Strongest of the Warlocks: Chapter Twenty-Three: Reunion of Hearts
AN: So, you guys might've noticed the chapter count went down by four, that's because the first four chapters were removed because, based on the direction this fic is going in, what happened in those chapters doesn't make much sense and went more strictly with staying as close to canon as possible and we're kind of becoming canon-adjacent at this point.
The sheer excitement about Merlin potentially bringing the Perilous Lands back gives me so much joy and the overflowing love for Merlin and Percival has made me so happy.
The grass was green, prickling under her feet as she walked, turning to survey the world around her in awe. She'd only gotten a brief glimpse of it the last time she'd fallen asleep, but the kingdom of Elmet, the Perilous Lands, was beautiful, far more beautiful than Camelot could hope to achieve.
The world around her was flushed with life and with magic, it was like coming home, that was how it felt the first time she'd stepped foot in the Perilous Lands.
"Magic has arrived!" Grettir had proclaimed at the bridge, smile bright and kind, bowing slightly as she -all of twelve summers- clung to Iseldir's hand.
She'd stood at the edge of a barren land and had only felt awe, turning to Iseldir, tears falling from blazing golden eyes. "Iseldir," she'd barely breathed, "I'm home."
Merlin's fingers brushed against tall-springing flowers as she wandered through. The sun was shining and there was a figure sitting at the edge of a nearby lake, a bald head with a heavy ringlet crown and thick robes.
"Welcome, Emrys," his aged voice spoke clearly, turning to see her standing there. "At last we meet."
"Who—?" Merlin frowned, looking him over. "Wait…I've seen you before…I know you…don't I?"
The man smiled kindly. "You have always seen so clearly, Emrys…I never expected you to recognize me. I believe you mostly saw me as an apparition shrouded in mist."
The realization dawned. Of course! Merlin had always been a carefree sort of child, unafraid of wandering off. A few times she could've sworn she'd seen a man cloaked in mist, the very man before her now, but her mother had always just patted her head and told her she had a wild imagination.
"Hello," the Fisher King said, because who else could he possibly be. "Well met, Princess."
The word sank in Merlin's stomach like iron. "I'm sorry," she sputtered, "what?"
That amused him. "You stand in Elmet, more at home than you've ever been and still you doubt your right to it? But I suppose arrogance has never been a part of who you are…is it, Emrys?"
"Don't have the luxury for it," Merlin conceded. "I'm good at what I do, but someone else could be better; I try not to worry about things like that."
The Fisher King chuckled before pulling himself into a standing position, ambling slowly over to her, standing before her. He was a few stark inches taller than her and Merlin could see an amulet adorning his neck and rings about his fingers that hummed with magic. He held out his hand to her and Merlin slid her fingers into his grasp automatically.
He brushed his lips against her knuckles before smoothing his thumb across them, magic thrumming around them.
"Your name," Merlin realized, "it's…Cian."
The man smiled. "So, it was…the Fisher King was a title, a gift from the Goddess, and I have worn it well and for a long time, indeed."
"She gave you the title Fisher King?" Merlin's eyes widened in awe. She had never heard of the Goddess speaking to anyone, gifting them with a title. Merlin herself had never heard the Goddess' words, though she had believed in her for as long as she was old enough to understand where her magic came from.
"Indeed, just as she gave you the name Emrys."
Merlin rolled her eyes. "No, the druids gave me that one."
"And where do you think they got the idea?" Cian arched his eyebrow.
Merlin opened her mouth and then paused, startled. She could still remember when Iseldir had first used the name Emrys for her before switching to 'Lady Merlin' when he knew it would annoy her, giving her a smile and dropping a hand to the top of her head.
He squeezed her fingers. "We'll meet one day very soon in the flesh, Emrys, and I will look forward to the meeting very much, then all will be explained."
"I don't understand," Merlin insisted before everything faded into blackness.
Merlin could feel the throbbing ache of her injuries as she came around with a low hiss. Her few fingers splinted, her body bruised, the deep cut at the side of her face newly stitched.
Then her heart positively stopped.
