Gwaine startled, his hand swinging to the pommel of his sword, when a heavy weight clasped onto his shoulder. He looked up, ready to fight, but found the jovial smile of a large man disarming him.
"Percival," he groaned.
"What are you doing here?" Percival asked, surveying the pile of hay behind the local stables Gwaine had curled himself into.
"Getting my beauty sleep," Gwaine grumbled and yawned, relaxing back into the hay.
Percival sat down next to him, leaning back and smiling. "Elyan's irate."
Gwaine chuckled. "I'm sure he is...You ever wonder if we should have rescued him?"
"Gwaine," Percival chastised.
"Right, something I shouldn't joke about." They'd sought out Elyan after he'd caught their attention with a speech about standing up to unjust nobles. Turned out one of those nobles had been threatened enough to end the young man for good.
Gwaine rubbed at his chin. "Elyan's found supporters?"
Percival nodded.
Gwaine covered his mouth as he yawned again. "I've been asking around, too. You know what I hear more often than not? Praise for this Arthur Pendragon, like he's a good sort. You know what he's done?"
Percival shook his head.
"That serving boy of his, found him wandering around in the woods after a raid. Against Druids. That's a strike against him I guess, but then, he took this boy in his charge and..."
"What?"
Gwaine scratched at his scruffy cheek. "Drank poison."
Percival raised an eyebrow.
"It's true. Boy claimed the royals' cups were poisoned and was about to take a drink to prove it and then the prince up and drinks it all himself to spare him."
Percival's sea blue eyes clouded.
"And then another time the prince puts the boy in the stocks."
"Second strike?"
Gwaine held up a finger. "Turns out he was enchanted when he ordered it. Goes right to the stocks when he's freed and takes the boy's care on himself, kneeling in the dirt, giving the boy a drink, washing him up."
Percival stared. "There's more?"
Gwaine nodded. "Boy's been taken twice. Not sure why, no one's clear on that, but the prince went after him each time."
There was silence for a moment. "So what do you think?"
"This boy means a lot to the prince, and I've talked to the boy. They're more like brothers."
"So it's just one boy..."
"But it isn't. There are other things the prince has done, helping out, listening to the people's troubles..." Gwaine ran a hand through his hair.
"Why do you care?" Percival inquired. "You never have before."
Gwaine brought his arms up and pillowed the back of his head with his hands. He closed his eyes. "I've never really told you and Elyan everything that happened," he confessed and cracked an eye to see Percival passively staring at him. He closed it again. "After he killed my mother, my father"—the title was a curse on Gwaine's lips—"tried to kill me." Gwaine's mind was thrust back years to a youth cowering as a sword came swinging down, but it was blocked. "The youngest prince stopped him. They got in a fight. He was wounded." Gwaine opened his eyes. "I ran away. Heard later he survived, but he'd been disinherited."
"He was your brother, then. The prince."
Gwaine nodded once.
"A decent sort like this Prince Arthur, you think?"
"I'm worried he is," Gwaine muttered, wiping hands over his eyes in frustration. Coming to Camelot had made things way more complicated than he preferred.
Percival fingered the scar on his scalp. "Even if he has a bit of decency, there's still the king to reckon with. What do they say about him?"
"Mixed," Gwaine reported. "Sometimes he seems fair, other times he violates and hurts."
"We should get back to Elyan."
Gwaine laughed. "And say what?"
"What you've found out. He might not like it, but he should hear it. And you should hear him."
Gwaine smiled and squeezed his friend's shoulder. Good old Percival. Ever the mediator. "Lead on."
Percival stood and aided his friend to his feet.
Gwen finished lacing the back of Morgana's lilac dress. "Are you joining the king at lunch today?"
Morgana slowly shook her head, her long braid swishing back and forth, staring at herself in her mirror.
"What will you do?"
"You have the day off again, Gwen."
Gwen sighed. "My lady, please."
"I'm all right."
"So you say, but you're not."
Morgana toyed with the sapphire necklace at her throat. "He gave this to me. It must have taken all his earnings for months."
Gwen rested her hands on her lady's shoulders. "He loves you still."
"You can't know that."
"I remember how he looked at you, talked about you. You meant everything to him."
