Arthur's tour of the lower town with Gwen was a decent distraction but did little for his mood.
Currently, Arthur stood before a pile of sticks and rubble that was once a family's home—a family that worked in the castle's kitchens, according to Gwen—staring at the embers still burring among the mess in dismay. He was coming to realize that the state of the lower town was far worse than the reports he had received suggested, despite the already dismal picture they had painted.
Twenty men? His father expected him to fix this with only twenty men?
Arthur tried not to let the creeping despondency show on his face. He could feel the eyes of scattered individuals and families on him. Some tried to maintain the pretense that they were somehow near him to work on some urgent chore, but most had given up and were now staring openly.
This was nothing particularly new for the Prince, but the weight of their desperation and the overwhelming certainty that he had no idea how to fix this made the weight of his peoples' gaze heavier than usual.
Eventually, he was interrupted in his brooding, which was probably for the best. His thoughts were spiraling more than he usually preferred to let them.
"Sire, can I ask…"
He turned away from the ruined house towards his guide.
"Anything, Gwen."
"I hope I'm not prying, but I was just wondering… Well—" Gwen took a deep breath, starting her statement over. "What happened between you and Merlin before you dismissed him? I saw him when he returned to Gaius', and he looked… more upset than usual. Not to assume—But, well, that usually means there's something going on between you two."
Arthur did not want to have this conversation, but Gwen would probably find out from Merlin himself anyway. Best not drag out the issue longer than it needed to be one.
"He challenged me. Said I should have challenged my father then and there at the dining table. And… I—I said things about him I shouldn't have."
Arthur looked away. He had never able to bear much of Gwen's disapproving glare, which could cower even the bravest night.
"I apologized. He accepted my apology. I'm not sure I deserve it."
"Merlin's a forgiving sort. I'm sure you'll both work through this."
This was little comfort to Arthur.
"I know. He forgives me a lot. I just hate feeling so powerless, but I know that's no excuse to take it out on Merlin."
For some reason, this seemed to make Gwen more upset. Her jaw physically tightened. Arthur's heart dropped.
"What, what did I say?"
Gwen's face quickly lost any traces of anger, turning into what Merlin called "servant blank."
"Nothing, my lord. I think I'm just tired."
Stopping his pace, Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"No, Gwen, please speak freely. I'm sure it's something I need to hear, even though I'm sure I won't like it."
Apparently, that was all the permission Gwen needed. She turned on him with an anger that she had clearly been holding in for some time.
"It's just—You're the Prince. If you challenge the King, you get scolded. If someone like Merlin or I challenge the King, we're lucky to keep our heads. That's true powerlessness. And as a woman, I'm lucky if a noble even acknowledges me with anything other than a request to clean or to eye me like I'm a piece of meat. It's great that you listen to Merlin and to me—which is far more than most Nobles—but if you won't speak up for us, then what's the point? Who will?"
Arthur frowned. It seemed all the commoners were united against him on this today.
"You can petition the nobility at any time. Even myself and the King, if the issue is large enough. Do you truly feel we ignore you so much?"
Gwen laughed, a desperate sound.
"I don't feel ignored when tax season arrives, certainly. But, besides then, it really depends on the noble in question and what we need help with. Most don't help much. As a maid, especially, I doubt I could get anyone to provide help for the lower town, even for smaller issues like cleaning up the mess in our streets."
She paused and looked away.
"Um… sire."
Gwen looked so incredibly weary in that moment, weighed down by a helplessness she usually didn't let Arthur see.
The Prince felt the full weight of his crown in that moment. Every day, it seemed, he learned of another issue in desperate need of correction and no clear solution. However, he was coming to realize that many centered around the treatment of the common people of Camelot, who seemed to have little power to protect themselves from abuse or crises like the one they faced this week, and seemingly every other week in this magic-infested city.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so harsh. I know your father can be…"
"Harsh, unbending, completely unswayed by reason or empathy once he's chosen a given path?"
Gwen snorted.
"I couldn't possibly speak so ill of the King. But, still. He's your father. It can't be easy to tell him no."