Sitting next to her bed was the last person she expected and the one she wanted most. Percival hadn't changed much in the two years since she'd seen him last, still with those soulful blue eyes, lighter, like the color of the sky, short cropped hair, and muscles that could always lift her with ease.
His smile was exactly as she remembered. She lifted a hand cautiously to touch his cheek lightly; it was warm under her fingers.
"Are you—" Merlin's voice was cracked and broken in several place, more of a rasp than actual speech. "Are you real?"
Percival's smile softened as he brought her hand gently to his mouth, pressing three kisses against her palm, not breaking contact with her eyes. Merlin's heart throbbed in her chest. "Do I feel real?"
Merlin tried to speak only to cough harshly and flop tiredly back against the pillows. "I've had Percival hallucinations before," she managed to croak.
Percival's face colored with concern as he took a cup from the bedside and offered it to her. Merlin drank gratefully.
"Morgana read me your letter," she told him finally.
"Oh?" Percival hummed, reaching out a hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. The casual touch made her skin tingle. "And?"
"I thought it was…beautiful," Merlin managed to force out, doing her best to not to look at him because she knew it would unravel her.
"Just beautiful?" Percival's smile turned roguish as he used a finger to lift her chin, forcing their eyes to meet.
"I thought I'd keep it short and sweet for you," Merlin said vaguely. He was as distracting as he had been two years ago, only this time she was having a hard time focusing because he was now sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning so that one hand was pressed into the mattress on her opposite side.
"Is that so?"
Merlin raised her hand a second time to cup his cheek, smoothing her thumb across his cheekbone. "Two years and you haven't changed."
"Two years and you've grown more beautiful," Percival returned.
"Goddess, Percival!" Her cheeks bloomed with a rich red. "You're always saying these things!"
He laughed and they both had to start suddenly at the sound of a sharp knock at the door. Gwen's head peeked around the door and smiled in relief to see Merlin in such good spirits. "Merlin! You're looking better."
"Sleep helps." Merlin yawned widely as Gwen set a tray beside her on the bed. "You and Morgana don't have to—"
"I know," Gwen said quickly, "but we want to…you're our friend, we're supposed to look after each other." Her eyes glinted. "Though I think your Percival here has done the most to get your spirits up."
Her eyes had flicked to their interlocked fingers and Merlin turned pink, the color deepening when Percival kissed her knuckles.
"Arthur needs to talk to you," Gwen added a bit awkwardly. "He's waiting outside."
Merlin grimaced, but Arthur was far better than Uther by far.
"Do you want me to let him in?"
At long last, Merlin nodded.
She looked older, Arthur realized, with her hair hanging freely, even sinking into Morgana's clothes as she was. Older and far more tired than he'd even seen her.
Her hand held the man, Percival's, tightly, like she was afraid he would turn into smoke and leave her. Percival was not what Arthur had been expecting when Morgana had mentioned the man Merlin loved. He'd expected someone more…scholarly, gangly and slight, like her…but Percival was a man, taller than Arthur, and he had the look about him like he was someone that could push rocks off ledges without hardly any help.
And he looked at Merlin like she was the world, like she was everything that mattered.
"Cenred had heard about me…rumors about my skills," Merlin told him, her voice still weak. "Among the druids I'm revered for my healing abilities."
"He thought you were a sorceress," Arthur realized, the word like ash in his mouth and Merlin flinched. Percival squeezed her hand soothingly.
"I don't know why he wanted a sorcerer's help in the first place, or why he decided to keep me in the dungeons instead of killing me." Merlin shrugged. "He didn't quite believe me when I said I didn't have magic…breaking my bones and cutting into me didn't change the answer, so I just…stopped."
"You just…stopped?" Arthur's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Talking," Merlin said flatly. "Didn't seem much of a point to it, it wasn't like he believed me in the first place."
"He didn't ask anything about Camelot, nothing like that?" Arthur pressed, keeping his voice low, remembering how she'd reacted the last time a man had raised his voice to her.
"No…he was never interested in that." Merlin frowned. "He asked me about my father once, which I thought was strange…" She glanced to Percival briefly.
"I thought you didn't know your father?" Percival frowned.
