Another's Favor by ebhg
Rating: T
Pairings: Merthian/Arwen
Spoilers: Series 1-4 and up to episode 4 of Series 5.
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC.
A/N: Many thanks to those who reviewed! You'll see a couple bits plucked and tweaked from The Disir. While I hated that Merlin denied magic's place in Camelot, I loved a few of the moments in that episode. :)
A Quest
Merlin rushed through the corridors, looking for Mithian. He'd already told Leon and Gwaine that they were leaving at dawn; they both assured Merlin that they would pass on the message to Elyan and Percival.
Rounding the last corner before their chambers, Merlin finally spotted her. Reveling in the way his heart quickened at the sight of his wife, the warlock pushed aside his fears that his departure on the morrow would leave her anxious. It couldn't be helped, not with Arthur hell-bent on going after Mordred, and as Merlin had told his king, Mithian would understand.
"Mithian!" he called, taking pleasure in the smile that immediately lit up her face. However, his delight was squashed when his obvious disquiet made her smile dip into a frown.
"Merlin, what is it?" Mithian asked. Merlin nodded towards their chambers and ushered her in to ensure their privacy. Before he could stop himself, Merlin pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately, his heart already hurting at the thought of leaving her so soon. Mithian willingly allowed the kiss, returning it with equal fervor, though she could sense Merlin's urgency in it. Pulling herself away from his searching lips, Mithian stepped back.
"As pleased as I am at such a greeting, whatever is the matter?"
Merlin's face crumpled into a frown and he gripped a handful of his hair in each hand, exhaling as he paced back and forth to calm down and order his thoughts.
"We've learned what happened to the missing patrol. Morgana attacked them, killing them all but Sir Caridoc and Sir Mordred. Caridoc is with Gaius, but she took Mordred to the Dark Tower and Arthur is determined to rescue him."
"But it must surely be a trap," Mithian said worriedly.
"That's what I tried to tell Arthur, but he's determined to go."
"Which means that you must follow," Mithian said knowingly. Merlin nodded wordlessly and Mithian flung her arms around her husband, crushing him to her and claiming his lips once more, allowing their passion to overtake them.
"When do you leave?" Mithian asked some time later. The setting sun filtered hazily through their half-drawn curtains.
"At dawn."
"Then we have tonight," Mithian said, her eyes glistening as she visibly strengthened. Merlin smiled at her firm resolve.
"Yes, we do. Though I do need to leave the city as soon as the sun is fully set in order to call for Kilgharrah," Merlin explained.
"Take me with you," Mithian immediately demanded. Merlin looked at her for a moment then nodded.
"Dress in something inconspicuous and grab a cloak," Merlin answered, moving to find his own appropriate clothing. "Hopefully he won't scold me for too long before he lets me talk."
"It's rather exhilarating being out here, skulking around in the dark," Mithian said impishly as she and Merlin wove their way through the forest just after dusk.
"I've stopped noticing," Merlin laughed. "I suppose I skulk around in the dark too much."
Mithian snorted indecorously and clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound.
"We're almost there," Merlin assured her.
"Do you suppose he'll actually scold you?" Mithian wondered aloud, smiling at her husband's resultant grimace.
"It wouldn't be the first time," Merlin answered ruefully. Then the two of them broke through the trees into the wide circular clearing, the white citadel barely visible over the treetops.
"Here goes," Merlin said, then without hesitation, threw back his head and called for his kin. Mithian was stunned silent for a few moments after Merlin finished.
"Is it unusual that I found that rather attractive?" Mithian asked in an awed daze, causing Merlin's face to redden.
"I've never done it in front of a woman, so I couldn't tell you," Merlin chuckled.
"I suppose that's a good thing, then. All of Camelot's maidservants would be utterly besotted," Mithian teased, though Merlin shook his head.
"I think it's just you," Merlin replied.
"Oh, I have it on good authority that there's a certain member of the kitchen serving staff that has rather taken a shine to you. If she saw what I just saw, I might have had to take her aside and explain a few things."
Merlin's mouth dropped open. "I can't believe that Gwen told you about Elfa."
"Merlin, love, she didn't have to. She was serving wine at our wedding feast. One would have to be blind to miss the way Elfa lusted after you."
"I'd best be blind then," Merlin answered. "I can't believe you remember who was serving wine that night."
"You don't?" Mithian asked with a smirk.
"No, not at all. I think there was something I remember from that night. If I recall correctly, it was pretty incredible. Perhaps you could help freshen my memory?"
Mithian smiled at the warlock, pleased to see his eyes sparkling in the sparse moonlight. Merlin leaned in and Mithian gladly rose up to meet him as their lips joined in a tender kiss. Distracted as they were, neither of them noticed the dragon gliding silently over the trees until he landed heavily in the clearing.
"I'm guessing you have something to tell me, young warlock."
Merlin broke away from Mithian and smiled sheepishly at the dragon. Mithian's eyes were wide and her mouth gaped open at the sheer immensity of the beast before her. She had heard tales of the dragons as a child as well as the story of the Once and Future King. But that handful of bedtime stories could never have prepared her to meet such a magnificent creature.
