Chapter Four: The Nature of Magic

"Gwaine," Leon rumbled, disapproval evident. "We'll discuss this later."

The brunet flinched at that tone, swallowing hard. "You know, you sound just like the princess when you talk like that."

"Princ…" Elyan paled dramatically. "Gwen is going to kill me!"

His fellow constables eyed him for several long moments, then Gwaine mumbled, "Sucks to be you, mate. Maybe next time, you shouldn't die on her like that."

"Die on her?" Sarge demanded, voice jumping an octave. "All right, what the hell is going on?"

All six constables winced, shrinking away from their Sergeant. Even in the midst of their fight with each other, there had been one thing they all agreed on. The Sarge could never know, but now…now it was impossible to hide and just as impossible to explain.

Lieutenant Parker cleared his throat, pulling attention to himself once more. One eyebrow arched at Elyan. "I presume 'Gwen' would be your sister, Guinevere, Constable Coulby?"

"Yes, sir," Elyan confirmed, rubbing a hand through his short stubbly hair. "You…you know everything, don't you?"

"Most of it," their stocky superior confirmed. One hand tapped the diary on the table. "Sergeant, please bear with me. It's a bit of a long explanation and parts are not mine to tell." At the grudging, demanding glare, Parker sighed and flicked a glance at Mordred. "I don't suppose you ever met Geoffrey, did you?"

"No, he didn't," Leon interjected before Mordred could reply. "He never knew Lancelot; there was no need."

The lieutenant accepted that with a nod and drew in a deep breath. "Troy, as I said, it's a long complicated story, but the short version is that your constables were all given a second chance at life."

"And who were they before?" Sarge demanded suspiciously. "What, they served in King Arthur's court or something?"

The constables winced at their Sergeant's scathing tone, but Parker met that skepticism calmly. "Yes, they did, actually. They were the Knights of the Round Table."

"You're joking." Sarge shook his head, incredulous. "Look, sir, we've taken a lot from you and Team One. Wizards, magic, Ani-whatsies, you being dead for a couple months – fine, whatever, we can roll with that. But now you're trying to tell me that my men got reincarnated and they used to run around with armor and swords and horses, killing monsters for some king in his little stone castle?"

Reflexively, the constables stiffened at the insults to their king – even Mordred ground his teeth behind Sarge's back – but their lieutenant never turned a hair. "Gentlemen, a question for you. Who was Merlin to King Arthur?"

"His manservant," Elyan replied at once, blinking in surprise at the question.

"Best friend," Gwaine opined. "Best mates I ever saw, even if they'd never admit it, not to each other or anyone else." Brown eyes rolled. "Gods have mercy on you if Merlin got hurt though, 'cause the princess sure wouldn't."

"Neither would you," Elyan pointed out.

" 'Course not," the brash, vain former knight agreed, grinning broadly. "Merlin's the first friend I ever had!"

"Merlin was more than that," Mordred put in, quiet, but intense. "He was the king's foremost advisor and his greatest protector."

"Protector?" Elyan echoed, frowning, but Gwaine burst out laughing, doubling over as he howled.

"Do you hear yourself, mate?" he demanded after several gut-wrenching guffaws, still chuckling in between words. "Merlin trips over thin air; how could he protect anything?"

"Gwaine, enough," Leon reproved. "Mordred is right, though Arthur never would have admitted it. Merlin was often the only one between Arthur and treachery more times than I care to remember."

"Every time he was accused of magic, the accuser turned out to be a threat," Percival agreed, crossing broad arms. "Even when he wasn't, I always kept an eye on anyone he didn't like."

"It was a useful shorthand," Elyan conceded. "Was there ever a time when he was wrong?"

"He once covered for Arthur's solo excursions with a banished Sidhe (2), enduring various punishments from King Uther three times before he discovered the Sidhe and her father had come to Camelot to kill Arthur by drowning him in the lake of Avalon," Lancelot interjected, smirking at the astonished looks he received.

"How come he told you all the good stories?" Gwaine complained. "All he ever told me was about how he and the princess got in a fight the second time they ever met and the princess kept tripping over stuff."

Lancelot's smirk grew wider. "Only because Merlin kept moving things into his path with magic, Gwaine."

Gwaine jerked to a halt, staring at Lancelot. "Pull the other one, mate. Merlin's no more magic than I am."