"I don't," Merlin agreed, "which was why his interest in my father is so strange…but no, I didn't say anything about Camelot." Her eyes fixed on Arthur sharply. "You can tell your father that, and that if I never see him again it'll be too soon."
Arthur wasn't surprised by her anger, but it still twinged in his chest where his unbreakable loyalty to his father rested. "Look, I get that you don't like my father—"
"He's a genocidal tyrant that rules through fear, what's not to like?" Merlin nearly snarled.
"Hey!" Arthur snapped and regretted it, because Merlin recoiled and flinched hard like she was expecting to be hit.
Arthur rubbed his head and took in a deep breath as Percival kissed her knuckles several times in a soothing succession. "I'm sorry," he apologized, and he meant it. It was only fun to scare Merlin when they were on a more equal ground, and they definitely weren't now. "And I'm sorry about…I should've tried harder to find you." His eyes trailed from her splinted fingers and the deep stitched line at her brow.
"You couldn't see in the dark," Merlin sighed, "it wasn't your fault…" Her eyes were unfocused, fixed on something that couldn't be seen outside the window.
The knock at the door made her jump and an armored guard stuck his head inside. "Sire, the King requests your presence."
"I'll be right there," Arthur said before turning back to Merlin with a pain look on his face. "Merlin…there's something else…when we escorted your mother back to Ealdor, we found out that the bandits had killed one of the townspeople, a young man named Will."
Merlin breathed in sharply, her free hand clenching into a fist at her chest. "What?" she hardly dared to breathe.
Will, Hunith had said, was Merlin's closest friend in childhood.
"I'm sorry," Arthur said quietly, squeezing her shoulder with as much empathy as he could as her tears began to fall and her shoulders began to shake.
He shut the door behind him but it wasn't enough to silence her sobs.
The crops were dead, all throughout the kingdom, like they'd been wiped out in a single night. The water had turned to sand.
"This is why you don't kill unicorns," Merlin muttered under her breath, examining a bowl full of what should've been water but was instead sand.
"You're supposed to be resting," Gaius reproached her. "Not worrying about the kingdom's problems."
She couldn't help a twinge of irritation that rose inside her as she looked up to meet Gaius' eyes. They'd been fighting even before she'd been kidnapped and Merlin still wasn't ready to forgive him yet.
"And I'm supposed to get any rest with a famine going on?" she asked archly. Her broth and jug of water rested on the bedside table, unnoticed; Merlin had gone for days without food or water before, this was nothing.
She held her hand over the sand as Gaius painted a paste over her stitched brow, taking a cut of bandage and pressing it over the paste. It was a better way to keep infection out rather than trying to wrap her head completely with a bandage. "Can you change it back to water?"
"No," Merlin said finally, "and even if I could, I wouldn't."
"You wouldn't?" Gaius sat down beside the bed. Merlin's eyes were red from crying and her voice had a more than distinct croak to it.
Merlin could feel the magic, the strength of the curse. Interfering with that kind of magic had consequences. "No. This magic is powerful, I don't have the skill the break it. Finding the sorcerer and convincing him to lift it would work better."
She thought about the man from her first dream, with the threadbare white cloak and the forked staff…there was something strange about him.
"How are you?" Gaius asked her finally.
"Are you asking as my uncle or as the court physician?" she replied.
"It's always going to be a bit of both," Gaius admitted.
Merlin's lips twitched faintly, which was an improvement, Gaius thought.
"I'm nauseous and I only had a few swallows of broth," Merlin admitted. "My whole body aches. I'm not sure if I want to go back to sleep or stay awake or run away from Camelot." It all came out in a flood.
Gaius paused in surprise. "Do you want to run away from Camelot?"
Merlin didn't answer him, standing up and stumbling slightly towards the window. In the town square she could see them beginning to give out rations of food. "Have you heard of…Elmet before?"
"The Perilous Lands?" Gaius asked in surprise. "I wasn't sure you'd heard that name before."
"I dream about it," Merlin sighed forlornly, "I did that a lot in Cenred's dungeon tower, it was probably the only thing that kept me sane. How it used to be before the Fisher King fell ill…how it will be again."