"Kilgharrah, brother, this is Mithian, Princess of Nemeth."
"That is not all she is," Kilgharrah said, raising a draconic eyebrow in Merlin's direction. "She is your mate."
"Don't be crude, Kilgharrah. She is my wife!" Merlin argued.
"Husband and wife are words that mean nothing to a dragon, young warlock. We have mates, for that is what they are to us. We do not feel as humans do."
"So I've noticed," Merlin responded dryly.
"What is it you called me for, Merlin?" Kilgharrah asked, his tone doing little to hide his impatience.
"That's it? That is all you are going to say?! You're not going to give me a lecture on distractions and destiny and how I'm ignoring it or some such?"
"Have you forsaken Arthur or your role in Albion?"
"No."
"Then have you made an alliance with the witch?"
"You know I would never!"
"Peace young warlock," Kilgharrah rumbled.
"I will serve Arthur and Albion till I can no longer draw breath."
"Then why did you suppose that I would lecture you, as you say?"
"I've been preparing myself for your disapproval," Merlin said, his brow furrowing in frustration.
"Why should I disapprove, when a dragonlord will one day be born from her womb?" Kilgharrah asked, turning to look at Mithian again. The princess stood taller under Kilgharrah's scrutiny and refused to be cowed by the dragon's critical gaze. She wasn't prepared for the deep chuckle that erupted from the dragon.
"You have spirit, Mithian of Nemeth. You will need it."
"What does that mean?" Merlin asked. "What have you seen?"
"I know that the witch has the druid boy at the Dark Tower, and even now tightens her control over him."
"But what exactly is the Dark Tower?"
"It is said that it is a place of doom; a place where none who tread shall return. Others believe it is a figment of the mind, some say it is a curse upon the land in which it stands. You must tread cautiously, young warlock. The witch seeks Emrys now more than ever."
Kilgharrah didn't say another word, but opened his wings and leapt into the air.
"That was... Unusual," Mithian murmured after a minute.
"That is Kilgharrah for you; frequently cryptic yet frighteningly blunt and somewhat annoying. At least he didn't scold me," Merlin said, then he looked to Mithian with a grin. "I think he likes you."
"He likes my womb, you mean."
Merlin laughed, taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the city.
"Let's go home. Dawn will come all too quickly."
Merlin found himself wide awake an hour or two before sunrise. Mithian's arm lay across his waist, holding him to her as she pressed herself into his side. The warlock wasn't eager to move. Moving meant getting out of bed and leaving his wife behind as he followed Arthur on a fool's quest to rescue the man destined to kill the king.
A heavy feeling of dread sat in Merlin's gut as he turned to take in Mithian's face. Her brows were furrowed and a slight frown puckered her lips, as though Merlin's dread was a tangible thing, reaching out and touching Mithian, even in her sleep. Merlin closed his eyes and leaned in to press a kiss upon her forehead, his lips lingering there as he took in her scent. As he pulled back, Mithian blinked her eyes open and met Merlin's troubled gaze.
"You're awake early this morning," Mithian whispered, unwilling to break the moment by speaking too loudly.
"I can't sleep any more," Merlin admitted softly.
"You're not tired?"
"No. I cannot get over the feeling that we shouldn't be going after Mordred."
"Because of what the dragon said?" Mithian asked.
"There is that, but I have also seen a vision granted to me by the Lochru. I saw Mordred running Arthur through. The anger and bitterness on Mordred's face contrasted with the utter betrayal and heartbreak on Arthur's has haunted me ever since that day."
"You told me that Gaius has said many times that the future is not set in stone," Mithian said, trying to soothe him.
"I know. But I have glimpsed the future before, in the Crystal of Neahtid and in the Crystal Cave itself. In both instances, the things that I saw came to pass in spite of, or because of, the things I did to try and alter it."
"Perhaps that is why you shouldn't fight Arthur on it now. Maybe rescuing Mordred now will prevent him from becoming the bitter man that the Lochru showed you."
"Maybe," Merlin conceded. Mithian propped herself up on her elbow to look into Merlin's eyes.
"Kilgharrah said to be cautious, yes, but do not let Morgana's hatred infect you. Your kindness and compassion are what I love about you."
Merlin smiled at Mithian, reaching up to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "It's your wisdom and strength that I love about you."
When Mithian leaned over Merlin to kiss him passionately, he did not object, but returned the favor. It was at least an hour before he really needed to get up, anyways.
When Merlin and Mithian entered the courtyard later, Arthur and the knights were in the process of drawing lots. Merlin raised an eyebrow questioningly at his wife, but she merely shrugged and moved to join Gwen on the steps.
"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, causing the five of them to spin around guiltily.
"Drawing lots," Gwaine answered, smiling rakishly.
"Yes, I can see that," Merlin chuckled. "Why?"
"Because you are late," Arthur groused, as though the reason was self-evident.
"By less than ten minutes, what has that got to do with drawing lots?!"