The former knight shook his head even as Lieutenant Parker snickered and Sarge choked in disbelief. "No, Gwaine. Merlin is the greatest Sorcerer who has ever lived, past, present, or future." Turning towards their Sergeant, he added, "But he is also the peasant boy who stood up to an arrogant prince and changed that prince from a spoiled brat to the King of Legend. From the beginning to the very end, Merlin was always at Arthur's back, guarding him from any threat that sought to take his life or his kingdom. Only once did his protection ever falter and that was truly the King's end, upon the field at Camlann."

Elyan and Gwaine were struck dumb, but Leon straightened, frowning. "How do you know that, Lancelot? You were the first of us to fall, at the Isle of the Blessed."

Their Sergeant gawked all over again at the mention of dying, but Lancelot flinched. Shame filtered into hazel eyes an instant before they dropped. For several moments, his jaw worked and shivers wracked his frame. "I remember, Leon. I remember when she called me back, when her magic bound me to her will with that accurséd coin."

The tall, curly-haired brunet paled in horror. "When you were a Shade, you were aware of it?"

The shivers grew worse, but Lancelot did not reply. How could he? There were no words to describe how it had felt when Morgana's power had curled around his soul, dragging him back to the land of the living and enslaving him to her will so completely that his own identity and memories had been buried. He still didn't know if Merlin's attempt to stop him had failed because of Morgana's magic or his own. Regardless, even if Guinevere and Arthur forgave him for his unwilling treachery, he would not. He would never forget and never forgive either Morgana or himself.

"Merlin freed me from her power, but I was bound to her fate," the former knight explained, muscles tightening as he stared at the ground, refusing to meet his teammates' horrified gazes. "She was not aware of it, but from the moment Merlin freed me, I was a shadow at her back. I saw all that she did and heard all that she ordered done." A convulsive swallow vibrated. "When at last she fell, her soul was banished to the Netherworld." And so was mine.

"What's the Netherworld?" Elyan demanded, fury ringing.

Lieutenant Parker responded before he could. "It's a demon realm," he explained, just as terse as Lancelot himself. The lean constable stiffened as he felt his stocky superior's gaze. "I was only there a few days. I can't even imagine how bad it would've been for centuries."

"Where's the justice in that?" Gwaine hissed, outraged. "How can that Witch's actions condemn a good man's soul to hell?"

"If that is what magic can do, I want no part of it," Elyan agreed, just as angry.

"Do not!" Lancelot snapped, head coming up and a fierce intensity shining in his hazel eyes. "You have no right to judge what you do not understand!" Magic seemed to gleam around him as his chin rose, as proud and defiant as a wild gryphon. His black hair moved in an unseen breeze and there was no mistaking the authority that rang in each word. "Magic is part of this world, as old as Time Itself and ordained by the Lion and His Father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. What Morgana saw fit to use for Darkness, the Lion was pleased to allow that a far greater Good might come of it." Both hands spread, the knight's glare silencing any response. "Because I was bound to Morgana's fate, Merlin crafted a spell to enter the Netherworld and free me. Because Camelot had fallen by the time he did so, he left his spell to my nephew." Hazel flicked briefly to Lieutenant Parker. "Because he left his spell to my nephew, when Geoffrey's descendant was banished to the Netherworld, there was a way to bring him home. And because all of that occurred, two lost souls were saved that day." A harsh swallow, right before he forced the last bit out. "I was a blind fool. I chose not to use my magic, nor call upon the Lion for aid at the Isle of the Blessed. Had I called upon Him, there would have been no need for a sacrifice to seal the Veil between Life and Death. He would have commanded the Veil be sealed and punished the Cailleach (3) for allowing it to be sundered in the first place. My fate was of my own choice and my own making."

"You didn't know what would happen!" Percival argued, just as determined as his teammate. "And magic was against the laws of Camelot!"

"That never stopped Merlin," Lancelot countered. "It should not have stopped me either. So long as those of magic hid in the shadows and allowed a few rogues to blacken our reputation, the laws would not – could not – change."

"Uther never would have permitted magic's return," Leon ground out. "He spent far too many years stamping it out to ever change his mind. Had you or Merlin revealed your magic during his reign, beheading would have been the greatest mercy you could expect."

"That is so," Lancelot agreed. "But Arthur was different. There was a time when he might have seen magic for what it truly was and then bided his time until he ascended the throne. If he had seen it wielded by one he trusted, I do not believe he would have judged magic as harshly as Uther did."

"Unless he saw it as a betrayal," Gwaine cut in, indignant.

