Chapter 2 - Sanctuary & Hellfire

[One Day Later]

Arthur was exhausted. The search for the Druid Guinevere had lasted throughout the night with no signs of her. As the senior knight, Arthur had stayed to oversee and direct the search parties, renewing their orders each time they reported back empty-handed.

Now that it was well into the afternoon, Arthur felt just about ready to drop dead. But he was disciplined enough to bear through it. He was far too used to pushing his limits since he had been away in foreign lands, leading the wars.

Oh, what he was reduced to.

He certainly didn't agree with Uther's ways, but what choice did he have but to follow orders?

The knight was broken out of his silent lamentations as a pair of soldiers appeared. Just as he expected, they had not found the girl. Before he could take out his frustration on them, he sent them to search the sewer. Okay, maybe he did take out a little anger on them, but the sewers needed to be searched anyway. Arthur wasn't going to do it.

As he watched them go, a familiar figure caught his eye.

It was the old man to whom he had donated generously on the day of his arrival. Hunched over in his blanket, the man was hobbling slowly up the steps of the cathedral. As per the law, they had not been allowed to search there, but Arthur doubted the Druid would take sanctuary unless she had to.

Arthur smiled softly as he noted that the man had a new blanket. Though it wasn't new, it was definitely better than the last one. He thought to catch up with him and give him a bit more out of his pocket. He didn't really know why. Something about this old man just struck him as -

The "old man," upon reaching the doors of the Camelot Palace, turned to look back. A tan face with cautious chocolate eyes appeared underneath a white goat, then quickly ducked into the church.

Sir Arthur frowned thoughtfully, then pressed his lips into a thin line and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course. What a clever Druid.

He shook himself, glancing around surreptitiously. He motioned to a nearby officer, then told him that he was in charge until further notice. The knight agreed, taking his place on the platform. The rain had washed away the remainders of the boy's humiliation.

Arthur quickly made his way to the church, hoping to catch the Druid. Only, to speak with her, mind, because he could not legally arrest her while she was inside. He spotted her instantly.

Guinevere had apparently never set foot in the church before then, seeing how she was standing stock still a few yards into the huge entrance chamber, looking around in awe at the architecture. Arthur glanced up as well, but he had been inside many churches due to his religion and was no longer impressed by the familiar sight.

The knight cleared his throat as he approached, and the Druid whipped around in surprise.

"What do you want?" she asked, her harsh voice echoing slightly.

"A man can't come to church and pray to his saint?" Arthur replied lightly.

Guinevere hesitated, obviously weighing whether he was telling the truth. Arthur smiled and pointed behind her toward a statue of a serene-faced warrior, hand clasped around the hilt of the sword at his hip.

"The patron Saint of knights," Arthur said. "Gorlois."

"Oh," she uttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "Um, I'm sorry. I don't...I'm not...I just -"

"You're hiding," Arthur finished for her. "It's as good a place as any. No one can touch you here. The church is open to anyone who needs help, you know."

"Yes," Guinevere answered thoughtfully.

"Do you mind?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh!" The girl flushed again, moving aside so that he could pass. "Of course, sorry."

Arthur flashed her a grin and ambled up to Saint Gorlois, making a small show of bowing his head and clasping his hands. He could feel Guinevere watching him, though he knew she was trying hard not to. But he really did pray to the holy man; he probably needed it.

After a moment he raised his head and turned back. Guinevere quickly averted her gaze so as not to get caught staring.

"Where's your goat?"

Guinevere looked up at him in surprise. "Morgana? Oh, she's probably gone off looking for some food. Always hungry, that Morgana."

"I see...Er, I'm Arthur. It means 'strong as a bear'."

She cocked her head at him curiously. "You're not at all like the other knights."

"Thank you," Arthur said sincerely. "Er, my name's Arthur," he repeated meaningfully. "It means 'strong as a bear'."

Her cheeks blossomed even redder than before. "Guinevere. It, um, means 'phantom'."

"That's a beautiful name," Arthur replied. "Fitting, I think, the way you disappeared like that. Much better than Arthur, at any rate."

They smiled at one another, each admiring the other's eyes. Neither noticed the approach of Uther and several knights.

"Good work, Sir Arthur!" Uther said, pleased. "Now, arrest her."

Arthur, with his back to the king, scowled. Guinevere's shock was quickly replaced by fury. "You tricked me!" she accused him.