"You see, Merlin, you are a newlywed," Leon explained, raising his eyebrows and looking at Merlin knowingly.
"Yes, I am aware. I do in fact remember getting married just a few days ago, strangely enough."
"No, no you don't get it," Gwaine chuckled. "You are a newlywed."
"Yes. I know. Aren't you all full of answers this morning?" Merlin chuckled sarcastically. "Once again, what has that got to do with drawing lots?"
"Someone had to go knock on your door," Percival volunteered. Merlin raised his eyebrow questioningly.
"You are a newlywed," Elyan repeated, nodding his head encouragingly as the knights turned their heads as one to look at the Queen and Princess conversing together. Merlin followed their gaze to his wife and his eyes widened, suddenly comprehending why they were reluctant to knock on his door.
"You're all incorrigible," Merlin muttered, moving to put his things onto his horse.
"Then you were late for some other reason? Couldn't find your boots, I suppose?" Gwaine asked with false innocence. Merlin said nothing but narrowed his eyes at Gwaine. The knight grinned smugly at the warlock, whose red face gave him away. Leon, Percival and Elyan chortled, though Arthur simply looked at his former manservant with an appraising, yet doubtful look on his face. Merlin raised his chin and willed the pink tinge from his cheeks, looking Arthur in the eyes and raising his eyebrow as though to say, Well? What of it?
"And you have to ask why we're drawing lots," Gwaine chuckled.
"You're like our kid brother, Merlin," Percival said with a grin.
"As much as we tease and grant such excellent advice, there are just some things we don't want to know," Elyan continued, looking between Arthur and Gwen with a grimace. The king merely raised his eyebrow, causing Elyan to smile innocently at his brother-in-law.
"Come on, then. We have another brother who needs our help," Arthur said solemnly, dampening the light mood. Guinevere and Mithian came forward; the Queen tied a small strip of fabric, taken from the hem of her favorite gown, onto Arthur's arm and looked him in the eye.
"Come back to me," she said firmly, then kissed her husband passionately, hugging him tightly for a long moment. Mithian did the same with Merlin, pulling one of the ribbons from her hair and tying it around Merlin's thin wrist.
"Keep safe, you and all," Mithian whispered into Merlin's ear, squeezing his shoulders one last time before granting him a farewell kiss.
Without further delay, the men swung up into their saddles, turning their horses toward the gates.
"Merlin?" Gwen called, causing the warlock to wheel his horse back around.
"Keep him safe. Don't let him do anything rash," Gwen asked, her anxiety clear in her eyes.
"I'm not sure what gives you the impression that he'll listen to a word I say, but I'll do my very best, Gwen," Merlin promised.
"That's all I ask," Gwen said, smiling with false cheer.
"And make sure that you don't do anything rash," Mithian added, looking at Merlin knowingly. She had heard too many of Merlin's stories to believe that he wouldn't throw himself in front of Arthur if they were threatened. Merlin nodded, but smiled sadly, acknowledging Mithian's concerns as valid.
"I will do my best in that as well," Merlin said, smiling more genuinely at her until Arthur's shout broke the silence.
"Merlin! You've had your farewell, now move before I find you a dress to match your girlishness!"
Merlin looked at Mithian and Gwen with a rueful expression and a weary sigh, giving the two women one last nod before hurrying after his King.
They rode hard through the morning, stopping only twice in order to water the horses. Arthur was determined to make it to the village by nightfall. It seemed that they would do just that until they came to a stop at the mouth of a ravine that had been blocked by a rockslide.
"I know of a place just south of here where the river narrows. We can easily cross it there," Gwaine said, pointing to a place on their map.
"You have taken this route before?" Arthur asked.
"It's been a few years, but I have," he answered.
"Then you'll lead the way," Arthur ordered, turning them all towards their new path and letting Gwaine take the lead.
As they drew closer to the river, Merlin began to feel a familiar prickle. He sat up straighter in the saddle, looking all around him as he stretched out with his mind. Just ahead of them, there was a large concentration of magic. The sensation of it sent a rush of warmth through his chest as his magic reacted to the external source. For a moment, the warlock reveled in the feeling, though as he concentrated on it, he became aware of a foreign tinge of darkness. Urging his horse a bit faster, Merlin pulled up beside Arthur at the front of the group.
"There's something ahead of us, Arthur," Merlin said, somewhat uneasily.
"Are you being superstitious again, Merlin? Your little funny feelings?" Arthur asked, tempted to roll his eyes, but in the back of his mind, he knew that his advisor was probably right, as usual. That particular something about Merlin came once more to the forefront of Arthur's thoughts.
"Is it superstition when I always turn out to be right?" Merlin asked. Arthur was mildly irritated that the manservant had voiced the very same thoughts in the king's own mind.
"You jump at every falling leaf and snap of a twig and insist that every last quest will be the end of me. Yet as I said before, I'm still here and I've still got all my important bits," Arthur teased, trying to downplay his own anxiety at Merlin's warning.
