Chapter XXII: Cenred, King of Essetir

Arthur was genuinely afraid that Morgana would lose control of her magic and blow up Cenred's head, or set him on fire, or something equally fatal and unpleasant. While he doubted that anybody would think to blame her—at least not out loud—a royal death would make things messy for more than just whatever poor servants would have to clean him up.

At first, he'd been surprised that she had appeared at all. When he'd learned that Cenred had arrived early, he'd more than half-expected his sister to barricade herself in her chambers until the guards knocked down her door with a battering ram. Then he'd glimpsed Guinevere standing off in the side of the room and remembered his father's threats against her.

The charm worked; Guinevere had assured him of that. Either the ladies hadn't had the chance to use it or they'd decided to stick it out a while longer. He wouldn't put it past Morgana to disappear half an hour before the ceremony, just to cause as much drama as she could, and Guinevere would want to keep up her new smuggling project for as long as possible.

Arthur hadn't seen Cenred since they were both young. He had vague memories of a rude, haughty boy a few years older than himself. The last… had it really been almost a decade and a half?... had been kind to him. He'd learned to control his temper, his wants, his tongue.

The King of Essetir had focused most of his conversation on Uther rather than his bride-to-be. He hadn't been so rude as to ignore her outright, but he didn't speak to her very much, either. Arthur wondered if he felt she was unimportant, useful only for her connections, or if he was intelligent enough to fear setting her off. Certainly Morgana's baleful glare promised death for anyone fool enough to provoke her.

…In the interest of avoiding an international incident (and a messy magical accident), he should probably try to defuse the witch's temper. He just didn't know how.

At least the dinner was almost over. Only dessert remained. Arthur would be more grateful for the nearness of his escape if he hadn't expected his father to give a speech between courses.

Sure enough, Uther rose as the last few dishes were being taken away, gestured sharply for silence. Quiet fell with unusual quickness; these days, everyone was paying particular attention to the king.

(There were almost enough members of the Royal Council to give his planned coup legitimacy. Admittedly, forcing a king to abdicate was not one of their prerogatives, but if Arthur got enough support, that little detail wouldn't matter. Much. He hoped.)

For the most part, Uther's speech was exactly what Arthur had anticipated. He was glad to welcome this mighty ally of Camelot, he was glad to see the wedding of his foster-daughter cement the ties between them, he was glad that they would destroy all magic together. (If he diverted into a somewhat rambling tangent about the evils of sorcery, nobody was stupid enough to comment.) Then he announced that the wedding would take place the day after tomorrow, immediately following lunch.

"Do you really think that a day and a half is enough time to prepare for a royal wedding, Father?" Arthur asked the second conversation resumed.

"The servants will not dally. I want to see her married as soon as possible. Then it will be your turn, Arthur. The Sarrum has agreed to come early." He grinned. "I will see you both married in just a few weeks."

Arthur somehow managed to not look at Guinevere. "…Surely another day or two of preparation would allow us to show more honor to our guest and ally."

"The Lady Morgana's hand is honor enough, Prince Arthur," Cenred interjected. He smirked. "Besides, the sooner we produce an heir—"

His goblet exploded, a fountain of wine geysering all over his face, ruining his clothes.

"SORCERY!" Uther yowled, leaping to his feet.

The entire room went into an uproar: servants frozen in indecision, platters of pie in their hands; nobles surging towards the exit; guards shouting to one another, some with weapons drawn; and Uther shouting above it all, ranting about assassins and evil and how this was clearly Merlin's fault.

Morgana hesitated in her chair, pale-faced and stiff. Arthur jerked his chin towards the door. At the same time, Guinevere reached her lady's side, murmuring something about getting her away from the chaos. She and Arthur exchanged quick smiles as she helped Morgana to her feet. Then the two were gone.

When his father paused for breath, Arthur told him, "Yes, this was definitely Merlin." Better to blame the known warlock than to start yet another witch hunt here in the castle. "It's exactly the sort of thing he finds hilarious." That part, at least, was true.

"He's going to die soon," Uther mutters darkly, and it was different from his usual tirades. Darker, quieter, more assured. A promise.

But at least Merlin was staying outside of the citadel these days. He'd told Guinevere about his family's campaign of false messages, and Guinevere had conveyed that information to Arthur and Morgana. Right now, the warlock was probably either scrying one of the gates or watching this disaster of a dinner, chuckling to himself at Cenred's misfortune and Morgana's escape. That, or he was eating his own dinner or sleeping; he might still be in recovery for his impulsive idiocy in the Perilous Lands.