At this, Arthur turned more serious. He turned back to face the street ahead and tried to rub some warmth back into his freezing arms. It was far too cold for so many of his people to be without homes.
"No, it's not."
They continued in heavy silence for a moment. Arthur focused on regulating his breathing until the swirling in his stomach had mostly subsided.
"You're a good advisor, Gwen."
Hearing this, Gwen suddenly tripped over a sizable chuck of stone. Arthur reached out to catch her arm before she fell completely, pleased to see the happy embarrassment crossing her face at his compliment.
As they continued, Gwen pointing out still-burning flame or homes in particular need, giving suggestions for what issues needed to be addressed first. Arthur took mental notes of her advice, agreeing with much of what she suggested and making plans for how to best use the few knights he could still deploy for rebuilding.
They passed a group of children, using what looked like half-burnt pieces of wood to improvise a snowless-snowball fight. Despite the devastation that surrounded them, they laughed and seemed to be genuinely happy. It was a sound Arthur hadn't expected to hear, in the middle of a destroyed street, but it was nice anyway.
Making his way past the crowd, Arthur turned to watch Gwen from the corner of his eye, gathering the courage to ask the question burning in the back of his mind.
"Gwen, do you feel like you can come to me, when you need it?"
Gwen halted in the middle of her next step. Her response was immediate and sure.
"Of course, I do."
She spoke like she thought this was a stupid question.
"You're incredible at supporting your people, sire, truly, and we can tell that you care for our wellbeing. But, when it comes to the nobility of Camelot, that really makes you an exception, more than a rule."
Arthur lightly touched Gwen's shoulders, turning her to face him and waiting until she met his eyes fully.
"That will change when I am King. I give you my word."
Gwen looked shocked at his promise, apparently speechless, which was rare for her. Some part of Arthur felt her surprise at such a promise should have been insulting to his honor, but, truly, it only left him feeling hollow and sad.
"And I promise I'll talk to Merlin, and actually listen to him this time, the next time I see him."
At this, Gwen smiled, which lifted Arthur's spirits some. He had needed a moment like this.
Meanwhile, Merlin's spirits were far more strained.
Immediately following his argument with Arthur, he had stormed back to his chambers, embarrassed when he stopped through the door only to see a shocked jump from Gwen and a judgmental eyebrow from Gaius.
"Merlin! Um… were you—are you crying?"
Gwen set down her pestle, looking concerned. Sometimes, Merlin really hated her ability to notice in him what most of Camelot would ignore.
"No, no. I'm just cold and tired from sprinting back here to get warm. The Prince is ready for you, though."
Merlin began walking forwards, meaning to see what on Gaius' desk he could help with. Gwen eyed him suspiciously the whole way.
"I think you were. And that's your fighting with Arthur face."
Merlin looked up from watching his mentor stir a suspiciously slimy-yet-thick mixture.
"My what?"
Gwen crossed her arms. She pointed a finger at him and indicated a circle around his face.
"That's the face you make when you've been fighting with Arthur. He makes the same one when he's mad at you. I think I'd recognize it—being the one you both go to complain to about each other. What happened between you two?"
Merlin did not know whether to laugh or flee to his room. Was his face really that easy to read? That could be an issue if—
The rest of Gwen's statement hit him.
Arthur had a "fighting with Merlin face?" Did the Prince really talk about him enough that Gwen would recognize what such a look was?
Well, Merlin supposed, he himself did not need much imagination to picture what Arthur looked like when angry with him after this morning. Gwen looked fully prepared to describe Arthur's preferred facial expressions in detail, though, so Merlin decided to cut her off, not wanting to think any more about the Prince's anger.
"Well, if you're right, you probably want to get to him as soon as possible. I don't want to learn what Arthur's 'Angry at Gwen' face looks like, and he's already in a mood."
Gwen rolled her eyes and began tidying up the tools she had been working with, but Merlin stepped in to take over her workspace.
"You're lucky I love you, Merlin, despite being the least persuasive liar I've ever met. One day, I'll have to teach you how to properly deflect a question. You won't survive at court much longer without at least knowing how to spin a convincing lie."