"Claim sanctuary," he whispered through clenched teeth.

Guinevere only gave him a disgusted look.

"Say it!" he hissed.

"I'm waiting, Sir Arthur."

Arthur spun around, straightening and clasping his hands behind his back. "She claimed sanctuary, Sire. I am sorry. There is nothing I can do."

Uther's expression hardened. "Then drag her outside and -"

"Uther!" shouted a familiar voice. They turned to the old physician as he entered, a dusty tome in his hands. Though he looked much older than he had twenty years ago, the anger towards Uther's misdeeds were read very clearly. "You will not touch her!"

Uther glared at the man with wide eyes.

Gaius turned to Guinevere, his eyes portraying kindness. "Don't worry. King Uther learned years ago to respect the sanctity of the church." He turned meaningfully back to Uther, whose lip curled at him.

"If you'll excuse me," Gaius said, moving along. He shot one last warning look at the king.

Uther and the knights begrudgingly turned to leave, and the king beckoned his senior knight to come. Arthur followed without glancing back at Guinevere, who watched them leave with both relief and satisfaction.

She thought to run after the old physician to thank him and ask his advice, but a strong grip on her arm startled her. Guinevere turned back, only to meet the sneer of Uther. He twisted her arm behind her back, causing her to cry out. A hand clamped over her mouth halted any cry for help.

"You think you have outwitted me," he whispered into her ear. "But I am a patient man, and Druids don't do well inside stone walls."

He paused, breathing deeply as he buried his nose in her hair, much to her disgust.

She managed to twist her mouth out of his grip. "What are you doing?" she demanded, still struggling.

"I was just imagining a rope around that beautiful neck," he said huskily, caressing her smooth skin.

"I know what you were imagining," she retorted, suppressing a shudder. Guinevere finally managed to escape his grasp, spinning around to face him and taking several large steps back.

Uther smirked wryly. "Such a clever little witch. So typical of your kind, to twist the truth to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts. Well, no matter." The king turned to leave at last, casting a thoughtful gaze around the candlelit chamber as he walked. "You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine!"

With a final snake-like glare, Uther slammed the door to her freedom.

Guinevere, spotting a door on the opposite side of the room, hurried over to it, picking up her skirts so she didn't trip. She pulled the door open, intending to run, but was stopped short at the sight of a squadron of armored knights.

Before she could close it again, she caught the words, "Uther's orders! Post a guard at every door!"

Morgana suddenly bounded back to her, tiny hooves clicking loudly on the floor. In her mouth was a chewed-up lace doily.

"One thing, Morgana," Guinevere said, kneeling absently to take it away and pat her, "if Uther thinks he can keep us here, he's wrong."

"Don't act rashly, child," Gaius said, appearing. Guinevere stood as he approached.

"Oh, is this yours?" she asked sheepishly, holding up the ruined doily. "I'll repair it, sorry."

Gaius smiled. "Your friend can keep it, since she's taken such a liking to it." But then he sobered. "You caused quite a stir at the festival, young lady. It would be unwise to arouse Uther's anger further."

"You saw what he did out there," Guinevere protested, "letting the crowd torture that poor boy. I just thought that if one person could stand up to him, then..."

Gaius' sad smile returned. "Well, thank you for helping him. Merlin thinks very highly of you, I'm sure."

"Merlin?" she repeated. "You know him?"

"Yes," he replied. "I raised him - or tried to, at least. Uther practically owns the boy, and keeps him locked away in the bell tower."

Guinevere looked aghast. "But why?"

"Come with me," Gaius said.

He led her deeper into the church, passing all manners of saints and alters. Several people were kneeling to pray, and she consciously tried to walk silently. She didn't understand the religion, so she most definitely didn't want to interrupt in any way. When Morgana attempted to go after the flowers a patron had brought, Guinevere quickly scooped her up and hurried away, horribly embarrassed even though no one saw.

At last they reached the end of the huge chamber, stopping before a new-looking, larger than life statue. It was a kindly looking woman with long wavy hair. Her gown bulged in the front, and her hands were wrapped lovingly around it. The saint's chin was tucked down toward her full bosom, indicating that she was looking at her protruding belly.

"She's beautiful," Guinevere whispered.

"Yes," Gaius agreed. "This is Ygraine Pendragon, the late wife of Uther and patron Saint of pregnancy."

