Merlin: Witness
by mirwalker
CHAPTER FOUR
"Gwen woke me when Lady Morgana relieved her at Arthur's side, no thanks to you," Gaius volunteered crossly as Merlin tried to slip quietly back into their quarters. "Where have you been? Slunk off for your nap in some hidden corner?"
"No. I-" the wrongly accused began.
"You can make up your story on your own time later; but you'll make it up to me now," he was cut off. "I need your help now to apply this salve and fresh dressings to Arthur's wounds. But first, you need to stop by the kitchens and bring a slightly warm broth so we can get some nourishment into him."
The renewed vigor from his mentor returned some hope and happiness to Merlin, even if this wasn't how he'd planned to engage once Gaius woke.
"Well?"
"Well… I actually had a question-"
"Earn your answers with some work. You'd best be at Arthur's side with that broth when I arrive."
Apparently the only person not to have slept recently, Merlin was soon sprinting in the opposite direction, as Gaius donned his brimming bag, and headed up to the royal chambers.
His quick and careful roundtrip with a small pot of broth was nonetheless slight faster than the older man's one-way climb; and Merlin caught up to him in the hallway outside Arthur's room. "Gaius!"
"Shhh!" he was chided by the startled physician.
"I thought we wanted him to wake?" the young man reminded with a winning grin.
The raised eyebrow conceded no point; but the lack of response did.
"Before we go in, I've earned an answer," Merlin persisted. Taking the sigh as his brief opportunity, he jumped to his point ahead of any further interruption, "The voice in Arthur's room, you've heard it too, haven't you? In Arthur's room? Around him at other times? You've heard things not even Arthur himself could?"
Gaius looked irritated, and a little confused by the return of this subject; but again, he didn't deny the charge.
Merlin pressed on. "The night Arthur was born, and Queen Ygraine died, were there any other deaths that day in Camelot? Any… children?"
The gruff irritation, the sleep-restored energy, and the color all drained immediately from Gaius' face. "What do you know of that day?" he gasped.
Suddenly not sure whether the older man would stay upright on his own, Merlin led him to a bench nearby. "I think it's connected to the presence I'd mentioned earlier… A baby boy, born and dying about the same time as Arthur… 'bound' to him in some way…"
Gaius seemed shocked and lost in memory as Merlin shared his hypothesis. His shoulders sank and he trembled, as he whispered, "There was a couple in the town—good people, expecting their first child at the same time as the king and queen. Such joy in both families… Unlike the queen's, though, theirs had been an easy pregnancy. But when that wonderful, awful night came, they sent word to me that there were problems for them as well, asking for help; but I couldn't leave the queen. By the time all was done here, and despite not having slept for days, I went to them; but it was too late. The little boy had cried out and gone more quickly than he'd come."
His cheeks streaked with a guilt and regret still fresh after nearly two decades. "If I'd only been able to be there, perhaps…"
Merlin took the shaking hands in his, instantly sorry that he'd pushed so strongly for what he thought would be a simple, factual yes or no. He hadn't expected the probable pain to involve, much less implicate, his friend and teacher. "There was nothing you could have done, Gaius, no way-" he tried to console.
"No 'nothing'," the healer barked, a fire returning to his face and voice. But it wasn't directed at the young man beside him; rather, at the younger man inside him. "No, I couldn't help them both; I had to choose… So, I chose the royal family over them, valued Arthur over that poor boy. And still the queen died. And still I haven't been able to look his parents in the eye. And still his cries—murmurs of him—have haunted me."
So Gaius had heard the mirror prince if not immediately, then in the days and years since. He had connected the invisible sounds to the baby lost the night of Arthur's birth; but he hadn't understood them to be more than echoes in his own guilty conscience. Not that such remorse wasn't real or heavy enough.
Merlin wondered whether he could shed a little light on the real, if intangible source of the lingering memento of an impossible decision. "I think that's the presence I've sensed in Arthur's room –only he's now a man about Arthur's age, caught here by the king's powerful desire for a child."
Gaius' sorrow turned to terror, as he realized, "He would have every reason to be vengefully angry, Merlin. Such wronged spirits…"
"Actually I haven't sensed that from him at all. I don't think he understands what's happened to him; but he is concerned for Arthur."
As if on cue, the both heard a low, slow, soothing song drift out from the bedroom where only the unconscious Arthur and his cousin-become-sister were. Clearly sad, not angry, the tune pointed out how very real and near this additional concern was.
"Still," a doubly nervous Gaius lamented, taking no great relief in knowing this additional, enduring consequence for his dilemma'd decision that night years ago. "He can't know peace unless he understands, and can resolve the wrong against him." He looked to Merlin with a newfound distress, "But how can I make it right with him when Arthur again requires my focus? Short of my words, what can I do that won't simply repeat the slight that cursed him in the first place?"
Now concerned for his father figure, beyond the strange man in the mirror, and beyond his friend and master, Merlin knew he needed to do something to help them all. But how to bring peace to Fleck, absolution to Gaius, and health to Arthur? Never mind, some much needed sleep for himself…
What to do? They were doing everything they could for Arthur. Gaius couldn't undo his decisions of years before. And Fleck hadn't actually asked for help. Perhaps if Arthur died, Fleck would be free? No, that wasn't an acceptable option; and for all his vagaries, the Dragon had always been quite clear Merlin was to keep him alive. In fact, the only thing new that Camelot's largest resident had added to that certainty was that Fleck's fate was bound to Arthur's, and that both were worthy of any parents' pride.
And Uther's feelings about this situation needn't be asked—magic was evil; saving his son was required; and anyone practicing the first or failing at the second would suffer. Who knew what Fleck's parents would feel… Fleck's parents!
"Gaius? Merlin?" asked Gwen, as she turned the corner up the corridor. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes," answered Merlin, quickly rising to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
Indicating the tray she carried, she answered his unexpected challenge, "Morgana's meal is ready; I've brought it to her so she can remain with Arthur… Are you sure everything is alright?" She clearly saw the remnants of Gaius' anguish, but didn't want to add any embarrassment by pointing it out too directly.
"Ah yes," