A/N:All right, it's official: I FAIL at updating. I could give some rant here about how I both worked full time and studied full time for all of May, and about how devilishly hard it was to get back into the story after that (I'm still not sure I have, but I'll let you be the judges of that), but you don't want my excuses, do you? You want another chapter. Here it is, no. 54 of 60. And yes, I totally chose that song to try and defend the totally random title of this fic. But I think it fits this story-arch, too.
IYîYîYîYI
"The wall started shaking
I heard love crying out
Happiness is giving away
Security is coming down
He fell, I fell
And all there is left to tell
Is all the king's horses
All the king's men
Couldn't put our two hearts
Together again"
- Aretha Franklin, All the King's Horses
IYîYîYîYI
The Ballad of Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere
Gwen almost expected to see Morgana when she opened the door. When she saw Lancelot's concerned face it was like waking up from a bad dream. She nearly cried with relief.
"Lancelot! Thank god."
She let him in, closed the door behind him and flung her arms around his neck. She was still shaking, and it felt good to lean on someone else.
"Are you alright?" Lancelot asked. "What's happened?"
"No, I'm not. I think something terrible is going to happen."
"Why?"
She had to stop and take a few deep breaths.
"I had a letter, from Morgana."
Lancelot's expression hardened.
"What did it say?"
"That she wanted revenge. She said something about the future being punishment enough for Merlin but that I would suffer now. I don't know ..."
Gwen's voice faltered. A chill ran down her spine as she realised that there was something wrong with this situation.
Lancelot had never been in this room before.
"What are you ... why are you here?"
He looked confused.
"You asked me to come."
Gwen felt cold rising up inside her like mist rising on the fields as the sun sinks below the horizon.
"I asked you to come?" she repeated, but Lancelot didn't seem to hear the dread or the resignation in her voice.
"Do you have that letter?" he asked. He had not understood yet, but Gwen was beginning to.
"No. I mean yes, but it's just a blank piece of paper. Lancelot, who told you I had asked you to come here?"
"Elaine."
Elaine.
"I know how painful it is to realise that your maidservant will no longer be by your side," Morgana had said.
It had been Elaine from the start.
"No. No, you have to go. You have to go now."
But the moment she said it, someone banged on the door.
"Sir Lancelot!" came the cry from outside. "We know you're in there. Come out."
Lancelot looked down at her. If this had been in his room, Gwen would have been able to escape through the servants' entrance. But this was the King's chambers, and when it had belonged to Uther he had had the servants' entrance sealed in a fit of paranoia. There was no way out.
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It was not as if Arthur had not been prepared for this day a long time now. But when it finally came it still managed to surprise him, catching up with him at the one moment when it was bound to be the last thing on his mind.
They were going to have a meeting at the round table. They were supposed to have begun already, but it was not a vitally important meeting, and maybe that was why only a few people had arrived. Guinevere was not there yet, neither was Lancelot or Elyan, and, perhaps just as important for what was about to happen, Merlin was not there yet.
Sir Hector was. He marched in through the door, slowly but confidently, with a small group of men beside him and asked to be allowed to speak – as knights often were, if there were any concerns that needed to be voiced. Arthur suspected that he knew what Hector's concern was, and the old knight was clearly not going to beat around the bush this time.
The knights were seated, and Hector spoke.
"My lord, it has been months since you lifted the ban on magic. You told us that if we waited, we would see that the people would get used to it, that they would come to consider it a good decision. But instead we see, every day, that the people are still scared – scared of magic, as they've always been, and scared to have it at the heart of the court. There are many who believe that the King himself is under a spell. Such rumours are disruptive and difficult to silence. They could undermine your rule, even, the gods forbid, lead to rebellion. For the stability of your rule, Sire, we ask you reinstate the ban, but above all, for the love of Camelot, we must demand that you send the sorcerer away."
Arthur had not expected him to use that angle. But now that he had, he saw how perfect it was. Hector was not questioning Arthur's rule, no, he sounded like he was defending it – the only thing he was doing, based on what probably sounded like reasonable arguments, was demanding Arthur send one single man away – the one thing Hector knew he would never agree to. Of course, if Arthur did not send Merlin away, that would be all the proof Hector needed that the King was enchanted and rebellion necessary. And yet he still kept his lines of retreat open, not saying much about his own opinion or his own theories – just making general remarks about the fears and suspicions of other people. Arthur could almost applaud him.
Or, he could force the man to become more detailed.
"And what is this spell I'm supposed to be under?" Arthur asked, smiling at the knights beside him.