Naturally, Uther ordered a manhunt, with Cenred's soldiers supplementing his own (somewhat depleted) forces to help hunt down the loathsome sorcerer who had 'tried to assassinate' the younger king. Arthur volunteered to help, mostly because he hadn't been outside in days and wanted to breathe in the clean night air.

Uther paused to squint at him suspiciously. "And what will you do if you find this sorcerer of yours?"

Yell at him for being stupid enough to visit Camelot during a manhunt, then begrudgingly assist with whatever emergency was urgent enough to make the known warlock enter the citadel. "I'll do what I have to."

The king accepted this vague platitude and sent him on his way.

(He never would have fallen for that before the mandrake root, before Arthur had let a sorceress drive him mad. But he'd changed since then, and not for the better.

Gods, he hated seeing his father like this.)

Gwen and Morgana took advantage of the confusion caused by her loss of control to slip into the manor's library. It was empty—Leodegrance didn't employ a librarian and Sir Geoffrey had been at dinner—and private and far enough out of the way that, hopefully, no one would think to enter. If someone did show up, they could claim they'd been hiding from 'the sorcerer,' but it would be better to not need that plan.

"Two days," Morgana hissed. "Two days. Just for that, I'm going to disappear right before the ceremony. Do you think I should leave a note saying that I'm eloping with Merlin?"

"That… might cause problems when we all return to Camelot. Unless you intended to marry him for real?"

The suggestion—or perhaps, Gwen thought, it was a revelation—startled Morgana out of her rage, though only for a few moments. "I'll figure out my marriage later," she proclaimed. "If we got Tom and our supplies out that morning, we could leave together right after I put on my so-called wedding dress."

Gwen didn't bother asking why Morgana would go through all the difficulty of putting on a fancy gown just to disappear. "I'd have to call Merlin the second you were done. It would be very uncomfortable to have him in the room while you changed." Even though she was fairly certain that he'd be a perfect gentleman about it, just like when he'd wandered in with a sleeping draught and been mistaken for a maid. "And there would be too much risk of someone bumping into him."

"That's true," the lady acknowledged. "What if I only hinted that we were eloping?"

"Then Uther and all the local gossips would probably explode, if for very different reasons."

Morgana grinned dreamily at the prospect.

"Perhaps we should focus more on the other details," Gwen suggested.

"Right, right. Can you speak with Merlin tonight, or do you have guests?"

"Two guests," Gwen sighed. "And there's an entire family in Kilgharrah's old cave. Five children. Isolde and Tristan aren't due back until tomorrow, which I don't think leaves us with quite enough time to plan."

Morgana hesitated, then levitated the desk to block the door. She was getting much better at that.

Gwen touched the simple metal disk and called for her friend. He was there moments later. A glowing golden shield snapped into existence in less than half a heartbeat before he realized that they were in a mostly-empty library. Grinning sheepishly, the warlock dropped his shield. "What happened?"

They told him about Cenred's arrival and the bare bones of their new plan, leaving out the disastrous dinner for brevity's sake. Morgana, of course, couldn't resist proposing the fake elopement. Gwen had more than half-expected Merlin to acquiesce with a chortle, but her friend just winced. "I'd… really rather not have my name associated with something that would anger Cenred so much. Ealdor isn't my home anymore, but I don't know if he knows that."

The women exchanged very awkward and uncomfortable glances.

"Oh, gods, what has Uther been telling him?"

"I lost my temper at dinner and blew up his goblet," Morgana confessed. "Uther blamed you."

Merlin blanched. "Oh. I understand why you'd want him to think that and not go rampaging through the manor, but that's not…."

"Do you really think he'll attack Ealdor?" Gwen asked. She thought of the brave humble people standing their ground against Kanen's men, wondered if they would try to fight back against their own king's soldiers.

"I don't know," Merlin admitted. "He's never been a good king, but I can't think of a time that he's ever sent his men to destroy a village. We're not… I don't think that my people would stand for that, not with King Loth's family alive and well."

"Surely he wouldn't risk an uprising," Gwen tried to assure him.

Merlin wasn't entirely convinced. "I'd still like to warn them, though. Just in case." He forced a smile, a pale imitation of his usual brilliant grin.

"Of course."

"But they can't get there tonight. We have time to plan." His smile became a little less pained.