"Not enough to keep him here."
Gwen lowered her gaze. "Please don't look for him anymore. It hurts you too much."
Morgana lifted a hand to squeeze one of Gwen's at her shoulder. "I have to know why he hasn't come back."
"You're not wearing your riding clothes," Gwen commented, resigned.
"I need to talk to Arthur, then Uther." She turned. "I'll be gone for some time. Ask the steward how he can use you. But for now, go home. Take the day."
Gwen leaned forward to give an encouraging hug. "I could go with you."
"Your brother's here. Spend time with him instead of waiting on me."
Gwen pulled back, not quite smiling, and left without another word. Morgana stood. She ran a hand over the bracelet at her wrist. She'd taken it off several times after Lancelot's departure, but never did it reveal his whereabouts. Instead it repeated the nightmare she'd tried to deny, the one that showed herself in Uther's chambers watching him die, and then holding onto Arthur as he wept, her eyes filled with profound guilt.
Her heels clicked rapidly as she made her way out her door and toward Arthur's chambers. Lancelot had loved her in spite of the truth. Now, she had no one to cling to. She was lost, without support and a center. She needed him. Desperately. Before she went mad.
Arthur burst into the council chambers to the sight of advisers scurrying away, several with consternation on their faces. His father had risen from his seat at the end of the table, smiling at the woman to his right, Catrina, whose presence was unexpected.
"Father!" he called out, marching up to the king.
"Arthur," the king returned neutrally.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware you called another meeting."
Uther glanced briefly over at him, then began to shuffle his papers. "I didn't ask for your attendance."
Catrina laughed, the sound grating on Arthur's ears. "Your father is quite capable of ruling on his own."
Arthur ignored her. "I would have come."
"Why?" Uther asked, fixing him with eyes of derision. "I don't need the advice of someone who spends his time looking after servants rather than devoting himself to his kingdom."
Arthur swallowed hard and ground his teeth against the angry retort in his throat. Despite his recent thoughts of what it would be like to escape the cage of his birth, fierce love for his people rose to the surface. "I would have gladly been here."
"Gladly?" Catrina snorted.
Uther waved at her, gesturing in agreement. "You attend with reluctance. You sit with a scowl. Your presence discourages the council. It is time you take your leave of this duty."
Arthur stared in shock. "You're denying me the right to sit at your side?"
"For now. Think on yourself, Arthur. Who you are. Go."
Arthur didn't move. His father had insisted he attend the meetings, learn from them, give valuable counsel, and now he was being summarily tossed aside? His lips pinched together. He had pushed too far, hadn't he? He knew his father resented his care of Merlin and he'd thrown it in his face.
"Do you still know how to obey your king?"
Arthur blinked, coming back to the moment.
"Out. Now."
Arthur turned. His father hadn't yelled like he often did, but Arthur found the calm way he'd been dismissed felt worse.
Uther watched his son exit. Catrina linked an arm around his. "A wise decision. He doesn't have your insight or intelligence."
Uther sighed grumpily. No. It was becoming obvious to him that Arthur wasn't ready for the throne and might never be. He glanced at Catrina. She knew what it meant to rule, to seek the good of the entire kingdom not just individuals within it. Her advice to him had been sound and logical. She was the kind of woman that would make a perfect queen.
Gwen hesitated at the door of her home. Last she'd spoken to Elyan, she'd demanded he leave. She feared to find him gone, but also to find him there. She'd dreamt of his return so long and the close relationship they'd recapture, and instead been handed anger and argument. She tentatively pushed on the door. Elyan wasn't present. She entered and peeked through a curtain Elyan had been sleeping behind. His bag was propped in a corner.
A clanging sounded from the door to the open air forge. She passed through it, wanting relief, a moment to converse with her father about nothing consequential, but stopped in surprise. "Elyan!"
Her brother pounded away on the anvil, shaping something. "Father needed help," he muttered. "He's out."
Gwen assumed delivering a sword he'd worked for weeks perfecting for a local noble. Gwen leaned against the wall, watching her brother 's skill. Their father had hoped he'd take over the forge some day.
"Where have you been?" Elyan questioned.
"Citadel like always."
