A Master of Two Servants: Morgana uses the fomorroh to manipulate Arthur into hunting down and killing Emrys. Little do they know the man they are both searching for is much closer than they think … AU of 4x06, 'A Servant of Two Masters'.
Warnings: gore and violence. Spoilers up to and for 4x06, 'A Servant of Two Masters'.
Disclaimer: Merlin is not mine. It belongs to the BBC and Shine.
A Master of Two Servants
Chapter Thirty-Seven
You are nothing but a hypocrite and a liar.
Arthur had said that, hadn't he, when he'd tried to kill his father?
Arthur stared out of the window even as he heard Merlin take a seat at the table.
Arthur watched his reflection. "I don't know what it is to be hunted simply for who I am. I'd like to think I could imagine how it would feel–but I…"
"I don't know truly what it is to be hunted either," Merlin admitted. "The worst of the Purge was over by the time I was born. I had to hide my magic, but if I could keep it hidden from those who would harm me for possessing it, then I was safe–always on edge, but safe enough. Even in Camelot, I suppose my employment in your service protected me. Neither you nor Uther suspected me even when I admitted to being a sorcerer, and having to be so careful meant I became much better at hiding my magic than I ever was in Ealdor."
In the silence, Arthur waged a war with himself. They had to be honest with each other, he knew that. But selfishly, he wasn't sure he could bear Merlin's reaction to discovering the horrors he had committed.
"I do know what it is to be the one hunting innocent people down simply for who they are," Arthur said, determinedly avoiding his reflection in the window. "Merlin, there is something I need to tell you… about the Druids."
"What is it?" Merlin asked worriedly.
"When I had just been knighted, I had yet to prove myself. A traveller told my father that a large Druid encampment had gone unnoticed on the knight's patrols. Father was livid. He asked me to eradicate the camp immediately. He said it would be the perfect opportunity for me to prove myself as a knight.
"I prepared for forty knights to accompany me, under my father's close scrutiny. Leon helped too, though he never knew our intentions until I'd returned for the patrol. I wanted to show them that I was a worthy knight, that I could protect my people from the biggest threat facing them–magic. I believed so unwaveringly that I was doing the right thing until the moment we arrived at the Druid camp. Then, I was not so sure.
"I was foolish enough to believe it was simply nerves. It was my first act as the future ruler of Camelot; of course I was going to be nervous. I felt ill, looking at what I had prepared to destroy, and yet I didn't have the courage to order my men away.
"My father watched it all. He watched as we took the camp and when it was over, he told me that he was proud of me. And I was happy that I made him proud.
"I killed at least twenty innocent people that day. I remember every second of it. I remember looking at my father before I ordered my men forward. I sentenced each and every one of them to death when they had done nothing wrong.
"I felt a profound sense of wrong at my own actions, but they were celebrated. When I retuned to Camelot, my father had a feast in my honor. It was then that I realized what I'd done. I didn't eat or drink a thing. That night, I didn't sleep. I locked my door and I cried for the first time since I was ten and Morgana told me what happened to my mother.
"And then the next day, I let things return to normal. Morgana begged me never to do such a thing again and I told her… I told her that I couldn't make that promise. I wanted to tell her that I would never let such a thing happen again, but I would have broken that promise anyway."
When Arthur forced himself to turn away from the window, he found Merlin looking at him in horror.
"I'm so sorry, Merlin," Arthur said.
Merlin's horror intensified. "It's not my forgiveness you should be asking for."
"They're your people."
"And yours too!" Merlin snapped. "Arthur, the Druids I lead here–they're not… they're Druids, but not like the ones you–"
"Go on. Don't hold back on my account."
"Arthur," Merlin warned, and he was surprised to see the candles in the room flickering as his magic grew unsettled. He took a deep breath, clinging to the arms of the chair. "Arthur. Is there really any need for you to get so–you don't need to put yourself at my mercy, or whatever you're trying to do. You've justified what you've done."
"Justified?" Arthur growled. "How could I have justified my crimes?"
"You made a mistake."
"A mistake that's probably cost us everything!"
"What do you mean?"
"Think, Merlin! I want to make peace with these people–people I have hunted and slaughtered for years. I accused them of crimes I was guilty of myself and I want their forgiveness? It will never work!"
Merlin said nothing. He watched the candles on the table in front of him flicker as his own surety did. He let the tension he felt loose on the candle, running a hand over the top of it and making the flame dance.
Arthur stumbled to the chair across the table from him and slowly lowered himself into it, bowing his head.
"Do you wish that I were angry?" Merlin asked. "Because I am. Injustice is wrong, though it has been at the heart of Camelot for far too long. Every person in this kingdom, in Albion, is guilty of it, in one way or another. I most certainly am. But not everyone shoulders the responsibility that you do. It is that responsibility which makes this injustice seem so much greater."
"I am not fit to be king."