Guinevere gaped. "What happened to her? Was she a Druid? Did Uther kill her?"

"No, not at all. Uther loved her with all his heart. They were expecting their first child together," Gaius said. "But in her last month of pregnancy, Ygraine caught ill and died, taking her child along with her. Uther was devastated."

"And that's why he's evil?" Guinevere deduced. "But why persecute my people?"

Gaius gave her a sorrowful look. "Before her death, Uther turned away from our religion and went to the Druids for help. He believed that with their magic they would be able to save her and the baby, but it was not to be. He blames their lack of success, and punishes your kind."

Suddenly Guinevere pitied the king. "Oh," was all she could seem to say. She turned her gaze up to Ygraine. Her hand reached up as though to touch Ygraine's belly, but she hesitated.

Gaius smiled. "Go on. Ygraine is kind to all those who seek her comfort, just as all saints are."

Guinevere returned his smile tentatively and touched it. The stone was cold and smooth beneath her fingertips, but a strange warmth seemed to emanate nonetheless. "I wonder what she would have named it," she murmured.

"Catherine," Gaius said, "if it were a girl. Uther, however, was hoping for a son. He wanted to name him Arthur."

The Druid's head snapped toward the old man, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Well," Gaius said, "I must be going. Please feel free to wander about, but do try to stay out of trouble."

"Of course," she answered gratefully. "Thank you."

She watched his receding posterior until he had gone, then turned back to Ygraine.

"I don't know if you can hear me," she said softly, hopefully, clasping her hands in front of her as she had seen Arthur do. "I know I'm just a Druid, and that I shouldn't be asking for your help, but Gaius said...I mean..."

She bit her lip, trailing off uncertainly. But she shook her head and tried once more.

"I know you're the patron Saint of pregnancy, but you and Gorlois are the only two saints I know. I'm not sure how this works, but...I was hoping that perhaps you could help me. Well, not only me, but my people.

"There are so many of us, but it is difficult here. We must always hide what we can do, run when Uther's guards come. Many of us have perished under his rule. I can get by because of my beauty, I suppose, but there are many who are so less fortunate than I."

Guinevere took a shuddering breath before continuing, "That boy yesterday, Merlin. Please protect him as well. I don't know him, but he was treated just as cruelly as my own people. He needs you.

"I thought we were all citizens of Camelot? Shouldn't we all have the same rights, the same protection as everyone else? Please, Ygraine. You must help us, somehow...Thank you," she finished, quickly wiping her eyes.

Morgana nuzzled her leg lovingly, and Guinevere smiled down at her.

"You!" shouted a sudden voice, startling her. The Druid whipped around, but the nobleman did not appear to be addressing her. "Sorcerer! What are you doing down here?!"

A candelabra was knocked to the floor to her right, clattering loudly on the floor and spilling wax everywhere. Scrambling to set it upright was Merlin, looking flustered and frightened as the man stormed closer, shooing him with a hand as though he were a stray dog.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble already?" the noble demanded.

Finally managing to get the brass stand back into position, Merlin fled to a staircase and disappeared up it. Guinevere pushed past the noble, running after the boy.

"Wait!" she called, lifting her skirts. "I want to talk to you!"

Merlin stumbled at the top of the staircase, but quickly regained his footing and continued without looking back. Unfortunately, Guinevere was just as quick as he and was catching up.

Merlin reached his room and cast his gaze about desperately, looking for an escape. The balcony was out of the question. "Quick!" he whispered at his friends, who stood watching him across the room. "Hide me!"

They all shared a panicked expression, but shrugged when it had yielded no help. Merlin stamped his foot in frustration, and the trio disappeared.

"Here you are!" gasped Guinevere, finally catching up to the bottom landing and looking up at him. "I was afraid I'd lost you."

"Yes," Merlin uttered awkwardly, backing away. "Um, well, I uh, I have chores to do. It was, uh, nice...seeing...you...again. Ohh," he moaned and turned away, fleeing to the balcony.

"No, wait!" Guinevere stretched a hand out to him, but he didn't see. She continued up the last of the stairs. "I'm really sorry about yesterday," she said quickly. "I had no idea who you were. If I had, I never in my life would have pulled...you up...on the stage..."

She trailed off as she reached Merlin's room, catching sight of a stained glass mobile and the diorama of the city. She was in awe of the simplistic beauty. It was nicer than anything she had ever owned.

