Chapter XVIII: New Shocks

They were going to hold the conversation as equals, all four of them, but nobody outside their quartet knew that. To the rest of the world, it just looked like Arthur and Morgana were planning to break their fast together, their loyal servants at their side. As a result, Merlin and Gwen met earlier than the others, preparing a small, mostly unused room for a very private meal. If those preparations happened to include temporary silencing wards, well, that was nobody's business but their own.

The kitchens were running late that morning—something to do with a summer cold working its way through the castle—so Merlin and Gwen had been told to ready the room and wait for the kitchen staff to bring up breakfast as soon as it was ready. "What do you think of Tintagel?" he asked her.

"It's lovely," the maid replied.

Merlin nodded. "No surprise there."

"Oh?" asked Gwen, an eyebrow arching up. "Why not? Because Morgana was born here?"

Not for the first time, Merlin cursed his pale coloration for how easily his blushes showed. "More like because she spent half the journey talking about how nice it is here."

"Yes," Gwen agreed, "you two have spent a great deal of time together recently."

Oh no. He should have expected this from the moment she walked in on them embracing. "That wasn't what it looked like."

"Actually, I think you two could be a good match."

Merlin pulled up short, blinked at her like an owl. "Huh?"

"You're already dear friends, and… sometimes I think I can see something else between you. And—" Her voice turned wistful. "You're highborn enough that nobody could really object to the match, being son of the Lord of the Isle and magical royalty to boot." Not like me, she didn't say.

"Did I tell you about the People's Queen? Because if I didn't, I need to tell you as soon as I'm done reminding you that I am most certainly not magical royalty and—" The door slid open. Merlin paused to make sure it was just Morgana, then continued. "Besides, the Isle is probably going to Ganieda, anyways, as I'll probably be stuck at court babysitting Arthur for the rest of my life."

"Ganieda?" Morgana repeated. She didn't look so good, Merlin noted. Had her nightmares kept her up again, or had she been thinking too hard to fall asleep? Gods knew that he'd had plenty of trouble succumbing to slumber.

"Mother is pretty certain the baby is a girl, and she's very good at predicting that kind of thing." Because she may or may not be the mortal daughter of exiled Sidhe. He really needed to write to her about that. "She and Father decided on Ganieda after one of his ancestors whose life story has a few significant parallels with Mother's."

"Ganieda Caledonensis. I like it." Then the smile slipped off her face. "Does Arthur know about all that?"

"No," Merlin confessed. "He said he didn't want to hear about my auxiliary secrets until he was drunk, so I didn't explain to him about my father being a dragonlord or about starting the whole resistance thing."

"Or about being magical royalty?" Morgana asked dryly.

"Of course I didn't mention that, because I'm not."

Neither of the women looked particularly convinced. Morgana went so far as to roll her eyes.

Someone knocked on the door. Merlin, conscious of the silencing wards, gestured for Morgana to open it. The castle servants entered with a mouthwatering meal of steaming pancakes, thick bacon, and fresh summer fruit. Their lady thanked them politely before returning her attention to her manservant. "Merlin, where's Arthur?"

"He had to send a letter to his father, but he should be here—oh, hi, Arthur."

One of the castle servants actually winced at his impropriety. Poor thing would never make it in Camelot.

"Hello, Merlin," said Arthur, who looked more like a man walking to his execution than a man preparing to enjoy breakfast with his friends. "Morgana, Guinevere."

The one servant was beginning to look faintly scandalized. Merlin wasn't sure why. Was it because Arthur had long ago accepted the futility of scolding him for misdemeanors like this and hadn't bothered to chide him? Thankfully, she and her coworker had done their duty already, so they bowed and backed out of the room. She gave Merlin a very significant glare as she did so, probably intending to show him how it was supposed to be done. Merlin just smiled and gave her a little wave. Her glare hardened as the door closed between them.

Now that it was time to begin, Merlin found that he didn't know what to say. That was all right, though. Surely someone else would start the conversation? But everybody remained silent as they filed into their seats, piled breakfast onto their plates.

Should he say something? He should probably say something. After all, it was his fault they were here. Sort of. Arthur had given the order, but it had been in response to Merlin's secrets. So, logically, he ought to be the one to say something.

"I am not magical royalty."

Arthur froze with a piece of bacon halfway to his lips.

"Morgana and Gwen will try to say that I am, but they're wrong. I'm not quite certain where they got the idea, but I am in no way, shape, or form magical royalty."

Arthur stared at the warlock in budding horror, which hopefully meant that he would take Merlin's side in this ridiculousness. Perhaps he was even offended on his friend's behalf.

"He's in denial about being magical royalty," Morgana explained, spearing a bite of pancake with her fork.

"No I'm not."

"So you admit it, then?"

"There's nothing to be in denial about because I am not, never have been, and never will—"

"Sophia called you Lord Emrys." Arthur's gaze was blank. "I thought she meant that the real you was one of Father's lordlings. And the unicorn bowed."

"Unicorn?" Gwen asked.

"That means nothing," Merlin protested.