Merlin smiled and forced himself to make eye contact with his friend. He prayed Gwen, with her sudden powers to apparently read his every thought, did not see how nervous the thought of her knowing when Merlin was lying made him.
Eager to end the conversation, Merlin began ushering Gwen towards the door. Taking a closer look at Gwen's face as he did, Merlin was also beginning to suspect Gwen was deflecting the conversation herself, likely nervous about her ability to guide Arthur through the lower town.
"Later. First, you need to go educate the Prince on exactly what he needs to do to save Camelot."
She laughed, and, like he had suspected, her voice had a shrill, nervous quality.
"Oh, alright. I'm off to go save Camelot with no training or proper plan, then. Seems easy. No pressure, there."
Merlin's smile turned more genuine. That was a feeling he could relate to.
"Yes, only that. Now, shoo. I expect you to let us know how it goes! If the prat doesn't take you seriously, I'll make sure to slap some proper sense into him later."
He pushed Gwen out the door properly.
"Fine, fine. I know you will. Thanks, Merlin!"
Merlin smiled and waved Gwen off, only a little jealous to see her grab her many layers of skirts and take off down the stairs with more grace and speed than he could ever manage.
The moment Merlin was sure Gwen could no longer see him, he dropped his smile and felt the tension return to his shoulders. He closed the door turned around to lean against it, unsurprised to see Gaius watching him with an expectant look. Before Merlin could figure out what to say, Gaius smirked and mimicked Gwen's tone.
"'The least persuasive liar I've ever met.' I remember calling you something similar recently. Perhaps you should take Gwen up on her offer of lessons."
Merlin dropped his gaze to his feet. He really needed to do something about his boots, which were not handling the current lack of rubble-free roads well.
"Right. Maybe I will. Make sure I survive at court, like she said."
Merlin had hoped to make the issue into a dark joke. His voice betrayed his nerves, though, so it just made the atmosphere tense as both men were reminded of what was at stake.
"Merlin…"
Merlin continued staring at his shoes. Gaius sighed. The two stood in uncomfortable silence for a long moment.
Merlin wondered if he could avoid dragging Gaius into his current problems with Arthur. It would be the right thing to do. It was not Gaius' job to listen to his problems, certainly, or help him clean up his mess when the physician was already overwhelmed treating the people Merlin had hurt.
At the same time, Merlin knew he was far too naive to deal with this on his own, and he worried what further destruction he could cause if left to his own devices. He really had no one else to turn to.
Merlin glanced briefly as his mentor, hoping to gauge his mood. Gaius looked far too weary to be dealing with this, likely he worried about his ward and struggling to help the lower town while Merlin neglected his duties as an apprentice, like usual. Merlin resolved he would do more to help him with his current work for the lower town. Gaius was already suffering because of Merlin's mistakes. The very least Merlin could do was avoid giving him even more work on top of what he had already saddled Gaius with.
Eventually, Gaius broke their standoff.
"What happened?"
Merlin shrugged, not sure which question swirling through his mind was most important.
"How do you get Uther to stop being a complete prat, when, you know, being his usual self at Council meetings?"
Gaius took a seat and gestured for Merlin to join him across the table.
"Well, normally I would appeal to his sense of reason…"
Merlin laughed, earning a disapproving look from Gaius.
"But on issues of magic, there is little I can do. He does not trust me for much on the issue except maybe treating the occasional magical disease or researching any odd creatures. Why do you ask?"
Merlin leaned forward to rest his head on the table.
"Arthur's being more of a jerk than usual. I was hoping you had a potion for that we could give him."
"A shame I do not, then, but I doubt that is the real issue bothering you."
Merlin glanced up, keeping his head where it was. Gaius looked nothing but patient. Merlin decided to push his luck.
"What's the death count so far?"
At this, Gaius' scowled. "I haven't changed my mind; I won't be telling you that. You aren't well, Merlin, and it's clear the guilt you carry—unnecessarily, might I add—from releasing the dragon is doing you no good. I won't add to it.