"What is this place?" Guinevere asked, looking around and noticing a few picture books and pressed flowers.

Merlin peeked around a support structure, watching the girl cautiously. When she seemed genuinely interested, he replied, "This is where I live."

She bent over the carving table, examining the townspeople. "Did you make all these things yourself?"

"Most of them," Merlin admitted, venturing a few steps inside.

Guinevere looked up to study the mobile, the carefully-arranged pieces dangling and reflecting the bright light of the day. She touched a red shard, and it danced playfully. "This is beautiful," she breathed. "If I could do this, you wouldn't find me dancing in the streets for coins."

Merlin looked shocked. "But you're a wonderful dancer."

She smiled wryly at him and said, "Well, it keeps bread on the table, anyway. What's this?"

"Oh no, please," Merlin held his hands out as Guinevere picked up a half-whittled block of wood. "I'm not finished," he rambled, "I-I-I still have to paint them!"

Guinevere smiled, delighted, and said, "The blacksmith and the baker! You're a surprising person, Merlin. Not to mention lucky. All this room to yourself."

"Well," Merlin stuttered, "it's not just me. It's the saints and the birds and the - and of course the bells...Would you like to see them?"

Guinevere's eyes brightened. "Yes, of course! Wouldn't we, Morgana?"

Morgana, who had been clomping around to explore, looked up as she heard her name and trotted back.

Merlin grinned brightly, the first real smile Guinevere had seen on his face. "Follow me," he said. "I'll introduce you."

He led her to a ladder situated against the far wall and expertly clambered up it. Guinevere easily carried Morgana around her shoulders, and Merlin assisted her the last few steps. She looked around in awe at the sheer size and multitude of bronze bells.

"Never knew there were so many," she said.

Merlin grinned and pointed to the nearest, smallest one. "That's Little Sophia. We ring her when there's fire, and...Leon, Elyan, and Percival. They're triplets, you know." He had pointed to three consecutive bells of the same size, placed in a low position between two widely-spaced pillars. "I've never had to ring them, though, because the city has never been attacked. They've been bored."

Guinevere suddenly realized just how lonely Merlin was. He was isolated from society, never allowed to come down, if Gaius was correct. Uther must have allowed the crowd to torment him as a punishment for sneaking out, she was sure. The poor boy had made friends in the bells, naming them and apparently giving them personalities. He was able to sculpt tiny people from useless blocks of wood, so accurate in that he probably spent much of his time people watching. She had no doubt that he played with the pieces as well, seeing as he'd made a figure to represent himself and set it in the courtyard as though to interact with the others.

Her heart ached for him.

She meandered past him and ducked underneath the biggest bell she had ever seen. "And who's this?" she asked, her voice resounding musically within it.

Merlin ducked inside with her, placing a hand on the cool interior. "Kilgharrah," he whispered, voice husky with excitement.

"Kilgharrah," she repeated. "Hullo, Kilgharrah!" she raised her voice, and immediately regretted it because both she and Merlin had to cover their ears.

Merlin chortled. "He's always cranky, but he likes you," he whispered.

"Oh," she giggled.

"Would you like to see more?" he asked, ducking out again.

The Druid girl followed. "How about it, Morgana?"

Hearing her name, Morgana trotted over, hooves clacking loudly and happily.

"We'd love to," Guinevere answered, much to Merlin's delight.

"Good. I've saved the best for last!"

He led her to another ladder, and they came out on a small balcony.

Guinevere stared out at the city, her breath caught in her throat. She stepped forward, hardly aware of Merlin's pleased expression.

The sun had begun to set, splashing vibrant hues over the city. Several thin lines of smoke lazily drifted from chimneys, and the distant river, dyed pinks and oranges and purples, flowed smoothly.

"I bet the king himself doesn't have a view like this!" Guinevere exclaimed. "I could stay up here forever."

"You could, you know," Merlin said, nodding emphatically.

Guinevere's smile faded a bit. "Oh, no, I couldn't."

"Yes," he insisted. "You have sanctuary!"

"But not freedom," she replied sadly, and Merlin's grin slipped. "Druids don't do well inside stone walls."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully. "But you're not like other Druids. They're...evil."

Under her odd and defensive look, Merlin squirmed a little. "Who told you that?" she demanded, already knowing the answer.

"My master," he said, "Uther. He raised me."

Guinevere shook her head. "How could such a cruel man raise someone like you?"