"Arthur, you were meant to lead. People want to follow you; they trust in your word, your judgment. It is your destiny to rule, and you have the makings of a great king, the greatest Camelot has ever known, but you will not make peace and prosperity from yearning to be free of the burdens of the crown." Merlin sighed. "Some things cannot be resolved. You remember what we discussed on Yule. If magic is truly free in our children's, grandchildren's generation, perhaps even beyond, it will be worth it, even if we have to spend our years working towards such a time."
"I would be to blame. What I have done cannot be forgiven."
"If that were the case, I am sure you could understand why. But there are many, many Druids, Arthur, and as a collective, they are not the kind of people to hold a grudge, though we cannot rely on their forgiveness, just as we cannot address everyone with magic in one movement and expect to be celebrating complete equality the next week with feasts and treaties, toasting to your uneventful rule. We must address individuals instead of the masses. This movement will have to start small, with both the Druids and the rest of the magical populace."
Arthur glanced around the room as the small disarray Merlin had unknowingly caused. A few blazing candles, a draw out of place, his bed covers thrown across the table where he kept his keys, like an odd, out-of-place cape.
"Sorry," Merlin mumbled.
"You're angrier than you look."
"I need time to think."
"Of course."
Merlin stood. He looked as though he wanted to say something more, but he turned and left before the words surfaced. Arthur sat for what must have been an hour, until one of the candles burned all the way down to the metal holding it. He stood and righted the mess, slowly and almost methodically, and sat by the fire through the night with fresh ideas bubbling in his mind.
"I thought it would be easy," Merlin admitted to Gaius. "That if Arthur forgave me, if he agreed to free magic, things would just fall into place right away."
They were eating dinner together, in their old chambers, for the first time since Merlin had left Camelot months ago. It seemed a monumental moment, a small triumph among the dismay the day had bought for Merlin.
"It seems Arthur felt the same way, when he was first overcome with the idea of repealing the ban on magic," Gaius replied. "His intentions were good, but he had not thought through the implications of his actions before he allowed himself to become swept away with the happiness the possibility of freeing magic had bought you. Arthur has won you over, for better or for worse, but you know his true character. It may be harder to convince others, especially those that he once hunted."
"I don't want to be angry with him. I could see how guilty he felt."
"You are allowed to be angry."
"We have to be able to work through these things. I just want to know... if there's a chance. If Camelot can ever truly be home to magic."
"You and Arthur are manipulated by the great destiny set out for you both, but while you have been allowed to follow the path intended for you, Arthur has been forced off it by his father. He will always be Uther's son. The moment the Pendragon name is no longer synonymic with prejudice and oppression is the moment the people of Camelot can truly be free. It will take time for that to happen."
"Perhaps Arthur and I are not meant for this."
"Time will give you the answers I cannot, Merlin."
Arthur liked to think all his ideas were good. Usually, it was Merlin who pointed out when they were not. Which happened to be more often than not. It took him a while–until he was galloping through the forest, Camelot sinking out of view–that he realized that he was truly alone this time and Merlin was not there to offer his wisdom.
Of course, he was king of Camelot. He shouldn't need a second opinion every time he made a decision. It was time to be independent. It was time to set his own campaign into motion.
Arthur reflected that he and Merlin were both guilty of respective crimes, but their wrongs were fundamentally different. While it would take hard work and togetherness to achieve what destiny had set out for them, there was separate action needing to be taken. Today, that was what Arthur had decided to do.
He wore no armor, carried only Excalibur and would leave it with his steed when it was time to dismount. He felt decidedly not like a king, but perhaps that was the purpose.
Tethered to a tree with plenty of grass to graze, Arthur left his horse and followed his instincts to the place Brangaine had given him directions to that morning. The smell of campfires, of cooking stew and drying cloth mingled with the shouts of children and merry laughter of companions. His senses formed a map in his mind, until he was standing not far from the Druid encampment.
Before he could walk into the camp, one of the elders stepped forward. Arthur lowered the hood of his cloak. Although the elder did not seem surprised, he bowed quite suddenly.
"There's no need for that," Arthur told him softly. "May I address your people?"
The elder looked momentarily unsure, but he smiled and stepped to the side. "Of course, my liege."
"Arthur," Arthur corrected.
"Very well."
Arthur followed the elder into the center of the camp. The cooking lunches were forgotten, the noise dwindling as the Druids realized who had entered their inconspicuous encampment, well hidden in the woods. Together, the Druids knelt.
"Please, rise," Arthur ordered.
"It is a show of respect, Arthur," the elder informed him. Only he had not gotten to his knees. "We are at your mercy."
"In that case, it is I who should kneel before you."
Arthur fell to his knees. Slowly, the Druids around him stood.
"I place myself at your mercy. I pledge my loyalty and my respect to you. You will not be asked or forced to return it," Arthur announced. "I am here to offer whatever I can to right the wrongs I have done to each and every one of you.
"You have suffered greatly at my hands. In the brutal attack that I led on your previous encampment, I caused you an irreplaceable loss. Our attack on your people, who had caused no previous harm or threat to Camelot, had given me or my men no reason to attack you, was wholly unjust. Yet we acted on prejudices that have not only caused you a great many personal losses, but cast you from the kingdom that should have protected you, as its rulers pledge in accession.