It didn't take them long to iron out the details: Tom would fake an illness to provide an alibi for his disappearance that morning, Gwen would whisper the summons in the dressing room, Merlin would arrive invisibly and put the other maids to sleep, and Morgana would not pretend she was eloping with the man her king loathed more than anyone else in the world.

"You'd better get back now," Merlin finally sighed. "You were trying to avoid a manhunt, right?"

Morgana sighed heavily. She would undoubtedly be put under guard the moment she returned to the public eye. Gwen had more opportunity for privacy, but she could imagine how maddening the constant surveillance must be. Honestly, it was sort of a miracle that she hadn't blown up anything but Cenred's wine. Hopefully the promise of their escape would prevent another incident.

A day and a half, and they would be gone.

It felt like years since he'd last set foot in Ealdor. Last time he'd walked these paths, it had been as a simple manservant and healer-trainee, son of a peasant woman and a former slave. Now, though, his parents had essentially disappeared from the village, and he himself was exposed as so much more than these people had assumed: a warlock, an infiltrator, the mage who had defeated Cornelius Sigan, the face of the magical resistance movement.

So it was with a sense of… dichotomy, he supposed, that he trod through the dirt streets to Will's house. Not many people were out at this late hour, but those who saw him startled and began to mutter. Their gazes followed Ealdor's most infamous native all the way to Will's doorstep. They watched him knock, watched Will answer and greet him with a hug and bring him inside.

It was a relief to duck away from all those staring, judging eyes.

"What're you doing here, running around in plain sight?" his old friend demanded. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but gods, Merlin, they all know what you are now."

"I wanted them to see me," the warlock replied quietly. "Will, I have bad news. You know how Cenred is supposed to marry my friend Morgana?"

"He thinks he's going to marry her," Will corrected. He'd met the witch only once, but she must have made quite the impression. No wonder. Morgana was an impressive woman. "What happened?"

"Earlier tonight, an untrained spellbinder I know accidentally blew up a goblet of wine in Cenred's face." Despite the grimness of his message, Merlin felt his lips twitch. Will, too, smiled, though his died down rather quickly. "Uther hates me more than literally anyone at this point, and he's not exactly sane, so he decided that I was the one responsible." Will's eyes widened. He understood. "I don't know if Cenred believed him or if he plans to take action, but I had to warn the town."

His friend started pacing back and forth, back and forth. "And you can't tell the rest of the village about your magical friend, because then Uther will tear the palace apart to find him."

"Yes, he would. There has been enough blood shed already. I don't want more to fall in Camelot or here."

"Uther hated you already, you said?" At his friend's nod, Will continued, "Then just tell everyone you're worried about Cenred making a gift of your hometown to someone who hates your guts."

"Good plan." He probably should have thought of it himself, but the idea of Ealdor burning just because he'd been born here had paralyzed his mind. "That's good." He'd been quietly panicky ever since Gwen had summoned him. Actually, now that he thought of it…. "I just had an idea. What if I made you an amulet too?"

"An amulet?" Will's eyes lit up. "Would it, I don't know, conjure impenetrable armor and an unbreakable, enormous sword?"

"No, although that would be utterly excellent. I don't know how to make something like that, but I can enchant something to summon me."

Will frowned at him. "What, so you can take on an entire party of soldiers by yourself?"

"If I have to," Merlin answered coolly. "Although I'm not certain why that's any less foolhardy than you singlehandedly taking them down with that hypothetical sword and armor."

"Impenetrable armor," Will sniffed.

"That wouldn't stop them from sitting on you."

"They could sit on you too, you twig."

The two friends glared mock-haughtily at each other for a few moments, then broke out into grins. "I missed you," Merlin said softly. "You're always welcome on the Isle, you know."

"I have to watch after my sisters. Eggplant Ed's been making eyes at Maisie."

"The nerve of him."

Will sighed. "But I suppose you ought to deliver your news to everybody else before someone works up the courage to break my door down. There's probably quite a crowd out there by now."

There was. No one was feeling brave enough to knock, but that didn't stop the villagers from lingering. A haze of murmurs erupted when Merlin stepped back outside. He caught only a few words.

"Dangerous."

"His eyes…."

"Trouble."

"Sorcerer."

There was no point in explaining that he was actually a warlock. Merlin raised his hand for silence, watched a hush roll over them in a wave.

"Cenred and Uther are allies now," he announced, his voice clear and calm even though his insides quivered. All these people, men and women he'd known since infancy, knew what he was. They knew he had magic, that he was fighting loudly and publicly for the rights of his people.

