XV.
For a moment, it is as if time has frozen.
Arthur's fingers rest against the pommel of his sword, but they make no move to curl around it. He just stands there, looking at the sorceress, spellbound.
And Merlin stands behind, looking at both of them, fear like a toxin in his blood, slowing his every thought to a crawl.
Not again.
This cannot happen again.
Arthur snaps out of it first, drawing the sword with less grace than is his usual, dropping into a crouch. Merlin has come to admire Arthur's skill, his ability to size up an opponent in a moment, to suss out weakness and exploit it to his favor. But if there is weakness in this sorceress, it is not for Arthur to exploit, to defeat.
Merlin steps forward, closes a hand around Arthur's bicep, thrusts him back, fully ignoring Arthur's indignant squawk. It has always been his lot to protect from the shadows, to hope he can do enough without anyone knowing; were the situation not so dire, he might have had time to indulge in the thrill of being able to actually stand between Arthur and the danger for once, to make known his claim of protection over the prince with his head lifted high. To say, in a voice that is so low and dangerous and authoritative that it is almost not his own, "You keep away from him."
The sorceress is tall and beautiful, with dark hair and dark eyes and a smile that seems, now, almost fond. "I mean your prince no harm, Emrys," She says.
The name pricks at his skin. He has to make an effort not to look back; he doesn't want to see Arthur's face, his reaction, not in this moment. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."
She cants her head to one side, as if acknowledging his point. "There is nothing to fear now," She offers, as if this is somehow a counter. "You have passed the test."
"I solved your riddle days ago!" Merlin snaps, feeling magic surge in his veins at the fierceness of his emotion. "In the meantime, I could have been killed!"
"No, I don't think so," The sorceress says, her voice low and thoughtful, her eyes straying from his face. Although he cannot see Arthur, Merlin knows she has pinned him again with her gaze. "And anyway, you have both passed the test. As I believed you would."
"Don't look at him," Merlin insists, stepping again into her eye line, stepping again between Arthur and the threat. Yes, this is something he could get used to. "Address me. Tell me who you are."
Her expression is almost dry when she looks at him again. This, now, is a look he is familiar with: it is an expression that says mind your betters, boy. He lifts his chin, daring her to express the sentiment aloud. Things are in the open now, and he will be happy to demonstrate just who has more power. Again, magic stirs in his veins, tingles at the tips of his fingers. With the exception of Arthur, he has nothing else to lose; and, if all he will ever be allowed to have of Arthur again is the assurance of his physical safety, well, he will cling to that with all that he is.
But after a moment, the sorceress steps back. Her face softens; her head dips. "I will not be able to explain to your satisfaction now, Emrys," She says. "But what is Fate, really, save the workings of Chance?"
She's as bad as the Dragon. "No riddles," Merlin says. The same words he last threw at the Dragon, but he says them now with more authority, more deadly calm. "Just tell it to me straight."
"But what would Magic be if everything about it were plain?" She counters with a smile.
And then, holding out a hand, eyes spinning brilliant gold, she says, "Edhwierft!"
And the world fades.