"You didn't come home last night."
"Morgana needed me." The king's ward had been so distressed even if she didn't say anything, and Gwen had decided she couldn't leave her alone, not to mention she'd feared returning here. "I sent a courier to father to let him know."
"What were you doing?"
Gwen frowned at the hint of accusation in his tone. "Tending to Morgana. She's been upset of late."
Elyan shoved the metal back into the furnace, twisting it, and then withdrew it again, pummeling it. "I had a visitor yesterday."
Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"
"Prince Arthur."
Her heart sank and worry appeared on her features as Elyan shot a glance at her. "Said he wanted to talk to me."
"About what?" Her voice was hushed.
"You."
Gwen worried her lip. "What did he say?"
Elyan had stopped hammering and stood holding the tongs, the misshapen metal in their grasp waving around as he spoke. "That you wanted to help me because I might cause trouble."
"I wasn't trying to turn you in..."
"How has he bought you, Gwen?" Elyan shouted. "Gifts, jewels, whispered promises?"
"W-hat?"
"Where were you last night? The truth!"
"I tended Morgana."
Elyan stepped closer to her. "How many times have you shared his bed?"
Gwen backed away. "Never."
"You're a disgrace."
Tears appeared in Gwen's eyes. "He isn't like that. He wouldn't do that."
Elyan clenched his jaw. "You think you love him."
Gwen's chin trembled. "No."
Elyan dropped the tongs into the water bucket, steam shooting up from it. He swung around and grasped her wrist. "You think I'm the one who needs help? You've sold yourself to him."
Gwen pulled at his hold. "Let me go."
"Tell me the truth!"
"I love him!" Gwen cried out. "I do. But not like you think. I've never been with him like that, I swear to you."
Elyan let her go. "You imagine he cares for you. He has one use for a servant girl."
"No, he..."
"Would never consider a peasant a worthy match!" Elyan shouted. "The king would have his head and yours!"
Gwen's lungs began to hurt, her heart to ache.
"Elyan?" Both of the siblings glanced at the house as a voice called out. When Elyan turned back, Gwen had disappeared. He peered into the street but didn't see her.
"Elyan?" Percival popped his head into the forge. "I found Gwaine. What are you doing?"
"Nothing." Elyan stomped back into the house and seeing Gwaine at the table, threw his hand out. "Where have you been?"
Gwaine met his gaze. "We need to talk."
Merlin was prattling along like always, busying about the room cleaning various bits of it. He'd just returned to his duties, and Arthur would usually be all ears, but today the boy only registered as a background droning. He'd been denied meetings with his father because his actions had shown he didn't care. But he did care. Hang it all, he cared more than anyone knew!
Arthur glanced at the boy now at the table, wiping it down with a cloth and still rambling on. Merlin. The boy he'd rescued, cared for, grown close to...who'd become a wedge between himself and his father. And instead of being judicious about it, Arthur had known his father's feelings and flagrantly challenged them.
Arthur tapped a finger on his desk. Had he put a boy above his kingdom? Above his people? He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He'd almost killed himself to save the boy. He'd gone after the boy twice, risking himself, his life, the solitary heir to the throne of Camelot. And if he died? Arthur clenched his jaw, turmoil rumbling within, anxiety that his father might have been right after all.
But there was something about Merlin. He couldn't explain why he felt more loyalty for the youth cleaning his room than the father who'd raised him. Merlin was like a brother he had been denied. Because his mother had died. Because his father chose to dabble in dangerous magic.
Arthur rested his elbows on his desk, his head in his hands.
"Arthur?"
"Hm?"
"I was asking you about Gwaine."
"Gwaine?"
"The man who brought me back after I got beat up."
Arthur raised his head. "What about him?"
"I think he might be starting to like you."
Arthur crinkled an eyebrow. "Like me?"
"I talked to him and he asked about you. His dad's a king."
"What?" Arthur asked in surprise.
"Yeah, but he's...like me."
It took Arthur a moment to understand. Ah. The son of a mistress then. Or worse.
"And his father killed his mother, so he doesn't like kings and stuff."
Arthur sighed, thinking of his encounter with Elyan. Gwaine could get in line. Royalty didn't seem to be very popular at the moment. "Which king was it?"