Lancelot's jaw tightened and he shook his head. "If he had seen but a tenth of what Merlin went through on his behalf, he would not have called it betrayal, Gwaine. By the Lion, Merlin sacrificed everything for Arthur's sake. Time after time, Merlin stood as the kingdom's sole defender against those who would use magic for evil. Never once was he acknowledged for that, nor for the many losses he took in that lonely battle. His best friend. His father. His lover."

"You," Percival interjected, sorrow shining. "You knew of his power, didn't you?"

The black-haired knight inclined his head, not arguing the point. "I did. I discovered his magic during my first visit to Camelot, before I became a knight. I kept quiet; how could I not? He'd used it to save my life and I had magic of my own. It was plain he was nothing like the sorcerers who attacked Camelot, intent on taking revenge for the Purge." With a sigh, the knight-turned-constable ran a hand through his hair, displacing his short locks.

Shrewd hazel shifted to Gwaine and Elyan, unyielding. "You cannot judge all of magic based on her actions. Nor can you judge all of magic because of what I went through. I will not claim that my time as a Shade or my banishment in the Netherworld was good, but there was a purpose behind it. Not Morgana's purpose, the Lion's. And when the time came, I was released, as He willed." A tiny smirk appeared. "Morgana and Tolay were not best pleased, but they could no more stop Him than they could stop the sun from rising each day." Cocking his head to the side, Lancelot added, "In the end, my friends, Darkness has no power over the Light. It cannot stand in the Light, for it may only thrive in Light's absence. A single word may fell it, as it did in the Netherworld."

"One name and Tolay was finished," Lieutenant Parker agreed. "Once He intervened, Morgana couldn't do anything either."

Lancelot smiled, reminded of those final moments, when Aslan had freed his soul from Morgana's chains. "Yes," he whispered.

"Wait a second," Sarge interrupted, a dawning horror in his voice beyond anything Lancelot's fellow constables had shown. "You were still imprisoned in the Netherworld when Parker was there?"

Leon frowned. "That's impossible," he countered. "We were all on Team Four by then. How could Lancelot be in two places at once?"

"As the Lion willed, so it happened," Lancelot insisted. "I do not pretend to understand how it happened, Leon, but it is so." Hazel shifted towards his nephew's descendent. "I did not remember until that day when my power woke, but I will be forever grateful that your team and your young cousins came after you."

The stocky man nodded once, solemn, then flicked a glance at Gwaine and Elyan. "I'm not sure what I can add to that, but Lancelot's right. Most magic is neutral and it depends on how it's used as to whether it's good or evil."

"If a person's magic is twisted, they can become evil," Mordred offered quietly. "But that can happen without any magic at all."

"Stockholm Syndrome," Leon muttered, earning a nod from Elyan, his fellow negotiator on the team. "But what of necromancy?"

Sheer rage contorted Mordred's features for an instant. "Necromancy is the Blackest of the Black Arts," he insisted. "All of history denounces its use, Leon, and my people would have cast out anyone who wielded such magic without hesitation. The dead are sacred."

"Creating a phylactery is worse, but not by much," Lancelot mused. At the odd looks, he allowed a mirthless grin. "A soul anchor. It allows one to cheat Death, at the cost of splitting your own soul. Morgana considered crafting one, but believed her status as a High Priestess was sufficient protection." The grin widened, turning feral. "Merlin and his dragon-forged blade disagreed."

The whole room contemplated the explanation for several seconds, then Leon cleared his throat, deliberately nonchalant. "Lancelot? You're related to Lieutenant Parker?"

Startled, the raven nodded, wary at where his teammate was going with the question.

Leon frowned thoughtfully and shifted towards their superior. "And that gryphon form of yours is a family talent, am I right, sir?"

"It is," Lieutenant Parker confirmed, just as wary as the constable's teammates.

The curly-haired brunet considered the response, frown deepening before he glanced back at Lancelot. "So when that griffin came to Camelot at the same time as you did, why did it attack you when you're a gryphon Animagus?"

Lancelot stiffened, shooting his team leader a disgusted glare, then said, in a very flat tone, "We disagreed on whose territory it was."

Off to the side, Gwaine tilted his head, pondering the reply. Then, in an innocent tone that fooled no one, he inquired, "Who won the argument?"

[2] Faeries who inhabit the Isle of Avalon, they are considered immortal and masters of enchantment, but are also described as a cruel race of beings. A banished Sidhe is forced into human form and thus subject to mortality, but may return to Avalon if they sacrifice a mortal prince in the lake of Avalon.

[3] The gatekeeper and guardian of the Veil between Life and Death