flinching apart on reflex. Freya was sitting up, sheets pooled around her, watching the two of them with wide guileless eyes.

"Where's my mummy?" she repeated.

They exchanged a long look. Merlin went to Freya, scooping her up and placing the little girl on her lap so they could face each other.

"Freya." Merlin took a deep breath. "Your mummy loved you very very much. Did you know that?"

Freya nodded.

Merlin shut her eyes, mustering up the courage to shatter this little girl's entire world. "Freya, I'm sorry. Your mother is dead," she said in a rush.

Freya didn't seem to understand. "So when will my mummy be here?"

"She won't be coming here." Merlin had to force the next few words out of her throat. "She isn't coming back."

"Never ever?" Freya's eyes were starting to water. "Where did she go?"

"She went to Avalon, Freya. She didn't want to leave, but she had to." Merlin struggled to find the right words. "I'm sorry—"

"No!" Freya screamed. "I want her now! Where is she? I want my mummy! Give her back to me!"

She twisted and writhed and shouted. Merlin could only look on, heartbroken for this tiny soul who'd known loss too soon in her short life. Freya resisted all of Merlin's efforts to soothe her; the volume of her wails didn't change in the face of any amount of crooning, singing, petting, tickling, rocking, murmuring, and pleading. Seeing Merlin was at her wit's end, Arthur took a turn trying to console Freya. She didn't quiet down until she had cried herself into exhaustion nearly an hour later. Merlin and Arthur collapsed immediately, determined to get some rest while they could.

What felt like mere minutes, but must have been a few hours later, Arthur was woken by someone's persistent knocking.

"Will you get that?" Merlin grumbled. She reached over and shoved Arthur out of bed, then burrowed deeper into her pillow.

Arthur dragged himself to the door. It was a servant, sent by the steward, whom Arthur had requested wake him two hours after sunrise. Even with the alarm-servant, Arthur barely made it to breakfast on time. He knew he must look monstrous from lack of sleep and his temples were already throbbing.

Clara was already outside the dining hall, waiting for him. Arthur chose for them a small table in the corner, away from all the other obscenely-early-rising patrons enjoying their breakfasts. They suffered through awkward small talk, Arthur punctuating each response with a yawn. Clara was sweet but extremely shy and clearly nervous. When their food was served, Arthur wolfed it down at a velocity previously unknown to mankind while Clara restrained herself to the speed limit of barely socially acceptable. They were finished in record time.

"I have a surprise for you. I hope you'll like it," Arthur told her.

She only nodded in response.

Half way to their destination, Arthur was halted by an all too familiar cry. He looked to Clara. "Do you mind if we take a detour?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

They entered Arthur's room and their ears were assaulted from the moment the door clicked open. Merlin sat at the table, desperately bouncing Freya on her knee, trying to entice her with breakfast. Freya was once again in the throes of a fit, arms and hands and feet lashing out, her face red from screaming abuse at a frazzled Merlin. Just as they came in, Freya's errant elbow knocked the bowl of porridge in Merlin's hand to the ground, joining the croissant, sliced ham, and fruit already littered there.

Arthur marched over and relieved Merlin of her burden. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked loudly over the renewed screeching.

Merlin shook her head.

Arthur apologetically held Freya back out to her. "Just for a second?"

Clara stepped forward. "I'll take her," she announced quietly.

"Thanks." Arthur had absolutely no qualms about handing off the little menace to her. He stepped outside to hail a servant and order a tray of food for Merlin. When he returned, it was to beautiful silence. Merlin was slack jawed as well.

"How-?"

A genuine smile spread across Clara's face. "I have four little siblings at home and this works on them so..."

Merlin got up and enveloped Clara in a tight hug. "You're wonderful. Stay forever please."

Arthur agreed, "I don't know how you did it. She wouldn't respond to anything Merlin and I did. You must be some kind of miracle worker."

Clara was mollified by the praise. "It's nothing really," she insisted. "I can watch her if you want to take a break."