"He's the figurehead and founder of an international magical conspiracy," Morgana chirped, her lips twitching.

Arthur looked from his foster sister to his friend as though hoping for a denial. "What magical resistance movement?"

"You know how people have been doing good magical deeds in public and then running away? I helped come up with the idea, though of course it was the druids who refined it and spread word."

"Until the summit. That was his idea, too."

"Summit?" the prince squeaked. His breakfast cooled before him, entirely forgotten.

"Yes, summit," Merlin tried to explain. "There was this big meeting—"

"And you led it?"

"I…I suppose that technically—"

"You did lead it."

"…technically."

Arthur's eyes were wild as they darted around the table. "Would anyone else like to confess their insane secrets? Guinevere, are you also some kind of half fairy-thing?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she answered honestly.

"Good. Bloody excellent. What about you, Morgana? Any magical powers that I should know about?"

The lady went rigid, her face white.

"Of course you do," Arthur groaned. "Of bloody… this is all your fault, Merlin."

"Excuse me?" the warlock squawked.

"We're going to the training fields," Arthur declared, standing.

"We are?"

"I need to hit something."

"But you said yesterday that I could have the day off to work on Sigan's grimoire."

Arthur swore.

"I'm… sure that the castle guards would be willing to spar with you," Gwen assured him timidly. She kept glancing between her prince and her lady as though wondering which of them to comfort first. "But maybe you should finish your breakfast first?"

Arthur froze for a moment, then gave a long, low groan. The prince buried his head in his hands, slid back down into his seat. "Right," he mumbled, "right." Then, looking up, he said, "Anything else you'd like to add, Merlin?"

"… Are you saying that you want to hear my auxiliary secrets?"

"You have more of them?" Arthur whined.

"Not many," Merlin assured his friend. "You already knew about quite a few of my activities as Emrys, and now you know that I'm Emrys and part of the magical resistance. Oh, and the prophecies and the thing about my grandparents." (Morgana and Gwen, who had not yet heard his new theory about exiled Sidhe, exchanged looks of alarm.) "So there's only a couple things left."

"Get it over with," Arthur ordered through gritted teeth.

"My father is actually the last Dragonlord, Balinor Caledonensis, he and Mother were made rulers of the Isle of the Blessed after the summit, and I left a few volunteers behind in Camelot in case Sigan tries anything." Merlin paused, considered. "I think that you already know the rest of the major events. Everything else is just filling in the details. I mean, there's always a possibility that I've forgotten something, but I swear I honestly can't think of any other big secret."

Arthur was silent.

"I can," said Morgana. Her face was pale, and she spoke to her half-empty plate rather than any one person. "He's been teaching me."

That got a reaction out of the overloaded prince. "Are you out of your mind?" he snarled, whirling on his manservant.

"Someone has to," Merlin protested.

"No, my sister does not need to learn magic in the middle of Camelot!"

(Any other time, Merlin—and the ladies too, probably—would have teased Arthur about his slip-up while secretly being pleased by it. This wasn't the time.)

"Actually—"

"No, Merlin, shut up. You might not have a choice but—" Arthur blinked, pulled up short. He was quiet for a long moment. "Oh."

"My dreams are… you know… too," Morgana continued, her voice stilted and forced. "I can see the future in them, sometimes, though I'm not very good."

"And you can't help it," Arthur sighed. "Neither of you can help it."

Merlin was beginning to get worried about Arthur's many sudden mood swings. Cycling through so many emotions so quickly wasn't like him. Still, the warlock supposed, it was infinitely better than getting stuck on one inconvenient emotion—rage or grief or betrayal. Arthur was listening, and that was the most important thing.

Then again, had he ever had to suddenly adjust to so much adverse information in such a short amount of time? First the news about his birth—no, it had started before that. Merlin had told him about the prophecies right when they left for Tintagel. It must have been a nasty shock for a man who'd grown up on stories of magic's evils (even a man who had learned to question those stories) to suddenly learn that he was apparently destined to return it to the land. Then he'd learned the truth about his birth from Elyan's rumors, a truth that Merlin probably should have told him about earlier rather than letting him hear it from gossip and speculation. Then Merlin had come clean about being a warlock, about being Emrys, and about his other secrets as well. Finally came the revelation that Morgana also had magic, that she was a witch and a Seer. Oh, and that she and Gwen had also known about Merlin. Maybe Arthur was suffering some sort of shock fatigue that made his emotions unstable. It made as much sense as anything else.

"I think that's it, though," Morgana finally mumbled, after a long and awkward silence. "I can't think of any other major revelations that Arthur needs to know to get him up to speed. What about you, Merlin, Gwen?" They shook their heads.

"Thank the gods," Arthur muttered.

Conversation faltered after that, everyone trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Soon Merlin and Gwen were taking dishes back to the kitchen.

"That went well, I think," the warlock finally said.

"Tell that to Morgana," Gwen replied worriedly. "She didn't want that."

"Neither did I," Merlin admitted. "But… he was more worried about her than angry. That's a good sign, right? I don't even think he's that worried about me."

Gwen smiled. "Did you hear him call her his sister?"