"That sounds a bit like a premonition," Gaius considered, watching her carefully. This was the most open that Merlin had been with him in quite some time.
"Maybe," Merlin admitted, "but I've been there before, I know how it feels to stand in Elmet, to feel the magic there…" Merlin shook her head suddenly, a smile faint on her lips. "Even barren it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She looked to Gaius finally. "I want to make things grow again, I want to bring things to life again. All I've done since I came here is take life away…it goes against my nature."
She never spoke the word that the Fisher King had said to her because the idea that an ancient and powerful sorcerer would look at her and call her 'princess' was just short of ludicrous.
Was she even qualified to be such? Merlin didn't think so. The only two things she'd ever wanted to be were a healer and a High Priestess. Merlin wasn't quite skilled enough to call herself that yet.
She turned back, blinking in surprise to see Percival standing at the door and a smile warmed briefly across her face. "I feel bad," she said, "you come all this way and we've got a famine."
Gaius twisted to see Percival, surprised at his appearance; he didn't seem like the sort of person Merlin would be speaking with.
"I've got my own food and drink," Percival shrugged, "I'll be fine."
Merlin's lips curved. He'd only gone out to get a room at the Rising Sun Inn, and he hadn't even been gone that long. "This is my uncle, Gaius," she offered helpfully, "Gaius, this is Percival…the man I'm in love with."
Percival's smile widened and Merlin ignored the heat rising in her cheeks. She'd never admitted that to his face.
"Ah, your mysterious messenger," Gaius realized, though the realization did nothing to alleviate his surprise; he had never expected it to be a lover.
"Hello," Percival said kindly, if a bit reservedly. He was a man of few words, even if he hadn't known that Merlin and Gaius had been arguing before her kidnapping.
"Hello," Gaius offered before standing slowly, glancing towards Merlin. "I think I have other patients to attend to…I'll check on you later, Merlin."
"All right," Merlin said and Percival shut the door behind him, appraising her with a look. "What's that look for?"
But Percival was, as always, a man of few words, and he strode a few steps forward in order to pull her flush against him, careful of any wounds her body could bear, cradling her cheeks in his hands before bending down to seal his lips against hers.
Merlin's lips parted in surprise, but she wound her arms gingerly around his back so as not to jar at the splints at her fingers, standing on her tip-toes as his hands slid back to tangle into her loose curls.
She remembered their first kiss, in the Forest of Ascetir before he'd rode off in the direction of Mercia, and this one made it seem positively dull by comparison.
When they parted Merlin felt light-headed. "You never said that before, that you're in love with me," Percival said, eyes soft and a thumb tracing over her cheekbone.
"Oh." Merlin swallowed, flushing with color. And then— "Really? I could've sworn—"
He kissed her again and she melted into it.
"Would you like to hear it again?" she asked, grinning as they parted.
"Everyday, every hour, every moment," he hummed, kissing one cheek and then the other.
"I love you, Percival," Merlin said, releasing the ache that had been burning in her chest for so long and he laughed in delight and kissed her again.
Merlin found it difficult to sleep that night, plagued with dreams and memories of Will…she couldn't accept that he was gone. Will was the one constant thing in her childhood, her mother not included, even Iseldir hadn't been there every day, but Will had. And Will had known of her magic and he'd still been her friend…they'd had an argument before she left and they'd never patched their relationship. Merlin was going to have to get used to living with regrets.
She scrubbed the tears from her eyes, throwing the covers off her and padding silently to the door, creaking it open. She caught sight of a threadbare white robe and a pale staff rounding the end of the hallway. It was the same robe she saw in her dream.
Merlin snuck out of the room, following as quickly as she could manage, but whoever was wearing the robe was quick, and she had to jog to keep up.
Her feet took her to the stairs that led down to the catacombs, the exact opposite direction from the dungeons that Merlin had come to know so well. The cold bit at Merlin's bare feet as she descended but she paid it no heed; she'd long since gotten used to being cold without respite from it.
She planted her feet firmly on the ground in time for Arthur to barrel around the corner, eyes wide like a startled deer. "What're you doing here?" he demanded.