"Cruel?!" Merlin gasped, shaking his head. "No, no! He saved my life. He took me in when no one else would, except for Gaius. I am a monster, you know."

Her anger flared again. "He told you that?"

Merlin shifted uneasily, looking around as though to check that no one was listening. He leaned forward. "I have magic."

Guinevere's brows shot up in surprise. It was no wonder, then, why Uther treated him badly. Merlin was obviously a Druid, but he didn't seem to know it, or at least didn't understand it very well. Uther had truly warped his mind, tricked him and taught him to hate his own very being.

Any pity she had previously felt for the king was ebbing fast.

"Give me your hand," Guinevere demanded.

Merlin looked wary. "Why?"

"Just let me see."

Reluctantly, Merlin extended his hand, and she turned his palm up. She pulled it close and scrutinized it, tracing a few lines with her fingers as though reading it. Merlin watched her curiously, staring hard as though he might understand what she was doing.

"Hmm," Guinevere said, "a long life line...Oh, and this one means you're shy. Hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm...Well, that's funny."

"What!" Merlin asked nervously.

"I don't see any," she shrugged.

"See any what?" he asked, fidgeting.

"Monster lines," she answered, lifting his hand as though to demonstrate. "Not a single one."

Utter relief spread across Merlin's face, and he gazed at his hand in awe. But then a worried crease appeared. "What about this one?" He shoved his other hand at the Druid, who humored him.

"Hmmm...Nope. None here, either. In fact, this line says you're kind and loving."

Merlin inhaled shakily and stared wonderingly at that hand.

"Now," Guinevere said, drawing his attention by placing her hands in his. "Look at me. Do you think I'm evil?"

"No, no, no!" Merlin shook his head. He looked down at her palms. "You are kind, and good, and - and -"

"And a Druid," she said. "And maybe Uther's wrong about the both of us."

Merlin locked eyes with her, breast swelling with an unfamiliar emotion. Then he clasped her hands in his. "You helped me," he said slowly, thinking hard. "Now I will help you."

Guinevere smiled kindly and shook her head gently. "But there's no way out. There's guards at every door."

"We won't use a door."

"You mean...climb down?" she clarified, feeling a bit queasy.

Merlin nodded eagerly. "You carry Morgana, I carry you."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Oh, Merlin...Okay. Come on, Morgana."

Guinevere knelt and picked up the small goat, hoping that she wouldn't regret this. Merlin beamed at her and securely wrapped an arm around her waist, helping her up onto the railing.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"Don't be afraid," Merlin whispered.

"I'm not afraid," Guinevere answered.

Merlin blinked in surprise, then flushed. "Oh," he said apologetically. "I was talking to myself."

Before Guinevere could tell him about her sudden change of heart, Merlin leapt forward, dragging her with him. Morgana bleated shrilly, and Guinevere squeezed her tighty.

Their descent was abruptly stopped, and the Druid girl looked up at the young man clutching her. He was gripping the raised hand of a weathered saint, already searching out the next handhold with his molten gold eyes. Guinevere's breath caught, and it had nothing to do with their dizzying height.

Merlin was powerful.

Very powerful.

Then they were falling again, zooming sideways and twisting midair so that Merlin could reach a small protrudence in the architecture. He steadied them by planting his feet against two walls that met at a concave corner, eyes searching again.

As she watched him map out their path down, she realized that he was the one who could change things. If she could convince him to help her - their - people, then they could overthrow Uther the tyrant and make Camelot safe once more. If anyone could do it, it was Merlin.

They dropped again, but this time Merlin didn't seem too concerned about grabbing anything. As they plummeted, Guinevere's stomach followed her thudding heart into her throat. She looked down to see that the ground that had been about two hundred feet below them was coming up fast.

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting back a scream.

For a split second she felt weightless. Then she felt their descent stop, and finally opened her eyes.

"Shh," Merlin whispered, face shadowed.

They were hidden in a small alcove about twenty feet up. Guinevere heard the clomping steps associated with knights, and their rowdy voices as they patrolled. They had never been particularly stealthy.

The knights passed obliviously, but just for good measure, Merlin sent a few barrels rolling away down the alley. The startled guards quickly gave chase, creating an effective diversion.

Merlin, with his new friends still tucked under his arm, clambered down the rest of the way. It was a bit clumsier due to his growing tired.

He set Guinevere down on the cobblestones, then breathed a sigh of relief.