"I didn't ask." Merlin stopped stoking the fire. "I should have. I will. Hey! Maybe you can come see him with me."
"You're meeting him?"
"I want to find him. I think he's good really at heart."
Arthur let a restrained smile grace his features. This was one of the reasons he preferred Merlin. Why couldn't his father exude a positive outlook once in a while? Arthur sighed. Because he had the kingdom on his shoulders. A kingdom that will one day be on my shoulders.
The door to his chambers swung open. Merlin grinned as Morgana stepped in. She smiled as she walked to Arthur, skimming her fingers over the top of Merlin's head in greeting. "Arthur."
"Morgana," he acknowledged. "What is it?"
"Why do you always assume I want something?"
Arthur laughed in spite of his troubled thoughts. "Because you always do these days. Even when we were children. Fix this thing, Arthur. Play with me, Arthur. Help me hide from the ruffians, Arthur."
Morgana leaned over to swat his shoulder. "I never asked you to deal with ruffians. I dealt with them myself."
Arthur smiled pleasantly. "So what is it this time?"
Morgana took a long breath. "Lancelot."
Arthur groaned. "We've been over this."
"I have a lead."
Arthur cocked his head.
"I found a tavern owner from Arlswick who saw him less than a month ago."
"But he could have gone anywhere since then."
"He's been there at least three times since he left here."
Arthur heard the hope in her voice. He didn't want to crush it, but— "That's no guarantee."
"I want you to ride there with me. Uther won't let me go alone if I ask."
Arthur considered. His father didn't want him around anyway. He could go and...No. If he left now, what message would that communicate? That he certainly didn't care about the kingdom, that he put an ex-knight above his people. "I can't," he spoke softly.
"Can't or won't?" Morgana snapped.
"Morgana..."
"It's like you never cared about Lancelot."
Arthur scowled, rising from his seat. "You know that's not true. But I have duties here. I'm heir."
Morgana glared at him.
Arthur gestured to the youth by the fireplace. "Take Merlin."
"What?" Merlin jumped up.
"Don't go alone. Take Merlin with you."
"And you think Uther will be content with that?" Morgana asked.
"But I want to stay here," Merlin protested.
Arthur ignored him. "You've ridden out every other time without anyone."
"I plan to be gone for several days," Morgana explained.
"Arthur. I want to stay here," Merlin reiterated.
"I don't care," Arthur exclaimed, looking at his servant. "Go to your room and pack. You're going with Morgana." Merlin opened his mouth. "My mind's decided. Don't press me."
Merlin bowed his head and slumped out of the room. Arthur hated to upset the boy, but sending him away would give him an opportunity to clear his head, figure out Merlin's proper place in his life and kingdom.
"I'll go to father with you and explain," Arthur said to the ward.
Merlin rode next to Morgana. The king had consented to let his ward travel with only a servant way more easily than he thought. He had hoped for a refusal so he could stay near Arthur. It always felt wrong to be apart from the prince.
Merlin blew out a breath and reached out to pet the head of the kestrel perched on Lebryt's neck. Ever since his visions in the caves, he'd felt even more the pressure to stick with Arthur. Kilgharrah had said Arthur could become like the man he saw killing sorcerers with abandon, or the great king rushing into battle with his trusted warlock. I'm supposed to be at his side, Merlin grumbled. Arthur and him, uniting Albion, though that part of the prophecy still eluded him. Albion was in turmoil, kings and lords fighting for this and that land, lots of them hating Camelot, and neither he nor Arthur had much power to change it.
"Arthur can take care of himself."
Merlin looked to Morgana. "I know."
"Then why do you look so worried?"
Merlin shrugged.
Morgana just grinned.
"You really think we'll find Lancelot?" Merlin asked.
"I'm afraid to hope."
Merlin did hope. If the knight were back, he could share some of his visions and worries and maybe the knight would have more insight than Gaius, who continued to harp on the theme of a fluid future.
A tingling zipped up Merlin's spine and he gasped.
"Merlin?" Morgana asked in concern.