"I need to know for my own peace of mind, Gaius."
Merlin sat back up fully but kept his eyes on the table.
"It's all I think about. I keep worrying about it, and I think not knowing is allowing me to picture the worst-case scenario. Will you at least tell me if it's less than a hundred? Please?"
His voice cracked at the end, making Merlin wince.
Gaius, when he replied, sounded somewhat astonished.
"Over a hundred? Is that what you've been picturing? Of course, it's less than that. Far too many, but nothing quite that dire."
Merlin attempted a smile. Knowing Gaius, the number of dead might be ninety-nine, and he would give that exact response if he thought it would make Merlin feel better. Still, knowing the casualties were fewer than he feared was not the relief Merlin had hoped it would be.
After a long moment, Merlin realized why he still felt too anxious.
"How many died in the first Purge? Do you think more will survive this time?"
Merlin regretted the question as soon as he spoke. Gaius never spoke of the Great Purge beyond vague allusions to the fear that had taken over Camelot during those years. Even now, his mentor looked pained to even consider the question, and it hurt to see.
But, to Merlin's surprise, for once, he got an answer.
"A few thousand at least. There weren't any good records kept, so I can't give you a better number than that. I cannot imagine the King could hunt anywhere close to that number of people, this time. There simply aren't enough magic users left. I suspect only a few dozen of us might remain in Camelot."
"Will you tell me what happened? Just the parts I need to try to predict what Uther might do next. Please."
Gaius let out a long sigh.
"Yes, I suppose it's time you learn."
Merlin let out a generic hum of agreement, not wanting to express the tangle of emotions he felt at the chance to finally learn this history. He covered his nerves by getting up to make the two of them tea.
Eventually, he returned with what would better be described as wooden bowls than proper teacups. Everything he and Gaius owned was designed for multiple uses, and most of their cookware was repurposed—and very carefully cleaned—medical equipment of some sort. It made Merlin's job of remembering how to set the noble's tables even more difficult, sometimes, but he did not truly mind. Everything was far nicer quality than he had ever seen in Ealdor.
Gaius thanked him for the tea, not commenting on the fact that Merlin had chosen one of their strongest relaxant brews—the one they gave patients who needed to stay conscious while they performed some of their more painful procedures. Merlin briefly wished he had some mead for this conversation, but neither he nor Gaius ever truly drank, having too many secrets to keep and last-minute patients to treat to ever relax that much.
Gwaine had been trying harder than usual recently to get Merlin to join him for a drink. Merlin had declined every offer so far, not trusting he would be able to pace himself right now. He made up for it by quickly downing his tea instead, before quickly returning to pour himself another cup. Gaius said nothing, but Merlin could feel himself being watched the whole time.
"The Purge didn't happen overnight. It took some serious time and effort to turn the people of Camelot against magic users. Even longer to get to the point where those with magic could be burnt without much fanfare or even a trial or evidence."
This was news to Merlin. He had always sort of pictured Uther waking up one morning after his wife's death and announcing without preamble that all his people were to be burnt.
"Before the pyres were lit, the Purge was merely an idea, barely even a question, really. After all, the King could hardly announce the mass execution of an entire population out of the blue without expecting some sort of backlash from the people. I believe it started with the philosophers and academics who first began to debate the nature and uses of magic after Igraine died. The King began collecting testimony from anyone who had been hurt by magic, and he created a movement among the common people centered around sharing the dangers of magic, some of which were true."
Gaius spoke like he was reading a researcher's summary of some far-off land.
"Eventually, the Royal Family officially aligned itself with the New Religion, and this became the standard practice for the entire citadel. The New Religion became a source of identity, and many people began to fell like it gave them something to belong to, something that made them special, and, certainly, somehow superior to the "backwards" and dangerous beliefs of the Old Religion."
Gaius went to worship services of the New Religion every week, and he had always insisted Merlin join him. Deep down, Merlin had known this was a survival technique for them both, more than an expression of true belief, but he could not imagine a Camelot where such a thing was unnecessary.