"I cannot justify my actions. I have tried, for the selfish purpose of clearing my own conscience, but… there is nothing I can say, nothing I can offer. I cannot right this wrong. Nothing I can ever do will change the horrors that happened that day.
"But now that I am king, I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to stop something like this happening again. I would give my life to prevent the repetition of such horror. I hope that, in repealing the ban on magic, I can make Camelot a better place, not only for the people that have lived there without threat, but for those who have been forced to live a life in the shadows because of magic and the prejudice I have shown against it.
"It will take time. I cannot promise that magic can be practiced without prejudice in my lifetime, I can offer only my sincere effort in making sure one day, it will be. I will do everything that I can to make sure that Camelot is a place of freedom and equality for all who live within its borders and, if it is possible, beyond.
"I do not come expecting forgiveness. I have come to accept responsibility for my crimes. It is not enough. It will never be enough. I only hope that our campaign to free magic will be a benefit to you. It is the very least that I can do to repent for my wrongs."
The attention of the camp was on Arthur. He continued to kneel, his head bowed, and he waited a moment for the tears to clear from his eyes before he stood. He has said all that he needed to say. It was not his intention to overstay his welcome.
"I will leave you in peace. I promise you now that you will never be disturbed again. If ever you are, you will find sanctuary and help within Camelot's citadel."
Arthur pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and turned to leave. Camelot awaited him. This silence was better than he had expected from the Druids. Perhaps it was wise to leave while it persisted.
"Arthur," the elder called.
Arthur stopped and turned.
"We are sure pressing matters await you," the elder continued. "But if you could spare the time, you are welcome to dine with us."
"I couldn't possibly–"
"You are welcome here, King."
Arthur felt the sides of his mouth twitch into a smile. "It would be an honour."
The noise of the camp quickly picked up. Arthur was given a seat by one of the fires, on a large log where a few children were helping their mother cook one of the stews the camp would all enjoy for lunch.
The child sitting next to him was preparing the vegetables for the stew. He would then pass them onto his younger sister, who seemed to enjoy throwing them into the cauldron they were using the cook. Another of the siblings would add spices to the stew at odd intervals, seeming to forget his duties and let his imagination wonder away from the sights and smells of the camp.
They ate the stew together around the fires. The conversation was companionable and familiar. Arthur listened with interest, enjoying funny tales of the antics of the camp. It was like the small villages Arthur had visited, though more in harmony with the nature surrounding it. To watch their routine seemed less and less like an intrusion and more like a lesson well worth learning.
Though the conversation, at first, did not include him directly, Arthur heard the occasional mention of his name or the title Merlin had occasionally called him by, the Once and Future King, though Emrys' name was bought up more. In a moment of bravery, one of the Druid children had asked what Emrys was like.
Arthur, for a moment, had been shocked to be address and didn't know what to say. He was used to telling people Merlin was an idiot, a fool, a simple servant, but that was so wholly wrong that Arthur could not even form the words in his mind.
"Emrys," Arthur said the name carefully. "Emrys is brave and loyal, beyond that of what I would expect from my finest knights. He has fought at my side against undeniably terrible odds. For those victories, I am sure I owe him great credit, for he has saved Camelot many times, with a bravery that astounds me, as his wisdom and kindness and patience often do also.
"Those are not his only triumphs. He has been my greatest advisor for many years, working always for the better good of others, and saving Camelot often from the inside. And he's managed to put up with me, which I've been assured is a difficult task. He has always been there, at my side, and for that, I will always be grateful.
"I am sure Emrys is the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth, as I am sure that he is the greatest man I will ever have the pleasure of meeting."
It took a moment for Arthur to realize what he'd said. It took another moment to realize he felt no shame, no embarrassment, for admitting how much he valued Merlin.
The conversation turned away from him after that. Arthur sensed there was more to it than what he could hear, but he was content to listen to the legends of the Old Religion that he had been told edited versions of as a child. The displays of magic in these legends were beautiful; he wished to tell them to his own children one day, true tales of bravery and brilliance that had been kept from his generation.
Sunset approached quickly. Arthur found himself reluctant to return to Camelot, but remembering Merlin's habit of following him whenever he tried to do things himself (or as it was usually put by Merlin, walking into danger with the intention of facing it alone), he decided to return for his friend's sanity.
The elder, whose name Arthur had yet to learn, stepped forward as Arthur prepared to leave, gathering up his cloak and the wooden dragon one of the Druid children had wanted Emrys to have, which looked somewhat familiar.
"I would like to thank you, on behalf of the camp, for your humility," the elder said. "Your apology will help us to move on from the horrors of your attack, though they shall remain with us."
Arthur bowed his head in understanding. "Thank you for your hospitality. It has been an honor."
"Goodbye, King Arthur," the elder said. "This will not be the last you see of us."
Arthur left the camp with a new sense of hope.
A/N: sorry for the long wait! Hope this makes up for it :)
Feedback much appreciated :)