Merlin bent over his horse's neck. Magic. Somewhere nearby. Just like he'd felt when he'd caught Nimueh disguised as Bayard poisoning the royal goblets. He turned Lebryt. Nero took flight, attracted to magic's use.
"Merlin!"
Merlin galloped ahead, then zoomed to the left. Lebryt began to protest in whinnies and whines when his hooves sank into the earth. Bog land. Merlin dismounted, continuing on foot.
"Merlin!" Merlin heard Morgana dismount as well and come after him. "Stop!"
Merlin's boots began to slide in thick muck. He halted to steady himself and Morgana grasped his elbow.
"Where are you going?" she hissed.
"Something's wrong," he whispered. "Something up here."
"What?" She looked beyond him. "I don't see anything."
"Shh!" Merlin trudged on and Morgana behind him. He paused near a bush and peeked around it. What in the world...
"It's going according to plan. I expect an uprising in a few days."
Morgana turned wide eyes on Merlin as he ducked back around. Catrina, she mouthed. Merlin nodded.
"Good," a voice replied, deeper and male. "What will you do with the prince?"
"He's lost his father's confidence. I expect him to be disgraced by then."
"And you take his place."
"Of course."
Merlin and Morgana's eyes met again, each reflecting surprise.
"Your reward will be great."
Catrina began to laugh, not the light feminine one they'd heard before, but an eerie, guttural cackle. They didn't have time to consider what it meant when a sudden force snatched them up, sending them tumbling over the bush, crashing into muck and sprawled at the feet of Catrina and a man cloaked in a hood.
"Found them, mistress," a high pitched voice sneered. Jonas appeared around the bush.
"Who are they?" demanded the cloaked man.
"Prince's servant," Catrina spat out. "And king's ward."
Morgana wobbled to her feet and drew her sword. Merlin followed her lead, his heart careening in his chest as he brandished his own sword, the cherished gift from Arthur that hadn't seen use yet.
"Get rid of them!" the man shouted and dashed away.
Morgana made to chase him, but suddenly froze as if stone. Catrina had her hand raised, grinning wickedly. "You are no match for me."
Merlin glanced at Morgana. He held his sword aloft in his right hand and lifted his left. "Let her go."
Catrina chortled with glee and Merlin's eyes widened as her humanness melted away to reveal a lumpy, gray, heavyset being with yellow gleaming eyes. "Duel with a troll, would you? I've got more power than you dream of, boy."
Jonas snickered.
Merlin threw his sword, his gleaming eyes adding to its flight, meant to slash straight through the ugly creature before him. Only the sword never reached it. Jonas, who had shuffled around Camelot like a dying man, leaped several meters right in front of it. The sword impaled him. The troll shrieked and Merlin just had time to cast an invisible shield to counteract the troll's spell meant to whisk him away.
In the same instant, a buzzing filled the air and a tiny green man, thin, with a pointy nose, popped into existence. It hopped with incredible speed and attached to Morgana.
"No!" Merlin shouted. He let his shield drop to stop the man, but he'd disappeared. The troll howled with laughter. Morgana crumpled.
"Morgana!" Merlin rushed to her side. The ward's eyes were open, fixed, then started to move and a terrible grin spread over her face. "Boo!"
Merlin jumped back. "What did you do to her?"
"Looks like we've got a new toy," the troll answered. "And even more useful this time."
Morgana sat up. "Yes," her voice agreed. "How much more would the king listen to his ward."
"Get out of her!" Merlin demanded, raising his hand. "I'm warning you."
"He's a sorcerer," Morgana's voice commented.
"And powerful," the troll noted.
Merlin began to incant a spell, but Morgana started to choke and for a brief moment Merlin beheld the ward as herself, eyes fearful as she began to die. "Stop!"
Morgana's eyes became sly once more. "You do anything, I kill her. It doesn't take much. Suffocating takes too long. One sharp twist of her neck would do it."
Merlin's eye darted back and forth between the troll and possessed Morgana. He lowered his hand. The troll flung its hands out. "Farewell, little sorcerer."
Merlin soared into the air, then plunged back towards the ground at alarming speed. He screwed his eyes shut, anticipating solid earth, but his body kept going, slurping into the liquid muck of the bog, pushed farther and farther down, till nothing remained but darkness.
