Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
Chapter Eight
Merlin looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot, and he flinched at every noise as he helped Arthur dress.
It was strange – Merlin spent so much time at the tavern, and yet Arthur was sure this was the first time he had ever seen him hungover. Under normal circumstances, he would have teased him for it, but wasn't sure how angry Merlin still was with him.
"Are you feeling all right?" he asked instead, getting a grunt in response, and Arthur hid a smile. There was something incongruous about seeing Merlin hungover, and he just couldn't help himself from being amused. And yes, maybe a part of him was gratified to see Merlin suffer some as a result of his time with Lancelot the night before. "Gaius has a great remedy, you know. I've begged him for mercy more than once after a celebration. It won't fix it, but it will take the edge off."
Merlin gave him a long look, as though waiting to see if Arthur was going to lecture him. "I've already had it," he admitted grudgingly. "It did help. Just not enough."
Arthur had to laugh at that. "Exactly how much did you have to drink last night?"
Merlin winced as he helped Arthur into his shirt. "Quieter, please. And more than I've ever had in my life. I will never drink that much again. And I don't want to hear anything out of you – as I recall, you stayed in bed until lunch the day after Yule last year."
"Answering my questions, and you're picking at me," Arthur observed, pleased. "Does this mean you're officially done giving me the silent treatment?"
Merlin didn't answer immediately as he straightened the shirt, and Arthur looked over to see Merlin staring at his neck, a startling look of fury in his eyes. For a moment he thought Merlin was considering throttling him – a disconcerting idea – and then he realized that Merlin's gaze was fixed on the cut from the sorceress's sword. Arthur felt touched by his servant's anger at the superficial wound. He opened his mouth to reassure him, but before he could say anything, the fury faded to weariness, and Merlin sighed and moved to the table to begin laying out breakfast.
"I just want you and Camelot to be safe, Arthur. I'm not going to apologize for being angry at you when I think your stubbornness is getting in the way of that."
"Fair enough," Arthur acknowledged. "You're a true friend, Merlin. Even if you're a complete idiot, which you must be to yell at the king in front of his knights." He raised an eyebrow at Merlin, but his servant looked unabashed. "I'm grateful for your honesty, though. And believe it or not, I am trying to keep Camelot safe."
"I believe you."
Arthur ate in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to parse through the situation. "I wish he would just tell me who he is," he said finally. "He supposedly thinks I'm worth protecting, but he doesn't trust me enough to tell me who he is. That's strange, isn't it?"
"Not really," Merlin shrugged. "The laws against magic are just one part of Camelot. You're a good king in general. It doesn't surprise me that he can see that, even if magic is illegal."
Arthur looked at him in surprise. "In general?" he repeated. "That's a bit more qualified than what you usually say." Merlin looked down guiltily. "Do you think I'm wrong about magic?"
Merlin's face tightened, and he seemed genuinely conflicted when he answered. "Some days I think you might have a point. That it might be inherently worth fearing. That is might corrupt good people. But most of the time…most of the time, I believe magic is just a tool. Whether it's evil or good depends on how it's used."
Arthur stared at him for a moment. "That's unexpected," he murmured, almost to himself. "Merlin, you've always seemed like you distrusted magic. I never would have taken you for a defender of it."
Merlin chose his words carefully. "I've always thought there might be good to it. But to say so in Camelot – and to the king, no less – seemed unwise. Even now, I'm not sure it's a good idea, given everything you said yesterday."
"What?" Arthur stared at him in shock. "I didn't know you ever held back an opinion just because it was unwise. I didn't know you were even capable of it!"
Merlin just shrugged. "Now you know."
Arthur turned his attention back to his breakfast, rattled by that revelation. "Any other opinions you're keeping from me?"
"I thought the crown you wore as a prince looked ridiculous," Merlin offered, and Arthur shot a glare at him. That wasn't the kind of opinion he meant, and Merlin knew it.
Arthur poked at his food for a bit, then stood up from the table and paced to the window. The shields were gone this morning, and surprisingly, he felt a little bit of disappointment mingled in with his relief. He didn't like such a blatant display of magic, but it had provided a unexpected sense of security.
"As much as it pains me to admit it, you're typically a good judge of character, Merlin. Do you trust Emrys? Do you honestly believe he has Camelot's best intentions at heart?"
"Yes," Merlin answered after an almost imperceptible pause. "I'd trust him with my life."
"Even though you don't know who he is, and you're not sure about magic?" That was hard for Arthur to comprehend.
"Like I said, I know he protects you. That's enough for me."
Arthur sighed and turned away from the window. "I wish it were enough for me. If I just knew who he was, maybe…if Lancelot would just tell me." His hands tightened into fists in frustration.
"Arthur?" Merlin asked tentatively. "May I make a request?"