"We did it," he grinned weakly, his eyes returned to the bottle blue color. He frowned a little. "I hope I didn't scare you."

"Not for an instant," Guinevere lied smoothly. She lifted her outer skirt and wrapped a trembling Morgana in it, smiling at Merlin reassuringly.

"I'll never forget you, Guinevere."

"Come with me," she said decidedly.

Merlin jolted in surprise, exhaustion forgotten. "What?!"

"To the Crystal Cave," she said. "Leave this place. You belong with us, Merlin."

As she had spoken, Merlin shook his head. "No, no. I'm never going back out there again. You saw what happened to me. No. The bell tower is where I belong."

Guinevere's shoulders sagged. She knew she wouldn't be able to convince him at the moment, not with how little time they had. "All right," she said. "I'll come to see you."

"What? Here?" he pulled a face. "But the knights, and Uther, and -"

"I'll come after sunset."

"At sunset," Merlin stammered out excuses, "I ring the bells, and then I clean the bells, and then I oil the bells, and then -"

Guinevere reached into her bosom and pulled out a long handkerchief with an interesting design. "All right," she conceded. "Here. If you ever need sanctuary, this will show you the way." The Druid girl handed it to him, and he took it gingerly, as though it were a newborn child.

"But how?" he breathed, studying it.

"Just remember," Guinevere whispered, "when you wear this, you hold the city in your hands."

Morgana suddenly bleated a small warning, and they both heard the guards approaching again.

"Hurry!" Merlin hissed. "You must go!"

Guinevere shot the boy one last grateful look, then turned and fled with Morgana. Merlin ducked back into the alcove as the knights returned, torch splaying orange light. After a moment, they turned the corner and disappeared, and Merlin breathed easily.

He looked down at the handkerchief. He'd never received such a lovely gift before. He would treasure it always. Merlin wrapped the red cloth around his neck, cherishing the feel of it. Feeling invigorated, he let his eyes flash that secret gold once more, bounding back up to his tower easily. Magic made everything so much better! Too bad it was evil...Or was it? Sweet Guinevere didn't seem to think it was.

So who was right and who was wrong?

At last, Merlin stumbled into his room again, yawning. He still had his chores to do before bed, though. He decided to hurry and finish. Using so much magic in a short span of time was really exhausting!

"Hi there."

Merlin started, whipping around at the man's voice. A blonde man - a knight - stood at the landing, regarding him. The young warlock stared at him, dumbstruck.

"I'm looking for the Druid girl. Have you seen her?" Arthur asked cordially.

Fiery anger flared in the pit of Merlin's belly, and he felt the familiar heat in his eyes. Arthur's startled and near-frightened expression was enough to inform Merlin that his magic had appeared again, but for once he did not care. He had to protect Guinevere.

"Whoa, whoa!" Arthur held up his hands in surrender, quickly backtracking as Merlin advanced. "Easy!"

"No knights!" Merlin shouted, clenching his fists.

A loud crack as the wooden rail to Arthur's left splintered slightly.

"Sanctuary!" Merlin fumed. "Get out!"

Arthur stopped on the second landing, looking a bit offended. "Wait!" he snapped, glaring up at Merlin. "All I wanted was to -"

"Go!"

Merlin stamped his foot on the topmost of his steps, eyes glowing fiercely. He really looked quite menacing, so unlike his usually kindly demeanor.

Arthur ignored the order. "I mean her no harm!"

"Go!"

Arthur folded his arms defiantly, sticking his chin out proudly.

The molten gold flickered, and Arthur smirked in satisfaction. His expression quickly turned to horror as Merlin jumped down, landing directly before him, and swung his hand - his hand that was engulfed in fire.

Arthur leapt back, but stumbled. His foot slipped as he missed a step, and he pinwheeled his arms as his body tipped. He was going to take a nasty tumble down the stairs, possibly break open his skull and die. Oh, what he was reduced to.

But an invisible hook behind Arthur's navel stopped his fall short, and then slammed him against the cold stone wall. The hand not covered in fire was outstretched toward him, magically pinning the knight.

Arthur squirmed uncomfortably, trying to get free. When it didn't work, he met the sorcerer's gaze, masking his fear carefully.

"You tell her from me," Arthur said seriously, "I didn't mean to trap her here. It was the only way to save her life. Will you tell her that?"

Merlin said nothing, studying the knight.