He was slightly troubled to notice that Gwaine was the only one smiling back, and even his smile seemed a bit guarded – if only because he kept one eye on Hector. Arthur felt his stomach drop as he remembered the hunch he'd had before, that perhaps Hector had seen through Arthur's feelings for Merlin and would use that against him. But if he had, he was saving that weapon for later.
"It is felt that you have not been acting like yourself lately. That you have been ... letting things pass. People fear that your decisions are someone else's. That your thoughts are being altered by magic."
Well, the best way to face a claim that was so hard to disprove was to point out that it was equally hard to prove.
"Of course I'll banish him," Arthur said, and Hector actually looked a bit taken aback. "If you can provide proof that I'm under such a spell, I'll send him out of Camelot head first.
Arthur felt like grinning at the annoyed face Hector made, but refrained.
"You misunderstand my point, sire. It would indeed be a terrible thing for all of Camelot if there were such a spell. But as I said, the rumour of it is certainly in and of itself enough to take the throne away from you."
"And who will take it, Sir Hector? You?"
Now it was the knights sitting next to Hector who began to look doubtfully at their leader, and Arthur thought for one triumphant moment that this was going to be a lot easier than he thought. After all, ambition can attract people, but a man who has too much of it is repellent; say what you will about the instincts of the people, but they can smell a beheading waiting to happen a mile away, and it is rarely something they want to be associated with.
"My Lord, you insult me," Hector rallied. "I would rather die than see the throne unjustly taken from the rightful king. But I'm sure there are several people who are of a different mind."
"So you are suggesting that the King should base his decisions on the people's gossip?" Leon asked.
It was nice to hear another voice than Hector's.
"Don't be silly, Leon," Gwaine chimed in, "Sir Hector wants the King to base his decisions on him."
This time Arthur couldn't keep from smiling. He had never been so glad that he had managed to keep Gwaine's support.
Hector seemed about to reply to the knight's snide remark when the door opened once again and Merlin came in. The room fell silent. Arthur could tell from Merlin's expression as he looked around the room that he immediately realised that they had been talking about him. But when he opened his mouth, it was to say:
"I'm sorry I'm a bit late. What have you been talking about?"
Arthur looked at Hector, silently asking if he had the balls to repeat his accusation in front of Merlin. The knight he had brought with him faltered. Those who had not found a chair took a few steps back from where Merlin was standing. Even Percival looked a bit nervous when he glanced at the sorcerer. Arthur was not surprised that there were people who were scared of Merlin. He was sure some of them even had reason to. Hector was one of them, but he seemed to be the last person to realise this. For better or for worse, he stood his ground.
"I was only warning the King and his council about the people's fear of you," he said.
Merlin raised an eyebrow.
"The people fear me?"
"Yes, I'm afraid they do. They fear that you are the one pulling the strings in the court of Camelot."
Merlin smiled, in a way that would have looked kind and mild to anyone who didn't know him.
"Don't you think I would have spent considerably less time in the stocks over the years if that was true?"
The knights who had been around during Merlin's first years in Camelot smiled at that. Even some of Hector's allies seemed to appreciate the point.
"Yet, you don't seem to do so anymore," Hector insisted.
"I should hope not," Merlin said. "I had to learn from my mistakes sometime, didn't I?"
It was interesting, Arthur thought, to watch Merlin bicker with someone other than him. It made him realise what a routine they had created over the years; whether it was friendly banter or annoyed snapping, they would always have an answer for any remark the other dished out. They were – with a few crucial exceptions –on the same page.
Hector, however, was in another book altogether.
"Master Merlin," he said – he looked like smoke was about to come out of his ears, and Arthur was struck once again by the thought that this man seemed to have a very hard time dealing with the fact that there were people who were younger than him who were far more powerful than him – "Master Merlin, I believe you're trying to make light of this problem, and I believe you are aware that it is a problem, and several of the knights of Camelot have agreed that the only possible solution to this problem is that either you or the king prove these theories wrong, once and for all."
"Sure, gladly. And how do you propose that we do that?" Merlin said, quickly putting his finger on the same weak point that Arthur had spotted, but this time Arthur saw that it had been the answer that Hector wanted. The man smirked as Merlin continued: "Do you want to search my room, read my books? Go ahead, knock yourselves out!"
"It has occurred to us that it's a hard thing to prove or disprove," Hector admitted, still smiling slightly.
"I'm not surprised," Merlin and Arthur said simultaneously, and then looked at each other, startled.