"Couldn't sleep," Merlin said flatly, too tired to be her usual snarky self. "What're you doing here?"
"Did some guy in a white robe pass you?"
"I don't think so?" Merlin phrased it more like a question, uncertain.
"Are you looking for me?" a sudden voice asked and they both whipped their heads around. The figure in the threadbare white robe was standing before them and somehow neither of them had noticed. It belonged to an old man with sharp eyes and a grip on a two-pronged staff. "I am Anhora," he said, "keeper of the unicorns."
"Camelot is under curfew," Arthur snapped, squaring his shoulders. "What is your business here?"
"I have come to deliver a message," Anhora said simply.
"And who is this message for?"
"It is for you, Arthur Pendragon." Those sharp and eerie eyes fixed on the prince who started faintly in surprise.
"Is it you who is responsible for killing our crops, turning our water into sand?" Arthur demanded.
"You alone are responsible for the misfortune that has befallen Camelot," Anhora refuted calmly as thought it was a point that couldn't be argued and given the death of the unicorn, Merlin was inclined to agree.
"Me?" Arthur's eyes blazed with blue fire. "You think I'd bring drought and famine upon my own people?"
"When you killed the unicorn, you unleashed a curse," Anhora almost sighed as he explained. "For this, Camelot will suffer greatly."
Merlin could see Arthur's hand drop to his sword's hilt at his belt. "If you have put a curse on Camelot, you will lift it, or you will pay with your life."
"The curse was not my doing," Anhora countered swiftly.
"Undo the curse or face execution," Arthur stepped forward slowly, speaking darkly; the threat couldn't have been clearer.
"Only you can do that, and you will be tested…and I am sorry Your Highness to put you through this as well."
"You think apologizing to me is going to change—" Arthur snapped but Anhora held up a hand to stall the flow of his words.
"I wasn't speaking to you," he said, his eyes shifting past Arthur to where Merlin stood, startled. Arthur looked to her in honest befuddlement and she had no answers for him as Anhora vanished and reappeared further up the stairs.
"Until you have proven yourself, and made amends for killing the unicorn, the curse will not be lifted," Anhora warned. "If you fail any of these tests, Camelot will be damned for all eternity."
And then he was gone and Merlin was left feeling like there was a lead stone in her stomach. She needed to get away, she needed to leave. Merlin could feel her heart racing in her chest and her breaths coming in short.
"Hey, Merlin, wait!"
But Merlin was already up the stairs, taking them two at a time so that by the time Arthur actually caught up with her, she was bracing one hand against the wall, trying to regulate her breathing.
"Merlin…" she could hear the caution in his voice. "Merlin, are you all right?"
Merlin held up a finger as well as she was able to before slipping down to the side of the wall to rest against the floor, one hand to her chest, over her heart, where she could feel it racing. She put her head between her knees and after a few moments, that helped.
When Merlin didn't feel quite like she was drowning, she leaned back and breathed out sharply.
Arthur had never looked so concerned. "Better?" he asked carefully.
Merlin nodded her head slightly, bracing her elbows on her knees and pressing her hands against her face. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were before her kidnapping…was that too much to ask?
Her shoulders shook and she bit her lip when it trembled. She couldn't tell up from down and she didn't even know what had set her off, just that she had felt her panic rising to unmanageable heights.
"I'm tired," Merlin sighed finally, her throat feeling like it had been rubbed raw. "I'm tired of being scared."
Arthur's jaw tightened. Merlin was never afraid to let him know when she was scared, she'd always been rather up-front about her fears. "I'm sorry," he said and he meant it, if there was anyone that deserved a break, it was Merlin.
She waved him off and leaned, closing her eyes.
"Do you know why he called you princess?" Arthur couldn't resist asking.
Merlin thought about her dream, of the Fisher King calling her the same. "No," she said finally, "something to ask Iseldir about next time I see him, though."
Arthur's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, only to be distracted by the sound of footsteps and the sight of a flickering torch going around the corner heading in the direction of the grain stores. He muttered a curse under his breath before making sure she could get back to her room on her own and taking off, leaving her behind in a bit of bemusement.
The next day there was water, which was a good sign; clearly it meant that whatever was plaguing the land had begun to ease just a bit.