"Will you?" the man pressed, even though he was in no position to be making demands.

"If you go," Merlin answered steadily. "Now."

"I'll go."

Suddenly the pressure on his body was released, and Arthur stepped away from the wall. Merlin's fire had also left, leaving behind his blue eyes. Though he still looked wary and untrusting, Arthur could see once more the innocent, frightened boy who had been mistreated at the festival. He nodded curtly and left.

"Oh," Arthur paused. "And one more thing. Tell Guinevere she's very lucky."

"Why?"

He glanced over his armored shoulder. "To have a friend like you."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully, watching Arthur leave. Once he was out of sight and hearing, the young man returned to his room.

"Hey, there he is!" Will cried excitedly, throwing up his hands.

Merlin ignored him.

Lancelot appeared, grinning largely. "You ejected him quite efficiently, Merlin, I must say."

"The nerve of him!" scorned Will. "Coming around here trying to steal your girl."

"My girl?" Merlin repeated, cocking his head.

Freya appeared. "Guinevere, Merlin."

Will whistled suggestively.

Merlin flushed crimson. "Oh, no, no. Guinevere's my friend," he said.

"Oh, come on, Merlin," Freya crooned. "That feeling in your chest? Must be love."

"Yes," Lancelot agreed. "It says so here in this book Gaius gave you."

Merlin shook his head. "But it's a book..."

"So?" Will shrugged.

He shook his head again. "I have to get on with my chores," he sighed tiredly. Merlin rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his friends were gone.

Across the city of Camelot, in the Palace of Justice, Uther laid awake in his bedroom. At last, unable to sleep, he got up and crossed to the window. It was a starry night, and most of the city was asleep, houses darkened. The barking of dogs could be heard in the distance, but the night was otherwise silent.

Seeing nothing of interest, Uther turned to the wall and approached it slowly, tenderly. The portrait of his late wife, Ygraine, smiled softly back at him. Her blonde hair and kind blue eyes were perfectly captivated by the court painter. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and so lifelike that many a time Uther reached out to touch her, only to meet the rough texture of the canvas.

Uther removed the portrait from its place on the wall and went to sit on the plush red couch before the fireplace. Often he did this when he couldn't sleep, or when his grief began to gnaw at him again. He did not cry, but his heart bled.

He turned from Ygraine's painting to stare listlessly into the dancing flames.

Dancing.

The orange flames kicked and twisted, twirling around and around, much like the Druid girl had. Uther absently reached into his pocket and pulled out a starry handkerchief. It smelled of the Druid girl, smelled of her sweet hair -

Uther shook himself abruptly, dropping the cloth as though it burned and clutching at his wife's portrait. His hands shook, and his breaths came in heaving gasps. Ygraine only watched him kindly, lovingly.

The Druid girl, Guinevere.

It was her fault. Her fault that he was thinking such impure thoughts, imagining her beneath him as he ravaged her sultry form. Wishing she were lying in his bed where Ygraine once was.

Her fault.

A knock at the door broke the king out of his reverie. The door opened without his permission, and a knight entered, looking exceedingly nervous. "King Uther," he said. "The Druid girl has escaped."

"What?" Uther hissed, narrowing his eyes as he stood.

"She's nowhere in the cathedral...She's gone."

"But, how? I...Never mind," he snapped, jerking his arm at him. "Get out, you idiot." The knight quickly retreated. "I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Camelot!"

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

The mantra continued as Uther glared into nothingness. Then his crazed eyes shifted to the painting.

Her fault.

If she hadn't died, then Uther would never have been put in this position. He glared bitterly at the kindness in Ygraine's eyes. It was her fault. She held him back. She silently judged him, mocked him, each and every night as he slept.

She died, and took his unborn son with her, only to spite him.

Well, no more.

Uther stood, the firelight reflecting in his eyes eerily. Then, with a guttural roar, the wayward king brought his knee up and slammed the picture down, snapping the frame in two. Despite this abuse, Ygraine continued to smile lovingly.

It only enraged Uther further.

He threw the portrait, his only memorabilia of his love, into the flames. The fire immediately began to eat away at the blonde hair, the white skin, the pink lips, the blue eyes. As Ygraine slowly turned to ash, Uther watched unwaveringly, lips twisted in a feral snarl. The flames danced, and danced, and danced on Ygraine's pyre.

The flames of Guinevere danced.