"Yes, well, usually every cracking twig is followed soon after by a raging horde of bandits."
"There were only three that last time," Arthur argued. "That's hardly a raging horde. Besides that, they all three got tripped up by the roots underfoot, so it was hardly a difficult task to subdue them."
Merlin rolled his eyes.
"Yes, we were very fortunate to be in an area that was so very... rooty," Merlin said snarkily, scowling at Arthur's unrepentant smirk. The warlock couldn't help but think that in truth, Arthur was fortunate to have had a manservant stupid enough to use forbidden magic in front of him. Merlin was simply fortunate the king was either oblivious to the obvious or firmly in denial. Up ahead, Gwaine stopped in the middle of the trail before Arthur could retort.
"Arthur?" the knight called back, turning in his saddle to look significantly at his king. As one, everyone dismounted their horses and walked forward cautiously, drawing their swords as they moved. Coming to a halt beside Gwaine, they all stared, utterly stunned at the sight in front of them.
There was a mighty oak tree on the bank of the river, its bark heavily torn and charred on one side. Propped against the tree was a fiery-haired woman, her bare feet extended into the water that lapped near the roots of the tree. Instead of clothing, she was covered in leaves, moss and tree bark. She also had wounds on her side that mirrored those on the tree.
"A dryad," Merlin whispered, his tone awestruck. He knew instinctively from the magical aura that surrounded her that the dryad would do them no harm. He looked to his companions, seeing their drawn weapons, and reassured them, "You won't need your swords."
The dryad slowly turned her head, raising fatigued eyes to meet his gaze. After a second of unblinking study, she surprised the warlock by whispering, "Emrys," into his mind. Merlin had never met a dryad before, but when she touched his mind, he once again felt a curiously familiar tingle of magical energy run up and down his spine. Fighting down an instinctual shiver, Merlin reached out with his own senses. It was then that he recognised the power and saw the glimmering of the Vilia that undulated and flowed over the dryad's legs. Their familiar, friendly energy was masking and healing the damage inflicted by the tinge of dark magic that had alarmed him earlier.
"She's been badly injured by dark magic," Merlin said, instinctively moving towards her to help.
"Merlin!" Arthur protested, causing Merlin to turn, a questioning look on his face.
"What?" he asked impatiently.
"What do you mean, what?! What do you think you're doing?"
"She means us no harm," Merlin insisted.
"And you know that from one look? Or is this something from another of Gaius' books?!" Arthur hissed. Merlin pursed his lips.
"Dryads and Vilia are harmless spirits of nature."
"Vilia?! What is a Vilia?" Leon asked in confusion, looking around as though he had missed someone standing on the path.
"The water spirits," Merlin answered, gesturing to the glowing sprites that were healing the dryad. Arthur's expression reached a new level of incredulity. Merlin looked around at the knights and the king, unsure of their reaction to the situation.
"Do not be foolish, Merlin. You cannot know that she or these other creatures mean no harm just by the word of a dusty tome in Gaius collection," Arthur argued, though he had a growing suspicion that Merlin hadn't read these things in a book. The king's instincts told him that there was something else going on here and that it wasn't something new. Merlin's ever-present funny feelings seemed to be all the newly appointed advisor needed in situations such as these.
"She's as harmless as a unicorn," Merlin replied, reminding the king of another time when the gangly young man had shown uncanny wisdom and knowledge of something so blatantly magical in nature. Knowledge that someone born after the purge should not possess.
"Because our experience with the unicorn was so very positive," Arthur tossed back. He was fully aware of the innocence of the unicorn, but he suddenly had an irrepressible urge to provoke the former manservant into giving more away. However, Merlin merely raised his eyebrow at the king and gave him such a stern look that Arthur gave up on the possibility.
"That wasn't the unicorn's doing and you know it," Merlin murmured softly so that only Arthur could hear.
"That still doesn't prove these creatures mean us no harm," Arthur countered, speaking loud enough to include the others.
"No, but it was the Vilia that healed me from the Dorocha's touch," Merlin admitted, much to everyone's surprise. No one had really questioned how the servant had been healed then and Merlin had never volunteered the information. Gwaine furrowed his brow at the thought, but put it down to everyone's relief at the time that Merlin was still alive. But he and Arthur were both now wondering what other gaps there were in that particular tale, not to mention all the other inexplicable victories they had achieved. Arthur was astounded at the sheer number of them that suddenly tallied in his mind, and Merlin had been at the center of them all.
"The Vilia, their magic, is what healed you?" Arthur asked, not sure how an undulating light could do anything of the sort. Merlin nodded though, seemingly unconcerned about the Vilia's lack of substantial bodies.
"They are peaceful and she needs help," Merlin insisted, heading to his horse for his healer's bag without waiting any longer for Arthur's permission.
"How do you know for sure that they won't harm us?" Elyan asked, not a little nervous. His previous experience with magical spirits hadn't exactly been pleasant. Merlin stopped, turning once more to his friends.
"Can none of you feel it?" he asked, his confusion evident.
"Feel what, exactly?" Arthur asked in frustration.
