Author's Note: This is the next installment. Please read and review!
Morgana and Arthur rolled their eyes at each other from across the table. Despite the fact that the table could fit almost twenty people, there were only five seated there that day. At the head of the table sat Uther, as always. To his right was his queen, Vivienne. Sitting next to her, was Morgana. Arthur sat on Uther's other side with their brother, Mordred, sitting next to him.
Arthur reflected on what today meant. It had been nine years and ten months since Morgana and Vivienne (both of which Arthur automatically hated) came to the castle. It had been nine years and nine months since Vivienne and Uther, overcome with love for each other, got married. It had been exactly nine years since they had their child Mordred.
It wasn't that Arthur and Morgana didn't like Mordred, it really wasn't. They just hated that their parents had a child together. Morgana was convinced that Uther forced her mother into it, and Arthur was convinced that Uther was betraying Ygraine. Overall, they just didn't like. And they tended to take their anger out on poor Mordred.
The reason for the earlier eye roll was Vivienne and Uther literally cooing over Mordred. Arthur thought back to when he was that age. He had been lucky if Uther even realized that he was alive. The young prince was sure that if Sir Leon hadn't reminded him, his father wouldn't even remember his birthday. Leon always said that wasn't true, but being here, nineteen years old and more than a little sick of it all, Arthur was willing to forgo his old sibling rivalry with Morgana to share in her misery.
As was usual with their luck, Vivienne had looked at Morgana at that very instant, catching both her and Arthur's eye rolls. Vivienne, however, just smiled in understanding and smacked Uther lightly on the arm, telling him to not spoil the child. Uther just beamed and agreed.
That was one of the few good things that came from Morgana and Vivienne's arrival: Uther really was in love. He had become a kinder father and better king. Together, they could conquer worlds.
And it made Arthur sick.
He really didn't understand the attraction of love. In his opinion, it just got in the way. It corrupted as much as, if not more than, magic. He made a silent vow to himself that he would never fall in love and he would never let emotions cloud his judgment.
Uther spoke then, jarring Arthur out of his musings, "Arthur, I expect you and Morgana to be present tomorrow at the execution. Some boy by the last name Collins was caught using magic and his head will be chopped off." His voice was expressionless as he condemned someone to death and Arthur felt shivers roll down his spine. He nodded his understanding before asking to be excused. Uther nodded graciously and Morgana soon followed. Arthur could feel Vivienne's emerald gaze follow him.
Morgana caught up to Arthur, their servants falling in behind them as they talked. Morgana began, "Arthur, you must convince Uther to let me skip the execution."
Arthur winced, he knew how much Morgana hated to watch them. He hated it too, "I don't know Morgana. You know how much he wants to portray the family image. I don't think even Vivienne could convince him to let you stay inside."
Morgana chewed the inside of her cheek in frustration. Arthur could tell she was near tears, so he started on a different path. It was a few minutes before Morgana realized that they weren't heading to Arthur's chambers. She asked, "Where are we going?"
Arthur sighed, "We are going to the physician's chambers to ask him if he can diagnose you as too sick to participate in the ceremonies tomorrow."
The prince shook his head, slightly exasperated at the way Morgana's entire face lit up. He sighed again as he heard their servants whispering to each other behind them, "Come on already."
Morgana's face settled into its more familiar sneer and she waltzed down the hallway, her heels clicking against the floor, "What, are you afraid you won't be able to catch up?" Arthur breathed in several times before he deemed himself calm enough to continue. No matter, Arthur thought to himself, I can always just take my anger out on Ralph during training. He smiled smugly to himself and continued after his sister.
The Caves were filled with packed crates and running people. Merlin deftly navigated his way around them, following the twisting turns and curves from rote memory.
They were moving. Again. In the past seven years, the Resistance had moved twelve times. Somehow they always ended up back in the Caves, but that didn't mean that they were coming back this time.
After a few more minutes and about fifteen turns later, Merlin found his father pacing in his room. This room had always been his father's, but now, all of his things were packed into crates and pushed onto some wagon or another.
Balinor looked up, "Ah, Merlin, there you are! I've wanted to see you!"
"Um, yeah," Merlin answered, slightly shocked that he was being pulled into a hug, "That's why I came to your chambers."
Merlin heard Nimueh's musical laugh coming from the interconnected room, Morgause's snort accompanying it. The young warlock raised his eyebrow at his father and Balinor smiled.
Nimueh and Morgause came into the room right as Merlin asked, "What's going on? What's wrong?" Merlin heard Morgause give a little half sob and he turned to her, pulling her into a hug even though he didn't know what was wrong.
Nimueh's smile was a little watery when she answered, "You're not moving with us Merlin."
His eyes widened and he stepped back, making sure everyone was in his peripheral vision, "What do you mean?" His voice was slightly hysterical, but he mastered and demanded, "Tell me what's going on."
Balinor picked up where his wife had left off, "You know that we informed the council of our decision to send someone to infiltrate the castle, right? Good. Well, we asked the council to give us candidates. They all said that you would be the best choice. You are our smartest, our strongest, our bravest, and our most dedicated member. You are the best choice."
He stopped and Nimueh, her voice stronger now, finished, "You will find a way to get close to the royal family. Gaius is there to help you as much as he can. He will not outright disobey his king, but he will not abandon his friends either. We will be in contact, but you cannot know where we are. When the time is right, we will strike and you can come home, but until then…" She left the statement hanging.
Merlin swallowed with difficulty. There was no way they were sending him away. Balinor, Morgause, Nimueh, they were his family. He wouldn't leave them! And what about their people? If what they said about him was true, then why would they send him away where he couldn't protect his people?
Merlin shook his head to clear it of such thoughts and took a deep, slow breath. He could do this. He would do this. For his father. For Nimueh. For Morgause. For his people.
His father informed him that he would set out that very night with nothing but a satchel and the clothes on his back. He told him that he was going to have to pretend to be a country bumpkin as much as he could. His father also told him that he loved him and was proud.
When Merlin set off to Camelot that night, his family and friends' kind words propelled him through the darkness and to his new home.