Leon knocked politely and opened the door in time to see Merlin, where she was resting in bed, part her lips from a rather impressive-looking man.
"Apologies," he said quickly, feeling heat at his ears. "Maybe I should—"
"Don't be ridiculous, Leon." Merlin rolled her eyes, giving a slight wave of her hand in order to coax him forward. "This is Leon, he's one of the knights that I'm friends with," she explained to man, who Leon could now see was gently cupping her other hand. "Leon, this is Percival."
Leon inclined his head and Percival nodded silently, much to Merlin's exasperation.
"These are for you," Leon said, realizing he still had a bouquet in his hands. "The lads and I thought we should get you a bouquet, a sort of get well and welcome back gift."
"Oh!" Merlin took the flowers in surprise. "You lot didn't have to."
"We know." Leon waved her off and Percival's lips twitched before he bent forward to press a kiss to her brow.
"I'll check back on you later," he said as he stood.
"All right," Merlin said, watching him go with a wistful expression that Leon had never seen before.
"So…he's…large," Leon offered conversationally, dropping into Percival's vacated seat, and that was very true. When Percival stood, Leon felt dwarfed in comparison.
Merlin snorted with half of a wince, her ribs still aching. "I suppose he is."
Leon waited for her to elaborate on their relationship -though it seemed fairly obvious, given how they were kissing- but she never did, inspecting the bouquet with interest. His eyes drifted to the splints her fingers were in, then to the bandage at her brow. "Merlin, are you sure you're all right?"
"All right?" Merlin's lips twisted into something Leon didn't recognize. "I think that might be pushing it…but I'm alive."
"If you need anything, all you need to do is ask," Leon assured her and she gave him the faintest smile.
"That's kind of you, but I'll manage." Her eyes were distant, looking out the window but not focused on what lay beyond, like her thoughts were miles away.
Leon thought about asking her what was on her mind, but it seemed to private a thing to ask. And in the time it took him to pause, she tilted her head and the light caught her eyes in a way that made them seem to blaze with golden fire.
And Leon couldn't help but think that the gold suited her more than the blue ever could.
"Arthur Pendragon has failed his second task."
Merlin jolted wildly at that, mere seconds after Morgana had shut the door behind her, glad to see Merlin well, or, as Merlin said, 'Well enough', almost tripping over a rug at the sight of Anhora in the light, which wasn't much of a change. He surveyed her calmly as though that was the expected outcome. "He has shown that he would kill a man to defend his pride, and for that, Camelot will pay dearly."
Merlin knew many sorcerers and no two sorcerers were alike, but, unfortunately for her, Merlin didn't know this one or how he thought, that made her incredibly cautious.
She was back to wearing her ill-fitting shirt and trousers, a sash at her waist. Merlin could feel the weight of the thin dagger she had hidden within the sash like she could feel the throbbing in her broken fingers, in her bruises and cuts.
"You sell him too short," she opted to say instead, tension running through her whole body, preparing for a fight. Merlin ached to be silent, a learned habit in the past month that she knew would be hard to break. "I'm not saying that Arthur's not prideful, he is, and it's a hard a hard habit to break when you're spoiled from birth, but he has improved…and if there's one thing he cares about more than anything else, it's Camelot."
"I cannot simply let this slide," Anhora said calmly, "the curse will not be lifted."
Merlin nearly sighed but restrained herself. "That's not what I mean. Just give him one more chance, one more test. If he fails that, I won't complain."
Anhora considered her. "Diplomacy suits you, Your Highness," he said finally, making Merlin frown; she still had no idea what to make of this 'Your Highness' business. "One last test. Arthur must go to the Labyrinth of Gedref. If he fails the test, there is no hope. The curse will destroy Camelot."
And then he was gone.
Apparently, the sorcerer had come to Merlin in her room to pass along the message of the final test. Arthur wasn't sure what that meant, if somehow she was considered to be more agreeable or if it had to do with how reverently he had spoken to her that night in cellars. Either way, Arthur didn't like it. And he liked going to Gedref even less.