"But if you want to prove that you are as ... benignant as you claim to be," Hector continued, "you can do so in one very simple way: byleaving Camelot."
Arthur wanted to speak up, protest, but he saw just by the way Merlin carried himself that he was going to fight this fight himself. Merlin looked at him for one more second, and they didn't need words for Arthur to know what Merlin was thinking:
I'm going to stop playing games now.
Merlin turned back to Hector and said, sternly:
"Not in a million years."
"And why is that?"
"For a start, I have nowhere else to go," Merlin said.
"I could offer to give you two hundred gold coins if you left and never came back."
Even Arthur's eyes widened at that. That was twice the reward of the ten-year tournament. But Merlin was not fazed. Merlin was insulted. There was a shadow moving behind his eyes that reminded Arthur of when every item in Merlin's room had been flying through the air, circling around him in a whirlwind like a flock of angry birds.
"And left you in my place?" Merlin said.
And it was then, before Hector could speak, that the door opened and a guard walked in, clearing his throat.
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"Come out of there, traitor," another voice called from outside the door, and Lancelot recognised it as belonging to Sir Mador. "Come out and fight, if you have anything left resembling honour."
Lancelot felt his skin crawl at those words.
"Are there any weapons in here?" he asked, looking for one as he said it.
Gwen stared at him.
"You can't fight them! You don't even know how many they are out there! And if you got past them, then where would you go?"
He looked down at her. He knew she was right. And yet ...
"If I left, would you come with me?"
He couldn't believe he was asking her this. She was the Queen. He couldn't just whisk here away from the court.
She was quiet for a moment, and Lancelot saw tears in her eyes.
"Yes," she said finally, in a surprisingly steady voice. "Yes, I would."
There was another round of banging on the door.
"You can't run, Sir Lancelot. You have nowhere to go but past us. Give up and come out with your tail between your legs, and we'll let you live to explain yourself to your king."
"A moment ago he said he'd fight you," Gwen murmured. "I wish he'd make up his mind."
The only weapon in the room was a sword that hung over the mantelpiece. They both looked at it.
"It wouldn't do much good without armour," Lancelot said.
"Is there nothing we can do?" Gwen asked.
She slipped her hand into his. He held it like an anchor.
"I could lure one of them in, kill him and take his armour."
Gwen gave him another disbelieving stare.
"I would for you," he assured her.
She shook her head slowly.
"Please don't."
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It really shouldn't have come as a surprise, but in the end, it had. As the guard reported that a small number of knights were standing outside the royal bedchambers, that Sir Lancelot and the Queen was inside, and that there really could be no question that this was a case of high treason, Arthur was dumbstruck. Fortunately, so was everyone else in the room, even, wonder of all wonders, Merlin.
Now? Arthur thought. Right now? In broad bloody daylight?
The ghost of jealousy stirred within him, and a slightly stronger anger that they would be selfish enough to do this, not just to him but to Camelot. But what really took over his body, made him sag in his chair, was frustration, disappointment and a soul deep weariness. He looked at Hector. Had he known that this would happen, today of all days, or did the man just have the luck of the devil?
"It seems you are surrounded by enemies, sire," Hector said.
"Yes," Arthur agreed whole-heartedly, "it does indeed."
Over by the door, the guard squirmed and looked as if he would rather be stuck in a pit of snakes than in his current position.
"Should I tell the knights to break through the door and bring the traitors here, Your Majesty?" he asked.
Arthur sighed and stood up.
"No, we'll just go with you."
He turned to his second in command.
"Leon, I want you to send Sir Elyan away on a mission."
Leon looked a bit confused.
"What mission?"
"I'm sure you can think something up," Arthur said, and then added, a bit under his breath: "This will be ugly enough as it is."
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As Lancelot reached for the door handle, Gwen said:
"What do you think they'll do when we walk out?"
He hesitated, and Gwen wondered if he was thinking it over, or if he was simply unsure of how brutally honest he wanted to be.
"Keep insulting us until they have brought us to see Arthur, I expect," he said.
"They could kill us right now, couldn't they?" Gwen said, and shuddered. "They've caught us red-handed, or they think they have. They have the right."
It was utterly unfair, of course, that they were with all probability about to be killed for something they had not actually done, even if they had perhaps wanted to do it. But Gwen couldn't muster up the energy to be angry, or offended. She felt as if she had seen this coming for years, instead of less than an hour. She thought about Morgana's letter. The honey-soft voice that had echoed in her ears. The knights outside were not the enemy – they were only tools.
"They have the right to kill me," Lancelot said, "but not you. A Queen has a right to a trial."