"Eventually, a group of nobles, led by the King, organized around the belief in the superiority of the New Religion above the practice of magic. They said they were afraid for the future of Camelot, which they saw as falling into a state of lawlessness. They painted magic users as defiant of natural law, especially regarding the Old Religions' relatively egalitarian treatment of men and women, and as a source of divisiveness, leading sorcerers to become loyal only to themselves and their power, rather than the kingdom. They made it easy for most to view Camelot as falling victim to attacks by powerful, immoral outsiders with magic, even though Magic had been a part of this land longer than Camelot itself."
"Once they were truly organized enough to influence power across the Kingdom, members of this movement began increasing penalties for crimes when committed with magic. The surveilled scholars, temples, and schools of the Old Religion, claiming they needed to ensure we were not planning to betray the kingdom. Eventually, anyone who made a study of the Old Religion came under suspicion, whether they had magic or not. This was when I chose to give up my own magic. Few in the citadel or the lower town would have trusted me to treat them otherwise. I think it is only because I gave up my connections to the Old Religion so early that the King ultimately let me live."
Gaius took a moment to drink his tea, looking like he was struggling. Despite being incredibly eager to hear more, Merlin could not bring himself to push his mentor. To keep himself, occupied, Merlin got up to refill Gaius' tea, hoping it would help.
"Things continued to get worse for some time. Eventually, it felt like the entire kingdom was divided into two societies, magic and not. Magic users were increasingly isolated, which did not help their standing in the Kingdom. Many had already been executed or banished under the new laws for petty crimes.
However, despite that, many in Camelot believed that magic was a bigger threat than ever before. The principles of the New Religion hardly seemed to matter in those years, except to the extent they could be used to show opposition to magic and the Old Religion. That was the most important thing—not being a magic user. The people were so scared, turning on their own neighbors and families.
King Uther was heralded as Camelot's only possible savior from magic. The King's power was nearly absolute, and it was not much farther of a leap for the people to hope he would use it to banish magic from our borders by any means. When magic was finally banned outright, Camelot celebrated for weeks. The witch-hunts started that very night, and the pyres were lit soon after. They burned for months."
This was more detail than Merlin had ever heard. It was generally not safe, nor easy, to discuss the Purge, and he could tell it had cost Gaius seriously to tell him this. However, Merlin did not know what to say to make his guardian feel better.
He found himself unable to speak, in any case, as he took in the sheer scope of the story Gaius had told him. It was one thing to try to undo a single law and make magic legal again. How could he possibly undo the creation of a society which was fundamentally organized around the belief that it was superior to his own people? He was only just now beginning to understand exactly how foolish he had been to ever listen to Kilgarrah.
Stupid. Well, he knew better now.
"I think I need to give up my magic too, Gaius."
His mentor looked pained.
"Are you certain, my boy? Magic for me was largely a hobby, really just a tool to supplement my healing. It was no large sacrifice for me to give it up. But for you? You love it, Merlin, and you are truly doing great things with your powers."
Merlin snorted.
"Great things. Yes, clearly, I am nothing but an asset to Camelot."
Merlin could tell that Gaius about to argue once again that the aftermath of the dragon's attack was not his fault. It was a fight they had had several times in the past few days. Merlin could not stand the thought of going through it again.
"No, I've always been too reckless with my magic, and, even if I could only use it for good, I don't have enough tools or texts to ever learn how to practice it safely."
Unable to sit still any longer, Merlin stood and began pacing.
"I'm tired of hurting people, Gaius, and I'm tired of using my powers to help a kingdom that wants me dead. Not just dead—killed painfully and for sport."
Merlin needed out. He was desperate to end this conversation. He did not want to hear whatever lecture from Gaius was surely brewing.
"No, no more. I won't do it. It would be better for everyone if I had never had magic at all."
Merlin grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.
"Merlin! Where are you going?"
He walked to the door before he could catch Gaius' look, but he paused with his hand on the handle.
"I have work in the lower town. Thanks…well, for telling me all that. I'll see you later, Gaius."
He stepped out the door.
It was an abrupt exit, one he would likely regret later, but Merlin could not bring himself to turn back.