But these were his people too, in a way, even though few of them had been overly kind to the foundling's bastard. They shared no blood, but they'd worked the fields together, listened to the same gossip, fought the same bandits. He would not deny those bonds.

"Uther despises me," the warlock continued. "I think he might hate me more than anyone else, since I was so close and did so much damage to his cause. By now, Cenred knows how much Uther wants me dead, and even if neither of them can find me, it wouldn't take them long to find Ealdor."

The murmurs resumed, a resentful current running through them.

"I don't know if you're actually in any danger. Hopefully you aren't. Hopefully I'm just being paranoid. But you need to be prepared, just in case."

The wind whirled around him, and he was gone.

Marrok was fidgeting, casting anxious glances at Leon. "Is something wrong?" Lancelot inquired.

The probably-magical squire didn't answer at first. Then the words burst out in a great gush. "Did anyone notice anything unusual about the princess? Or her nurse. I think that there's… something wrong about them."

"Why would you say that?" wondered Elyan. "Elena's a bit odd, but I wouldn't exactly call her wrong."

Marrok hunched in on himself and did not answer.

"He has good instincts," Leon stated. "Do you think that her nurse has enchanted her?"

"No, that's not what I—think. But she's connected to it, whatever it is."

"We don't even know if it exists," Elyan pointed out. "Not every personality quirk means that someone's been enchanted. That's the kind of thinking that can get innocents killed."

"I know that," Marrok snapped. "And I'm not going to say anything to them, not without proof. But I didn't like the way that nurse looked at her, and I definitely didn't like—" But here he cut himself off with such force that his nose twitched.

"It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on them," Lancelot suggested.

"Especially if Elena is the lily," Percival added.

Gwaine sucked in a breath. "That would make sense though, wouldn't it? If there's something weird and magical about the girl he's supposed to 'let grow.'"

"Yes!" Leon seized on the point like a dog with a bone. "It can't hurt to do a little bit of investigation, not if we keep quiet. If it's nothing, we'll only have wasted some time, but if it's something, then we need to act."

"He's right," Lancelot agreed. "How should we proceed?"

"Shameless spying, of course," proclaimed Gwaine. "We spy on the princess, we spy on the nurse, we spy on everyone who's acting even a little bit suspicious."

"I think it's just them," Marrok mumbled. "At least, I haven't—seen anybody else like them." The poor thing was completely rigid, his face a few shades whiter than usual."

"Will you tell us if you see anyone else who tweaks your instincts?"

A jerky nod.

"You know," Gwaine said, "having a warlock around would be quite useful right about now. I certainly wouldn't complain if anybody in this room were to confess to convenient magical powers."

Almost every eye turned to Marrok. The only exceptions were Leon, who glared bloody murder at Gwaine, and the squire himself, whose considerably more panicked gaze was also locked on the loudmouthed rogue.

"I'm not a warlock," the boy (and he really was just a boy) choked. "I'll swear any oath you want, but I am not a warlock or a sorcerer or, or anything like that."

"And I'll second the oath," Leon half-growled.

"And we will drop the subject," Lancelot guaranteed, elbowing Gwaine. "No one is saying that anyone here has magic—although if anyone did, I for one would put him under my protection." He glared at the other knights until they agreed with the former sentiment as well as the latter.

If Marrok didn't want to confess, he understood completely. The squire had grown up in Camelot, had seen Uther's wrath firsthand. Paranoia must be second nature to him, even around those who wanted only to help.

Merlin had been afraid too. Lancelot wished the other warlock was here, a mentor and friend and example. But he wasn't, and Marrok had every right to deny his magical nature.

"So," Lancelot said, "how does one go about investigating an enchanted princess?"

"You can call it spying, you know," Elyan muttered. "But she thought she'd marry Arthur, right? So they'd expect us to pay more attention to her. Just don't do anything suspicious, and let everyone else know what you see."

"Let's maybe plan it out in a bit more detail," Lancelot suggested. "Any other suggestions?"

Gwaine nodded. "I might have a few."

Alternate chapter title: "In Which Merlin Didn't Actually do Anything, but he's Still Blamed for all that is Wrong in the World"

Next chapter: February 14. Something is indeed wrong with the princess, which means that the knights have their own little side quest to keep them busy. Morgana is once again forced to refrain from exploding Cenred's head. Arthur takes care of his people.

Is Marrok telling the truth about not being a warlock or sorcerer? How did he really know that Grunhilda and Elena were off? What does Leon know? (Also, why am I so obsessed with this minor plot thread? Seriously, I don't even know.)