He blinked. "All right." Merlin might complain frequently, but it was unusual for him to explicitly ask for anything. And even stranger that he would ask permission first.
"Will you try to at least consider the possibility that Emrys doesn't mean you harm?"
"I am," Arthur protested, but Merlin shook his head.
"You look for reasons not to trust him. You assume the worst every chance you have. Will you just try to give him the benefit of the doubt?"
Arthur frowned. He had to admit, Merlin had a point. And Gwaine had made a good point too – Emrys wasn't likely to come forward if he thought Arthur was determined to see him as an enemy. Perhaps it was time for a new approach.
"All right," he conceded, nodding to Merlin. "I will try. But I want to ask something of you in return."
Merlin's face turned wary. "What is that?"
"I want you to talk to Lancelot. I know the two of you are friends – I want you to try to convince him to tell me who Emrys is. Or to tell you."
"I'm not repeating something Lancelot tells me in confidence," Merlin said immediately, prompting Arthur to role his eyes.
"Why do all of my friends have so much integrity?" he grumbled, and he felt a bit of satisfaction when he saw Merlin smile. At least they were back to normal. "Fine. But will you talk to him and try to persuade him to tell me?" He could order Merlin to do it, but he was reluctant to go that route. He was sure that if he were coerced, Merlin's efforts would be halfhearted at best.
Merlin stared at him for a moment, and then for some reason he chuckled under his breath. "Fine. I'll talk to him," he agreed.
After Merlin left – hopefully to talk to Lancelot – Arthur walked back to the window and rested his head against it, closing his eyes as he tried to think.
Part of him regretted the promise he'd just made to Merlin. He didn't want to give Emrys the benefit of the doubt. If he was being honest with himself, his skepticism wasn't about protecting Camelot from a sorcerer. It was about protecting himself.
Something about the idea of this man who would be both his friend and his equal struck a chord of hope in him, and that hope felt dangerous. He'd done his best to keep it at arm's length, to avoid thinking about it. There were too many ways it could go wrong.
He might simply never find Emrys, and spend his life chasing an empty and silly dream. Or worse, he could find Emrys and misplace his trust in him, only to have the sorcerer turn on him and on Camelot. What kind of fool would he be to trust someone with magic, which he knew to be evil, simply because he had moments of loneliness? No, not loneliness exactly…more like a longing. Like there was some undefinable gap in his life, and the druid's words just felt right – like the gap should be filled by a friend who was an equal, and this Emrys might be the one to fill it.
And of course, there was also the issue of sorcery and the law. Magic was punishable by death. What happened if Arthur made friends with a sorcerer? And what did that mean about all of the people who had been executed for sorcery over the past twenty-five years?
Sighing, he pushed himself away from the window and sat down at his desk. The promise was made. The best thing to do now was not to dwell on it. Not to acknowledge that stubborn stirring of hope. Instead, he turned his attention to the single piece of paper sitting in front of him. He had drawn the sketch the night before, clumsily and without skill, but he thought it might be passable for his purposes.
When the sorceress had held the sword to his throat in the courtyard, he'd seen the tattoo on the back of her hand. A bramble, adorned with leaves and thorns. It might be nothing, but it was the only lead he had on the identity of Camelot's attackers. Picking up the paper, he headed to the archive.
"Arthur!" Geoffrey said with evident surprise, scrambling to his feet to bow. Arthur had never been one to spend time in the archive; on the very rare occasion that he had need of a book, he sent a servant to fetch it. But he wasn't sure what he was looking for this time, and he didn't really want to share his idea with anyone until he knew it had merit.
"Good morning, Geoffrey. I'm hoping you might be able to help me find something." He handed Geoffrey the crude sketch. "I'm trying to find out if this tattoo has any significance."
Geoffrey frowned at the paper, thinking. "I don't recognize it. But you said it's a tattoo?" He walked to one of the shelves, trailing his fingers across the spines of the books until he found the one he was looking for. "Here. This book discusses tattoos in general, and how they're used in different parts of the Five Kingdoms. And this one…" he hesitated for a moment before handing Arthur the second book. "This one describes the different ritualistic markings from the Old Religion." Geoffrey eyed him nervously, as though even mentioning the Old Religion might raise Arthur's ire.
"Thank you," Arthur said, taking both books. "I'll return these once I'm done."
"I'm happy to do the research for you, sire," Geoffrey offered, and for a moment Arthur was tempted. Poring through books wasn't really his thing. But he wanted to do this one himself.
"Thank you for the offer, but I can manage."
Books in hand, he returned to his chambers.
AN: I want to give a shout-out to a couple of authors whose work I've been binging recently. NotNecessarilyInThatOrder and Charis77's stories have great storytelling and pacing, and they do a great job with Arthur and Merlin's friendship. Check them out if you haven't already! (Also, if you have particular stories you love, feel free to PM those to me, especially if they're heavy on the bromance and light on romance!)