Did he expect that to make her feel better?
"So you'll be killed, and I'll be burnt at the stake later?"
He looked down at her and said with a tone of absolute confidence:
"Arthur won't let that happen to you."
She wanted to believe that as much as he did, but she had not forgotten the way Merlin's face had looked as the whip had hit his back, and she didn't think she ever would. She didn't believe Arthur would throw her on the pyre, but she was not sure he would stop those knights on the other side of the door from doing so. She looked into Lancelot's trusting brown eyes, and for the first time she wished he was not quite so noble, or quite so loyal.
"How can you be so sure?"
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"You don't have to accompany us, sir Hector," Arthur said. "After all, this situation is unrelated to your ... complaint."
"I disagree, My Lord," Hector said as they moved towards the doors. "The situations are closely related, because the people involved are. Sir Lancelot knew you had a sorcerer in your court and did not tell you. That warranted banishment at the very least, not two or three nights in the dungeons. And your refusal to deal with the rumours of him and the Queen is one of the things people believe is ..."
Hector trailed off when Merlin approached them, but Arthur could hear the end of the sentence in his head: "Merlin's influence."
They all walked out into the hallway and began the walk towards the royal chambers. Merlin walked up to Arthur's side, and said quietly:
"You can't let Gwen be put on trial for high treason. She'll be sentenced to death! It's the only punishment for any member of the court, and definitely for a queen. And if you keep tweaking the laws ..."
Arthur saw Hector turn around and glance at them, and in an instant he knew what he had to do. But it was a plan that relied on a couple of people trusting him more than he might have the right to ask of them just now.
"Merlin," he said, "I want you to go to your room."
Merlin looked at him with a blank expression, like Arthur had uttered an incomplete sentence and he expected something more.
"You're biased."
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Hector's face contort in thought, as though he didn't know whether to be pleased that Arthur was taking the issue into consideration or displeased that he was not providing Hector with further evidence that Merlin was somehow controlling the proceedings.
"Aren't you?" Merlin asked, giving Arthur a look that said he knew Arthur was up to something, but not what.
"I'm the King," Arthur said, "it doesn't matter if I'm biased. I'll do what I have to do, for the best of Camelot. You've been a friend to both Lancelot and Guinevere. You shouldn't be here for this."
Merlin seemed to hesitate. Arthur thought frantically of how he could make him understand. Hector used the moment of silence to interrupt.
"Is he not just as able to intervene if you leave him alone, Sire?" he asked.
"Would it put your mind at rest, Sir Hector, if I put guards at his door?" Arthur said.
"It would be a start," Hector conceded.
"You," Arthur said, pointing at the guard who had brought the message, "and you," nodding at Sir Bors, whom he knew Hector trusted, "escort Merlin to his room and make sure he stays there until you're told otherwise."
The guard and the knight looked at Arthur, then at Merlin, and then at each other. Arthur tried not to turn and look at either Merlin or Gwaine, but he could imagine they were both frowning at him. And then something happened that almost made Arthur jump out of his boots, and he was proud, later, that that he had the presence of mind not to stare, or gasp or make any sound at all.
It was Merlin's voice, echoing from inside his own head and from all sides at once, even though the man himself had not opened his lips. It was loud and rich and it was quite obvious that no one else had heard it.
Care to explain what you think you're doing? it asked.
Arthur might have been able to keep himself from answering out loud, or showing to the people around him how the eerie experience had sent his heart racing; but even so, he didn't know how Merlin expected him to answer.
So he turned to Hector, and said:
"There really isn't much to argue about either way. I've already warned Sir Lancelot once about what would happen if it came to this."
As he watched while Merlin allowed himself to be led away in silence, Arthur prayed he had remembered what that meant.
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When they turned the corner that allowed them to see the door of the royal chambers, Arthur and the others saw that Lancelot and Guinevere already stood in the middle of the hallway, guarded by a small group of, to Arthur's mind, unreasonably well-armed knights.
"What do you think you're doing?" he said sternly as they approached. "You don't hold the Queen at sword's point no matter what she's accused of. Show some respect."
The knights who had been holding Guinevere immediately stepped back and lowered their weapons. She looked up at Arthur and met his eyes, but Lancelot, who had also been given a bit more breathing space, looked down at the floor.
"Your Majesty," said the knight Arthur recognized as the now infamous Sir Mador, "we found this dishonourable knight in the Queen's chambers. We see no choice but to accuse them both of high treason."