Merlin's eyes went wide. He had. It had just slipped his mind after everything else. "He did, didn't he?" A smile. "I hope Morgana heard that."

His friend's smile widened. "I think she did."

Gaius had been busier than usual with Merlin gone, so it took awhile for the news to reach his ears. When he heard, though, he had too many patients to attend to and was left to stew on his thoughts for hours before he could slip away.

By that point, of course, the king was busy. With preparations, the rumors said. Gaius hoped not, for if Uther was making preparations, then the initial rumor—the whisper that had brought him out of his chambers—was true, and that would spell disaster for Camelot.

He went to Geoffrey instead, seeking out his old friend in the library. When he entered the book-filled room, the archivist looked at him with an expression as worried as Gaius felt. The physician's heart plummeted into his stomach.

"You've heard the rumors, I take it?" Geoffrey asked.

"I have. Are they…?"

"Aye."

Gaius slid into a chair. "But why now? The timing makes no sense!"

"I know," said Geoffrey, old and tired. Gaius suddenly remembered his friend as a young man, his face untouched by wrinkles. Where had the years gone? "With everything that has happened lately, the last thing we need is another war."

It was true. Cornelius Sigan was the only true threat to Camelot, but from most peoples' perspective, the citadel was already besieged on all sides. The dragon's escape was common knowledge, as was the existence of Emrys and the massive break-in that had freed over a hundred prisoners. The Raven's Key had been used for the first time in centuries, and while its magic had not killed any of the guards (or citizens, for that matter), the attack had demonstrated the guards' helplessness against stone come to life.

Yet despite the threats on his doorstep, Uther had for some reason chosen now of all times to declare war on King Odin.

Perhaps Gaius shouldn't be surprised. After all, Odin had recently sent an assassin after Arthur. In the chaos of Sigan's attacks and the panic caused by Merlin's actions as Emrys, he'd barely even noticed the attempt. Merlin and Gwen had foiled it easily enough, Uther had raged, and Arthur had reminded his father why declaring war for that slight was a terrible idea. They had no proof it was Odin, he had pointed out, and besides, they had other things to worry about. Things like Cornelius Sigan, who had vowed to destroy Camelot, and even the great meeting of the Five Kingdoms scheduled for the end of summer.

Uther had seen sense then. He hadn't liked it, but he'd seen sense. Why, then, had he changed his mind? And why now, over a fortnight after the assassination attempt? Was it because Arthur, who had protested the war so vehemently, was finally gone?

"I must make him see sense," the physician muttered, standing once again.

"I don't think you'll be able to," said Geoffrey quietly.

Something in the historian's voice gave Gaius pause. "Why do you say that?"

Geoffrey hesitated. His eyes darted around the library, empty save for them. His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke. "I am not certain that Uther was the one to declare war."

Gaius's heart stuttered. "You think…?"

"I haven't seen any proof," Geoffrey admitted, "but that might not mean anything. He had me for days without arousing suspicion."

"And now you think he is possessing Uther."

"He wants to destroy Camelot," Geoffrey replied. A shudder wracked his frame. "I felt his hatred, Gaius, and I don't think it would be satisfied with just the destruction of the citadel proper. Whatever Bruta Pendragon did to him—not just his death, whatever came before that—it left him twisted and bitter and furious. I don't doubt he would start a pointless war to sate his rage."

"Do you know what Bruta did?" Gaius asked softly. He'd been wondering that for a long time.

Geoffrey sighed. "Something about a dragonlord's wife. That's all I could discover. He had much better access to my memories than I had to his. Does it matter, though? Whoever she is, she's long dead, just like Bruta and Innogen and the rest of them."

Gaius acknowledged the point with a nod. He supposed it didn't matter, not when Sigan was so set on destroying them all. But while they were on the topic of the old mage, he should ask. "Have you any information about his grimoire? If it were found, it might have a way to stop him." If they could break the code, that was. He'd had no luck with it.

The historian grimaced. "Camelot."

"…It's in Camelot?"

"Presumably, but… I think it's something more. He just always thought of that word in relation to the grimoire, and I don't know why." He looked so frustrated then, so tired. "Everything else, I already said in my debriefing. I just don't know."

Not for the first time, Gaius wished he'd been there for his friend's interrogation.

Silence lingered for a long moment. Finally Geoffrey squared his shoulders. "We have to stop him."

"Yes." A plan was beginning to form. "We do."

I... do not like this chapter. I just don't.

Congratulations to everybody who figured out that the code was vigenere, and double congratulations to the people who actually managed to crack it. You are much smarter than I am.

I recently got super-obsessed with Over the Garden Wall and wrote a one-shot, because clearly that's what I should be focusing on right now. It's called "til your leaves touch the sky" and I'm actually kind of proud of it. I certainly like it better than this chapter.

Next update: September 29. Gaius has a plan. Arthur continues to adjust.

EDIT: I forgot the alternate chapter title, so here it is. Alternate chapter title: "In Which Merlin Remains Firmly in Denial About the Fact He is, Indeed, Magical Royalty"

-Antares