"The peace and tranquility here; there is warmth and acceptance, a protective aura. Can you not feel the energy that is saturating the very air? It is though every little thing here is alive and a part of a much larger whole. Everything living and striving for a common purpose, yet still existing in their own unique brilliance..."
Merlin trailed off at the flummoxed look on Arthur's face. Then he looked around to the others; they were all in a state of surprise. Though Gwaine was looking at Merlin shrewdly.
"That was... very insightful," the knight drawled, looking between Merlin, Arthur and the dryad before looking once more at the warlock. Merlin's heart began to beat faster at the dawning recognition in Gwaine's eyes.
"Do what you need to," Arthur allowed, his throat dry and his voice scratchy. Merlin nodded and hurried to grab his bag before moving back to the dryad and her tree. Once again, it seemed that something about Merlin that Arthur had never quite been able to put a finger on was thrust back into his face.
Over the years, the king had dismissed his curiosities and put that indefinable quality of his manservant down to the advisor's innate quirkiness. But what he had just seen could not be ascribed solely to oddities of character; Arthur could only describe Merlin's explanation of the dryad as... otherworldly. Merlin had never spoken quite like that before. Not without some long-winded and far-fetched tale supposedly told to him by Gaius about swords and stones and knowing that Arthur was the true king of Camelot.
It was absolutely clear to Arthur now that what Merlin had just explained did not come from Gaius nor from any book, but rather from within. More than once over the years he had known Merlin, the king had felt as though he were the lesser man, usually when Merlin spouted off something incredibly wise. It was something that had left Arthur feeling incredibly unsettled when Merlin had been rewarded with the position as the prince's manservant. He was ashamed now to realize that it had insulted his sense of self-importance that an ill-mannered peasant could make Arthur feel lesser without really even trying. Arthur's frequent angry outbursts and antagonistic behaviour had been his paltry attempts to return the balance of power in his favor.
It had never worked, though. Looking back on Merlin's long history of impossible survival, unusual knowledge, funny feelings and unbelievable luck, magic seemed more and more likely. Arthur thought that surely he would have known or at least suspected, if his closest friend of nearly a decade was a sorcerer. Yet a small voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Merlin whispered, Haven't you always suspected at least something?
From the first day they had met, that certain something about Merlin had always seemed to sit in the back of his mind, though it had been coming to the forefront rather frequently of late. Was it possible that Merlin had magic? It would certainly explain some of the quirky man's idiosyncrasies and convoluted stories.
Could he accept that? The king's attitude on magic had changed so much over the years. Arthur could recall a time when he thought that perhaps magic wasn't all bad. He had argued with Uther on that very subject more than once, and had even turned to sorcery to try and heal his father. Gaius had told him about how the old sorcerer had tried to heal Uther, but couldn't have done anything. Did that failure necessarily make magic bad? Was Gaius a bad person when one of his patients died? Arthur nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. So why had he thought that of the old sorcerer?
It was only after Uther's death that he'd hardened his stance on magic and truly followed his father's footsteps in regards to sorcery. But had he? The Horn of Cathbhadh had been powerful magic and Arthur had willingly used it for his own purposes. One could argue that the horn's magic had been quite troublesome in the end, though yet another argument could be made that it was Arthur's own inexperience and ignorance with magic that had made the ordeal so very troublesome.
It was time, Arthur knew, for him to decide where he was going to stand on the matter, one way or the other. He could not continue to waver where magic was involved, for his own sake as well as the kingdom's. How exactly was it that he wanted to rule Camelot? His father had been utterly obsessed with cleansing magic from the land, though Arthur couldn't in good conscience take such a hard stance on those with magic. His father would have balked at allowing peace with the druids, but hadn't Arthur just recently told the specter of his father that it was now Arthur's time? Arthur's turn to rule Camelot the way he saw fit?
He had blown the horn with the full knowledge that it would send his father back to the spirit realm, solidifying his decision then and there to rule the way he saw fit, entirely free from his father's shadow. Arthur closed his eyes as he remembered the last experience he'd had with his father. Uther's specter had tried to kill Guinevere, and Merlin as well, for that matter.
That thought made Arthur pause. His father had voiced his displeasure with Arthur's choice of wife, hence the attempt on her life. Uther had mentioned the Round Table with distaste, but at no time did his father voice his displeasure with Arthur's association with the then-manservant, until Arthur was just about to blow the horn; then his father's spirit had tried to tell him something.
"Merlin has-"
Arthur had pushed it aside as soon as the ghost had disappeared. But now those words rang through the king's head. Had Uther been about to confirm what Arthur was now almost sure of? There was little else besides magic that made any sense. Arthur mulled over the question and its likely answer as he stepped forward cautiously, the knights quickly following.
The king stopped a short distance from where his advisor was crouched over the dryad; near enough to see more clearly what Merlin was doing, but not close enough to hear his murmured conversation with the magical woman. Arthur was almost overwhelmingly curious to know what they were speaking about, but something held him back. Perhaps it was reluctance to confirm what the king suspected, or perhaps some previously unknown respect for what amounted to the former manservant's greatest secret.
