Merlin went down the hall with purpose, though he was just going to his chambers to drink a glass of wine and perhaps throw pillows at the wall.
Before he had gotten more than a few steps, he was stopped again. Only this time, instead of Nimueh, it was Lancelot that accosted him.
"Merlin," he said almost apologetically. "Sire. I wanted to say…"
Merlin waved his words aside, effectively shutting him up. "I understand," he said. "I appreciate that you are vigilant, Lancelot, and that you have my best interests in mind. Thank you. But I don't want to talk."
Lancelot nodded respectfully and let the prince pass as he nearly stormed away, once again headed towards his rooms.
A minute later, Morgana came across Lancelot as well, still wiping her eyes dry. "Did Merlin come by this way? He's going to his rooms?"
"He did. He doesn't want to talk, though, milady."
"That's too bad," Morgana said.
She started to walk away, but Lancelot stopped her. "Milady," he said. "How were you so friendly with Arthur? You talked to him several times."
She stared at him icily. "I can talk to who I want, can't I?"
He blushed. "Yes," he said.
She kept it up for several more seconds, and then shook her head. "Your suspicions are not put at rest. Well, lest you attempt to get me killed as well, I'll tell you." She was spitting venom like a snake, and it made Lancelot want to slink away. He'd wondered once if she was made of anything but the frosting of court life. It turned out she had more than just a petty temper. "Arthur is someone I used to know. No longer, now that I live here and train under Morgause. I wanted to make sure he wasn't planning anything that could get anyone hurt. You beat me to it!" Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Congratulations," she hissed, and with a twirl of her skirt, she walked away.
Lancelot let her go. He wouldn't have been able to stop her anyway.
Merlin nearly slammed his door, sitting with a sigh on his bed and putting his head in his hands.
Well, you're going to need a new servant pretty soon. Guess you just don't have much luck with them.
He shuddered and told the morbid little voice in his head to be quiet.
He jumped when his door was thrown open again. Looking up, he groaned. "Morgana, no, please."
She walked in like a thundercloud, but the tears hadn't dried from her face yet. She glared at him, but soon enough the look faltered and her lip quivered.
"Oh, gods," he said, and opened his arms.
She didn't hesitate before walking forward and sitting next to him, putting her arms around him and sinking her head into his chest. He held her tight, his chin on her hair, and ran his hand down her hair.
Rocking gently back and forth like he'd seen maids do with unruly and tearful children, Merlin held her until her erratic breathing had returned to normal.
"There," he said. "Don't cry, Morgana." He started to pull away, but she clutched him tighter around his middle, so he sighed and surrendered. He supposed he should mention that it wasn't appropriate for them to be sitting on his bed like this, but if she didn't want to let go yet… Well, she was obviously distraught, and he wasn't going to push her yet.
"I can't," she said into his chest. He smoothed her hair some more.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Finally she pulled away. Her tears were gone, thank goodness. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said. "I… that was silly. I was just so frustrated."
Merlin smiled shakily at her. "I understand."
"Thank you for trying," she said to him, smoothing her hand along the bedspread and not looking at him.
Merlin rolled his eyes and stood up. He couldn't fight the tiny smile on his face. "You didn't come up here to thank me," he told her. "And I don't think you came up here to cry, either. What is it you want?"
She put a valiant effort into being offended before her boundless energy got the better of her. "I want you to save him."
Merlin sighed. "Yes, I thought that might be it. You want me to save my enemy. Naturally. Makes perfect sense."
"Not because he's your enemy," she argued. "You like him. You think he's nice. Someone to talk to. Like a friend."
"I did," he agreed. "Until it turned out he'd been lying and was really the Mundane son of Uther Pendragon."
"Please," she said, pulling a face. "He's not bad. I know he's not. Please, save him before tomorrow morning."
Merlin pulled his chair out at the table in his room and sat down on it, glad of the opportunity to look at her burning face. He sat down and faced her again. "How do you suggest I do that? My father has passed sentence."
She shook her head violently, then propelled herself to her feet and began to pace. "I don't know!" she cried. "I know the cells are magic-proof, but there has to be something. Some way to, I don't know, sneak him out. I'll help. I'll do anything."
"Commit treason?" Merlin demanded. His eyebrows rose. Her ideas were tempting, but at the same time, they weren't. Because he didn't want to save Arthur. Did he? "Okay," he then said. "This isn't just compassion or some kind of attraction, is it, Morgana? Why are you so determined to save Arthur?"
She stopped walking and twisted her hands in front of her. Her dress was blue, he noted distantly. Blue and silky, with a silver brooch. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.
"Do you want to know, really?" she asked.
"Yes, that's why I asked." He leaned back, calm and collected.
"Can I trust you not to tell anyone?" she asked.
He closed his eyes with exasperation, but she really was nervous about telling him the truth. "Morgana, I swear I won't tell anyone even if you're his secret wife or long-lost daughter."
She smiled for a second. "No," she said. "But I grew up with him. See, Merlin, Uther practically raised me. My family, Morgause's family, we were friends of Uther before he lost the throne. When Balinor overthrew him, Gorlois wanted to support him still, but his wife – Vivienne – she left him. See, Uther nearly killed her oldest daughter. That's Morgause. They had to hide her during the Purge. But Vivienne left her other daughter, me, in Gorlois's care. He didn't defy Balinor, but he always had sympathies for Uther. He stayed out of the magic affair, mostly, but he was killed in battle when I was young, and so they sent me off to be raised by Uther because they couldn't find my mother. I don't think she'd have wanted me anyway."