"Would you? That would be terrific, thanks so much," Arthur cut in before Merlin had a chance to refuse.

He manhandled her into a chair at the clean end of the table. Right on cue, a servant arrived with a tray of food. "Now eat," Arthur commanded.

Merlin obediently tore into a bun and put a large portion in her mouth. She chewed with deliberate slowness, exaggerating each chomp.

Clara joined her at the table and even managed to get Freya to eat a few bites. She seemed to particularly enjoy the strawberry preserves, so much so that she stuck her entire hand in it and rubbed it all over her face. The two girls had to bathe Freya in the water basin with a pitcher of water. After, Merlin went to speak with some woman down the hall and returned with her daughter's old, barely worn dress for Freya to wear. With her new clothes, hair braided and beribboned, and clean face, Freya didn't look too different from the other court children.

"She's skinnier," Arthur had to point out. "All those other brats are chubby."

"Arthur."

"They've got nothing on you, Frey. You're the prettiest girl on this ship—barring present company of course. Those other little girls won't know what hit them," Arthur said seriously.

Freya didn't seem to know how to respond. "Okay Prince Arthur."

Arthur just laughed and swung her into the air. They spent the rest of the day playing with Freya. Arthur dug out his old toys from a chest at the back of his closet, which entertained them for a while. Merlin read fairytales out loud from a beautiful gilded storybook, with Arthur and Clara pitching in to play different voices. When she reached the end, Freya demanded to hear it again. And again. Before they knew it, the sun was setting and it was nearly time for dinner.

"Join us?" Arthur pleaded.

Merlin shook her head. "Can't. They'll turn me away from the dining room, I'm not dressed right."

"Then change," he countered.

"All my dresses are in your room—Oh!" Merlin glanced at Clara and blushed.

"I know you two are together. It was kind of obvious," Clara pointed out.

Arthur goggled at her, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Do you think my father knows?"

"Oh no," she hastened to assure him. "I'm sure it's just a girl thing."

Merlin chuckled awkwardly. "I hope so. Or else Uther's gonna kill me."

Arthur turned on her, stony-faced. "Don't joke about that."

Merlin raised her eyebrows.

"Tell you later," he deflected. "Clara and I have to go, you'll be fine on your own with Freya?"

Freya hadn't fussed since that morning. She'd been too distracted by all her new toys and playmates to recall her earlier distress. Now she was jumping on Arthur's bed, wide smile present.

"I'll be fine," Merlin assured him.

Arthur sealed their mouths together for a quick kiss. "See you later." He went over to Freya and was met with a pillow to the face.

"I got you, evil dragon!" Freya crowed. She bashed him a few more times with a bolster. "Die!"

Arthur wrestled the cushion out of her hand. He kissed her forehead and flicked her nose. "Be good for Merlin."

"Kay-kay." She went back to bouncing and mussing up the bedclothes.

/

Dinner was a substantial improvement from breakfast. Over the course of the day, Clara was able to relax and open up to Arthur. During their meal, she spoke animatedly about her family and the estate where she lived. From what she revealed, Arthur was able to piece together Clara's background. Her father was the king of what had been Australia. A series of droughts and storms had led to a massive crop failure, and the king was distraught. There was a lot of pressure on her to charm Arthur and save her kingdom.

"I'll see what I can do," Arthur promised. "I won't let your people go hungry. And that is not conditional on our marriage."

After dinner, Arthur delivered Clara back to her family's suite. Outside the door, he paused. "I had a good time today, though I bet you had higher expectations."

"No, it was great," she asserted. "Merlin was lovely and I miss my little siblings so playing with Freya was nice. I had a lot of fun."

Arthur looked doubtful. "I had all this stuff planned. We were going to go to the kennels and see the dogs and—"

"I'm allergic to dogs," she interrupted.

"Oh." Arthur was briefly derailed. "Then I guess it's lucky we got sidetracked."

Clara nodded. "Good night Prince Arthur," she said softly. "Thank you."

Arthur kissed her hand. "Good night, Princess Clara."