The Labyrinth of Gedref had an ancient history, one that was intertangled with magic. Arthur detested the idea of entering the labyrinth, but to save Camelot, he would do anything.
The high-reaching hedges seemed to almost sway in the wind, but there was no wind that day. The whole place was as eerie as could be as Arthur entered the maze, his armor clanking against his chain mail as he rounded so many bends. The hedges curved and twisted, it was an easy place to get lost in.
Arthur must've wandered around for hours upon hours, until the heat of the sun bore down on him, making him sweat through his armor and if Merlin had been there, she would've laughed. She was the one always telling him that it was ridiculous to go hunting wearing armor, how on earth were you supposed to catch any animals when every step sounded like clanging metal? But, thankfully, she wasn't there.
Or so Arthur thought.
He could see the end and couldn't help the relieved, until he actually made it past the hedge's edge, to see the edge of the Seas of Meredor. And beside the sea was Anhora and a table with two goblets and two seats, one of which was filled with a rather petulant Merlin.
He looked to her and Merlin shrugged her shoulders, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
"Release her," Arthur said, turning to Anhora. "I'll take your test, but not till she's released."
"That is not possible," Anhora told him calmly. "Merlin is part of the test." Merlin didn't appear pleased about it. "Please sit." Arthur remained standing. "If you refuse the test, you will have failed and Camelot will be destroyed."
Arthur sat, casting a wary look towards Merlin as he laid down his sword. "You all right?"
"Well enough," Merlin grumbled not for the first time.
"There are two goblets before you," Anhora told them both. "One of the goblets contains a deadly poison, the other goblet, a harmless liquid. All the liquid from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from a single goblet."
Arthur couldn't help but scoff. "And what is that supposed to prove?"
"Arthur!" Merlin warned. His pride was the result of this issue in the first place and Arthur held his tongue.
"What it proves is for you to decide," Anhora said simply, vaguely, and, most definitely, unhelpfully. "If you pass the test, the curse will be lifted."
Thinking things through wasn't exactly Arthur's strong suit. Merlin was the careful and cautious one…time to think like his maid-servant. Two goblets, one poisoned, one not. They could only drink from one cup and both liquids appeared to be identical.
Arthur could remember Merlin's certainty when she'd barreled into the throne room and drank his poisoned goblet in his stead. She hadn't wavered then and she wasn't wavering now. She just looked tired.
But Camelot was his duty and if he died, so be it, so Arthur did something both reckless and foolish; he dumped the liquid from both cups into a single one and downed it all before she could stop him, and the last thing he saw was the worry and startlement splashed across her face as he fell back to the ground.
"Arthur!" Merlin scrambled around the table as cumbersomely as she could manage, dropping to her knees at Arthur's side, fingers fluttering to his neck, feeling for his pulse.
She felt intently for a few moments and then sighed. Arthur's heartbeat was steady. And then she glared at Anhora. "Let me guess…sleeping draught?"
Anhora's lips twitched and then his eyes glowed gold briefly. Merlin felt a tingling sensation under her skin, in the bones of her fingers, before her splints broke apart. Her broken fingers had been healed. "A unicorn is pure of heart. If you kill one, you must make amends by proving that you also are pure of heart. Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours. He has proven what is truly in his heart. The curse will be lifted."
Merlin stood swiftly. "I still have questions, like why you keep calling me 'Princess'."
Anhora smiled a bit more fully then. "Yes, that is a curious thing, isn't it? A curious title for a curious warlock…perhaps I will give you a hint?"
Merlin didn't like the sound of that. She wanted answers not cryptic hints! She got enough of those with Kilgharrah.
"There are many paths, many destinies you could have. Choosing to guide Arthur in the hopes of returning magic and justice to the land of Camelot is a thankless one, but one that is necessary…though I think you're beginning to understand that your future doesn't lie within Camelot's Citadel…your heart belongs somewhere else entirely."
Merlin was so startled that he managed to disappear without her even noticing and she cursed under her breath.
It seemed she would have to live with not knowing for a little while longer.
AN: We're somewhat following the major events of BBC Merlin, to a point, but you'll be seeing more of Merlin and the druids and the potential Elmet possesses :)
As always: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!