Arthur nodded and the knight took a step back, leaving the space between Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot empty. The whole group of people was silent, waiting for the King to speak. It felt as if time had ground to a halt. Arthur still looked at Guinevere, and in her eyes he thought he saw some of the same things he was feeling: regret, tiredness, and disbelief. Maybe she was asking herself, just like he was, how something that had once started out so well could be ending like this. For the first time in months, perhaps even a year, it felt as if their hearts were connected again – only to share each other's pain.
"Don't you have anything to say?" Arthur asked.
All eyes turned from him to Guinevere. He hoped she would say something, anything, to take the burden of the situation at least partially off of his shoulders. Proclaim her innocence, maybe – Arthur was far from convinced that the two of them hadn't slept together, but he was pretty sure it was not what they had been doing now – or she might be able to explain how this was all a trap, which Arthur would not doubt for a second, as neatly timed as it was, in so many ways. She could even try to escape. But is seemed the reluctance to turn this into the dramatic moment it should have been was something else they had in common.
"Only that this was never what I wanted," was all she said.
"It wasn't what I wanted, either," Arthur pointed out.
At that, she seemed embarrassed and turned her eyes down. It seemed there was nothing more to be said.
"Sir Lancelot?" Arthur said, turning to the man, if for no other reason than to give them both an equal chance to speak up for themselves.
"I don't care what happens to me," Lancelot said, and Arthur knew all too well that it wasn't posturing or pretence. "But the Queen is innocent."
Arthur shook his head, not because he didn't believe Lancelot, but because his plea was pointless.
"Lancelot, I have trusted you like a brother. And I still believe you are a better man than most of us who are standing here. But the time has come for you to leave Camelot. You are banished henceforth, to return on pain of death."
At this, Lancelot finally looked up, surprised.
But Arthur pretended not to notice and turned to the knights and guards holding the two lovers.
"The Queen will have her trial at noon tomorrow the courtyard, as tradition commands."
"Sire, I beseech you ..." Lancelot tried, clearly aware of what such a trial meant.
"Take her to the dungeons overnight," Arthur continued.
"You don't have to do this," Guinevere said, calmly.
"And take Sir Lancelot to his room, make sure he gathers his things and leaves as quickly as possible. Now."
The next moment, Lancelot and Guinevere were being hauled off in different directions. Arthur watched as they turned in the guards' grips to look at each other, and was reminded of the time, years ago, when his father had been convinced that Guinevere had enchanted him, and had her dragged to the dungeons while the guards held Arthur back. He remembered the kiss they'd managed to steal in front of the whole room, the one he had thought would be their last. Now, guards were no longer needed. His responsibilities and his disillusionment were more than enough to keep him rooted to the spot as the woman who had become his wife and the man who had become his brother were both dragged out of his view and ultimately out of his life.
IYîYîYîYI
"What a spectacle," Hector declared behind Arthur's back.
"Shut up," came Gwaine's voice. It was uncharacteristically quiet.
"I'll have to think of something to say to Elyan," Arthur said. "I'd really rather not lose two knights at once. "
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll figure it out," Gwaine said.
Arthur was reminded of the bridge keeper of the perilous lands who had, apparently, named Gwaine Strength. Maybe the word suited him in more aspects than one.
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As Lancelot was being led towards the city gates, he thought about what few options he had, and which options he might already have wasted. He wondered if he should have said something more. If he should have fought, with words or with weapons.
The other knights had made fun of Lancelot sometimes, both behind his back and to his face, for his high principles, for how proper he was, for how he was always ready to see the best in everyone, for being naive. Maybe they had been right, too; maybe he was naive. He could take the jibes. He wasn't ashamed of believing in those things.
But no one had made fun of him the day Arthur and Gwen got married. No one had said a word to him the day when Arthur had placed a crown on her head and kissed her in front of the whole court. He had not said a word either. She had deserved it – the honour, the life, the love of the people, and above all the happiness. And so had Arthur.
Gwaine had dragged him away from the banquet that evening, down to the nearest tavern. He had not even asked whether Lancelot wanted to go or not, he had just grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the room. A night at the tavern was Gwaine's kind of solution, of course, not Lancelot's. He had barely looked up from the table all evening. But he had gotten drunk, and he had fallen asleep, and in the morning the headache had blocked out that stubborn feeling that he had just made a horrible, horrible mistake.
Now that feeling had returned with a vengeance, and this time it would not go away. The disappointment in Arthur's eyes haunted him as well as the fear in Gwen's. He might be naive, but he believed with all his heart that there had to be a better ending to their story than this.
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