At one point, Merlin put his hand on the woman's shoulder and the tree spirit... woman... creature... whatever she was, seemed to suddenly sit a little taller, her face less pained. Merlin's back was turned to them, thus Arthur couldn't see if there had been any glint of gold within Merlin's eyes. Though he found himself disappointed, Arthur wasn't sure yet if he hoped to see proof that his suspicions were true or not. The urge to bury his thoughts and questions flared in the king's mind. He had done so many times over the years, and this time was no different. Simply Merlin being his strange self. But Arthur shook his head immediately at the thought. He could not overlook what was staring him in the face any longer.
Merlin could feel their eyes on him as he pulled some supplies out of his bag. He knew that he'd have to be cautious; anything overly visible would certainly give more away than his over-exuberant explanation had. Inwardly he cursed himself for becoming lost in the sensations that he felt all around him in the presence of the nature spirits. He had said and implied a lot more than he had intended. Certainly more than he ever had on such an obviously magical topic.
"Emrys," the dryad whispered aloud, causing Merlin to pause his anxiously busy hands and look up into her eyes. "Thank you," echoed through his mind, the dryad's voice weak, but grateful.
"I'm Merlin," he said aloud in way of answer, nodding subtly at her to show he'd heard her. "What do you call yourself?"
"I am Lowri," she whispered, grimacing in pain.
"How did this happen?" Merlin asked worriedly, hoping that his suspicions were off target.
"Morgana... She's leading a group of rogues. They were damaging the forest to catch the attention of a patrol."
Merlin nodded, rifling absentmindedly through his supplies.
"How can I help you, Lowri?" he murmured at last, at a loss as to how to treat a dryad.
"I can heal myself, but it takes a great deal of time, just as with the trees. Those oils you have in your hand would help, but if you could spare me some energy, as the Vilia are doing, I could heal faster."
Merlin nodded again, understanding. He doused a linen bandage in the plant oils and pressed it over the deepest of her wounds. Then Merlin put a hand on her shoulder and concentrated, gifting the tree spirit with a burst of magic, similar to how he had with Mithian not long ago. Yet Merlin could not help but wonder at how different the two experiences were. He had felt somewhat connected to Mithian after giving energy to her, but Merlin felt no such connection with the dryad, though the tree spirit nearly gasped at the sudden jolt of energy. The warlock grinned at the dryad's grateful smile, and mentally tucked the differences between the two experiences away to think more on later.
"The rumors of your greatness have not been exaggerated."
Merlin scoffed at the thought, not looking up from his task.
"Neither have the rumors of your modesty. You must be careful, Emrys. Morgana has the young man at the Dark Tower. If he survives, he will not be the same."
"What do you mean?" Merlin addressed her mentally, not wanting to be overheard. "What is it that Morgana is doing to Mordred? Why did she take him to the Tower?"
"She's been hunting for Mandrakes in the last few weeks. I fear that she has put Mordred under The Teine Diaga."
Merlin narrowed his eyes, unfamiliar with what the Teine Diaga was.
"I am sorry. I forget how very young you still are," the dryad explained, seeing his confusion. "It is an ancient and twisted ritual fashioned by the darkest of the High Priestesses. Only the most powerful of healing waters can hope to break it."
"Are you finished, Merlin?" Arthur called. "We need to push onwards if we're to reach the village by nightfall."
"Yes," Merlin said, smiling one last time at Lowri, who was now healing rapidly. Her grateful nod was the last she communicated; then she sank down right into her tree as though it were the same consistency as honey.
"That was entirely bizarre," Gwaine said, shaking his head as he came to stand behind the still crouching Merlin. "And here I'd thought I'd seen just about everything."
Merlin stiffened at the knight's words, hastily standing and turning to meet Gwaine's amused and knowing eyes, realizing that the knight had meant far more than seeing the dryad. Merlin smiled weakly, unsure of what to think. He knew that Gwaine would give him the benefit of the doubt, but Merlin had seen how angry Gwaine had been at Dragoon. Though Gwaine hadn't seemed overly hostile with Grettir, at least he hadn't until the little man had turned Gwaine's sword into a bunch of flowers. How accepting or disapproving of magic Gwaine was, Merlin wasn't entirely sure.
"Let's move out," Arthur ordered, watching as Merlin moved quietly back to his horse. To Arthur, it seemed that Merlin was thinking deeply about something, though he couldn't fathom what was on the dark-haired man's mind. Arthur himself was contemplating perhaps the most significant change in his kingship, more even than knighting commoners and marrying the daughter of a blacksmith. Turning away before his advisor noticed the king's scrutiny, Arthur vowed to pay a little closer attention to Merlin in the future.
Merlin was entirely grateful when the little village came into view just as the sun dipped below the western horizon. It had been a long afternoon of riding. He had gradually moved from the front to the back of the group over the course of their journey. The warlock had felt everyone's eyes on him at some point or another. Arthur's and Gwaine's most of all. It had been a bit unsettling to Merlin, who was used to being chronically overlooked.