She looked at Merlin, and he looked back at her, nodding, urging her on. He was reeling, but it didn't show on his face. She took a deep breath and went on.
"So I grew up with Arthur. We were raised together. Well, we were. Not too long ago I realized I had magic. Well, I knew how Uther felt about that, and if I'm going to be frank, I never liked him anyway. And magic was my chance to throw off how I was raised. So I left him and came to Camelot. I didn't send word. I didn't hear from Arthur until I turned around, sitting where you are now, and dropped my wine glass. You remember?"
"I remember," he answered. "So you grew up with him. You grew up with Uther. I can understand why you didn't want to tell me."
She sucked in her breath and stepped closer to him. "Well, it's a little more than just that," she admitted. "See, my father… Gorlois knew, and he insisted Uther tell me. He told me to make sure Uther confessed. It's the reason my mother wouldn't want me. Morgause doesn't know. I haven't told anyone. I haven't even told Arthur." She licked her lips and gathered every last thread of courage she had. "Gorlois wasn't my real father. I was conceived when my father was away on campaign. Uther is my father."
She looked at him hopelessly, throwing her hands into the air. "I'm the illegitimate child of the greatest enemy of Camelot, and Arthur is my half-brother."
He let out a surprised whistle. It was really all he could think to do as he ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well," he said. "We can't tell anyone about that. My father doesn't need to know. You haven't told my mother?"
Her eyebrows drew together in perplexity. "Why would I tell your mother?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Women. I know you two talk about a lot of things."
She went to him, grabbing his shoulder. "So don't you understand, Merlin? He's my brother. You have to save him for me, or with me. I can't do it by myself. Please. He's the most normal relative I have, and besides, I really do love him. Merlin, I can't watch them burn him."
She was staring at him with those green eyes, and he remembered how his mother had once told him that the right kind of expression had a magic that no one could purposefully work. He looked up at her from his chair and sighed, shaking his head. "And what would I even do with him if I could get him out?" he asked.
"Send him back to his people!" she cried.
Did he want to do that? Merlin knew he didn't want to watch Arthur burn, either. No, Arthur had been someone he liked. Someone he believed to be a friend. Someone who had kept him from being lonely. But if Merlin let him go – if he even could, and with Camelot's security, that was a pretty big if – then he might come back. He was the enemy; Merlin had to remember that. He might make Merlin pay for his mercy someday, like a snake turning on him.
Merlin stood up so fast, his arm was whipped out of her grip. "I can't think," he said quietly. "Let me think."
He nearly fled his room.
"Hold on, mate!" Gwaine said, catching his new acquaintance by the shoulders. "You've confused me, now. What attacks are you talking about? What executions?"
The youth, a man with blue eyes too far apart and a ring on his finger, sighed. "You must be really new to Camelot."
"Just here by several hours," Elyan said, tugging on his cloak's hood from behind Gwaine. "We were supposed to meet someone here."
"There were a whole bunch of blasted Mundanes," the man, who had introduced himself as Gilli, explained. "They kept attacking all these towns, but the king and the prince and knights went to Ealdor and defeated them. They captured the leader and one of his men. They're being beheaded at sundown. In the courtyard. That's coming up pretty soon. That's what I was saying."
"Yeah," Gwaine agreed, "but there was a whole bunch of rubbish about another one. What other one?"
"Oh, him. I don't really know," Gilli explained, awkwardly scratching his neck. "A blond man. He got arrested here not too long ago. He was kicking and fighting the whole way, too. It was pretty sad, but he wasn't one from the attacking group. He's been in Camelot. I actually met him, when he had just arrived. About a week ago? Less than a month, I'm sure. He became the prince's servant. He seemed like a good man. I was surprised."
Gilli started to turn away, but this time Elyan stopped him. Gwaine couldn't. He'd gone rigid, and it wasn't from being saddle-sore due to the horses they'd borrowed, which were now grazing just outside Camelot.
"Why?" Elyan asked. "Why did they arrest the blond?"
"I don't really know," Gilli said apologetically. "One of the guards said something about traitors, and spies. I don't really know how reliable that was, though. But he's not being executed tonight, I know that. He's being executed tomorrow morning." Gilli shook his head. "I don't know what he did. But the king will probably announce it at the execution. Until then, only the people up in the castle really know for sure."
Gwaine looked at Elyan with wide eyes, and his dark-skinned friend nodded back. Both of them were going through curses in their minds.
"They're all acting strangely, I guess," Gilli commenting, his eyes on an approaching horse. "See? There's the prince. And he's leaving, right out of the city gates. Why would he do that at this time of day, without any supplies or anything?"
Gwaine caught Elyan's arm as the pale man rode past in a great hurry, face drawn. The two rebels met each other's eyes, and Elyan saw Gwaine's idea loud and clear through all the anger causing a maelstrom in his eyes.
Gwaine jerked his head to the side, towards the gate, behind which their horses would only be safe for several minutes.
Elyan nodded.
Gilli had his back turned, and he went on, "But then, I suppose, only royalty really understand themselves. It's been a strange day…" And then he turned to face his new friends. But they were already gone, running away from him at a great pace. His young face drew together in shock. It has been a strange day!