When the smoke from the village fires could be seen, two young boys came to meet them on the road. They scampered ahead of them, eager to share the news that the king himself was come with his best knights. The leaders of the village gathered in the town center to greet their sovereign. Merlin was pleased to see how affable and unassuming Arthur was as he greeted them and thanked them for their hospitality. It never ceased to amaze the warlock how much Arthur had changed since their first meeting.
"Thank you for hosting our party for the night," Arthur said, clasping forearms with the village elders.
"It is our honor, My Lord," a greying man answered. "We would love to have you feast with us on our best offerings."
Despite Arthur's protests, a humble feast was prepared for supper. A freshly hunted deer was roasted over red hot coals, and Merlin even helped supplement the meal with some root tubers he'd foraged earlier. Arthur sat by the fire, watching with a touch of envy at how readily Merlin interacted with either peasant farmers, nobles or royalty.
Arthur knew of no other peasant who could rise above his fatherless state, fight alongside and advise a king, marry a princess and comfortably interact with and assist a dryad. Merlin was an enigma; Arthur had known that for a very long time. Though ever since Rodor had made his offer to Merlin, it seemed like Merlin's uncommon nature was more obvious now, like Arthur's eyes had been opened, a veil removed.
"What has you so sour-faced?"
Arthur turned to his most irreverent knight and raised an eyebrow.
"You look like you've sat in a briar patch," Gwaine chuckled.
"Does Merlin seem different to you?"
"You mean because he's got himself a wife now?"
Arthur thought for a second, wondering if that might be the reason for his sudden shift in perception.
"No, I don't think that's it," Arthur mused, and the jovial expression on Gwaine's face mellowed.
"I think this is something best asked of Merlin," Gwaine said solemnly.
"You see it, though, don't you?" Arthur asked.
"See what?" Gwaine drawled innocently. "All I see is a conversation that doesn't involve me."
Arthur sighed, looking at his advisor once more. Merlin was speaking to a bright-eyed group of children, who seemed utterly entranced by what he was saying. After a moment, a chorus of nods and several pleas had Merlin looking around him thoughtfully. His eyes lit upon a basket of small apples and Merlin instantly broke out in a grin. Grabbing four of the fruits, Merlin showed them all to the children, then began tossing them in the air. Within seconds, Merlin was juggling all four apples and Arthur was nearly as surprised the second time as he was the first.
"See, now how does he do that?!" Arthur asked Gwaine exasperatedly. "He can't catch anything, do you know how many things I've thrown at him over the years?!"
Gwaine just raised an eyebrow at Arthur's admission.
"It was never very hard," Arthur said petulantly. Gwaine laughed so hard that Merlin dropped two of the apples when he looked towards them to find out why. Arthur just pointed to Gwaine and shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head and motioning that Gwaine was perhaps mentally unsound. Merlin looked between the two of them dubiously and Gwaine just laughed harder. Arthur rolled his eyes at the spectacle that Gwaine was creating.
A moment later, Merlin joined the two of them at the fire, having handed his juggling apples off to the exuberant children.
"What was it that had you in such a state?" the warlock asked, smiling at the still grinning knight.
"Arthur was just pondering some deep questions," Gwaine explained, though he soon stood. "If you'll excuse me, I believe that pretty lass over there needs a bit of help with that."
Merlin chuckled as he watched Gwaine move to take a water bucket from a young woman, remembering how he and Mithian had argued playfully over two buckets of water.
"He has no shame," Arthur said, pulling Merlin's attention back. Merlin nodded in agreement and moved to take Gwaine's space on the log beside the fire.
"So, what was he laughing about?" Merlin asked, looking at Arthur with a knowing grin.
"Nothing," Arthur denied innocently.
"Ahh," Merlin chuckled. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.
"Have you always been able to sense things like you did with that dryad today?" Arthur asked as nonchalantly as possible. He had come to the decision to try and pull some answers from Merlin; over the course of the day, his suspicions had solidified. He was certain that the former manservant possessed magic of some sort. It had been all he could think about throughout the afternoon, and he intended to get some kind of confirmation from Merlin before the night was through. His advisor just needed to cooperate.
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, trying to play innocent, even though his heart was suddenly in his throat.
"I mean, you felt that dryad and the vilia at least a quarter mile down the trail. All your little funny feelings and superstitions; you've always felt them, as long as I've known you. Has it been that way your whole life? Or is this funny feeling something you've only developed since you knew me?"
Merlin eyed Arthur blankly for a moment, contemplating just how to answer the king's question. Arthur didn't sound angry or upset in any way, but what he was asking about bordered dangerously on the realm of magic, and whether or not Merlin had it. The warlock took a deep, calming breath, never breaking eye contact with his king.
"I suppose so. I've always had very good instincts, at least that's what my mother tells me," Merlin answered finally, managing to just skirt neatly around the confirmation Arthur wanted.
"It's how you knew that Will was a good person, even though he had magic?" Arthur asked, avoiding the question he really wanted to ask. The king found himself oddly reluctant to ask Merlin point-blank if he dabbled in sorcery. Arthur thought back over the numerous close calls and far-fetched tales and nearly rolled his eyes at himself. It was perhaps fair to say Merlin more than dabbled.
It left Arthur feeling rather confused and conflicted; he would have thought that suspecting Merlin of magic would have sent him into a rage. The young monarch had been betrayed by so many who were close to him that he never would have expected how he now felt. Though Arthur wondered if he could really even call it a betrayal. If it was true that Merlin had magic, which was more likely than not, then the manservant would have been stupid to admit to it in Camelot. Hadn't Arthur himself convinced his father that Merlin was a lovesick fool when the idiot had admitted to healing Tom in front of the whole council in order to save Guinevere?
Recalling that particular incident made Arthur want to hit himself in the forehead. Here he was, trying to decide if Merlin had magic when the man himself had admitted it nearly a decade before.
"What do you think of magic, Merlin?" Arthur asked, surprising even himself with the question. "Will was a sorcerer, yet he was your closest friend in Ealdor. Surely you don't think poorly of magic then?" The king raised his eyebrow at the thin man sitting across from him, refusing to look away, as though daring Merlin to concoct some excuse at this juncture.
Merlin's eyes went wider than the king had ever seen them and his mouth dropped open. Distantly, Arthur noted that his First Advisor suddenly resembled a freshly caught fish.
"Me?!" Merlin finally sputtered, a panicked look on his face. "Magic? What I think?"
If it weren't such a serious subject, Arthur might have taken pleasure in Merlin's complete discombobulation. The man sitting before the king didn't resemble the oft clumsy, sometimes eloquent, and frequently wise advisor that he knew Merlin to be.
"Yes. Magic. What are your personal thoughts on the matter?"
"You want my thoughts? On magic? Why?" Merlin asked. Arthur pretended not to notice the touch of panic that colored Merlin's tone.
"Yes, Merlin. You're my First Advisor, that's the idea, you know. I've been thinking about it lately."
"You've been thinking about it lately?!" Merlin asked incredulously. Again, Arthur ignored the growing tension in Merlin's voice.
"Yes, Merlin. I am the king, after all. I have a kingdom to care for and its peoples to consider. What if my father was wrong?"
"Wrong?" Merlin whispered. Arthur nodded, encouraged by the hint of hope in Merlin's expression that suddenly overshadowed the panic.
"He was certainly wrong about the druids. I can see how he had a point with Morgause and I suppose now with Morgana, but what was it that drove them to those extremes? A cornered boar will always charge," Arthur said shrewdly. Merlin nodded, his face sobering further as he listened to his king, his friend. Arthur looked down at his feet and picked up a stick, occupying himself with drawing in the dirt to allow Merlin a modicum of privacy while the thin man composed himself.
"I do not believe that magic is all bad. I believe that it can be a force for good and that it can be a beautiful gift, if it is used for the right purposes," Merlin said hoarsely after a long moment of silence. His eyes glistened with unshed tears and Arthur had to wonder how long Merlin had wanted to say those words to him.
"Who is to decide then what are the right purposes? For surely Morgana believes her purposes to be justified and fully in the right. I would have to disagree with her, but I haven't got magic. Who am I to say what its purpose should be?"
Merlin sat, trying to control the conflicted elation that bubbled within his gut. This was the moment he had waited, fought and sacrificed so much for over the better part of his adult life. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Merlin looked Arthur boldly in the eye, determined to make this moment count.
"You... Are the Once and Future King," Merlin began slowly, unconsciously slipping into what Arthur thought of as Merlin's wise storyteller voice. "Foretold centuries ago to unite all of Albion and restore magic, heralding a golden era of peace and prosperity."
Arthur sat stunned for a full minute, having a hard time accepting that he could or would be worthy of such an important position.
"It seems an impossible goal." Arthur said, his face betraying his feeling of inadequacy. "How am I to accomplish any of that? Besides, being this 'Once and Future King' does nothing to help me make sense of magic."
Merlin seemed to glow as his face broke slowly into a relieved, yet secretive smile.
"That is why it was also foretold that you wouldn't be alone in your destiny. That you would be supported, protected and advised by the warlock Emrys."
Arthur didn't miss the way Merlin emphasized the word advised. He may as well have admitted to being this warlock, this Emrys. Perhaps he just had, Arthur thought. The king watched as Merlin took a deep breath through his nose, as though he was bracing himself for something monumental.
Just as Merlin opened his mouth to confirm or deny what Arthur was thinking, the peaceful revelry of the village was shattered. Screams of terror immediately followed a fiery explosion, the villagers scrambling for their children and rushing to take cover.
Merlin and Arthur jumped to their feet, knowing without a doubt that the village was under the attack of sorcerers, and that it was because the king and his knights were there.
Thanks for reviewing! Anybody else wish Arthur and Merlin's fireside conversation in The Disir had turned out a bit more like this? ;)
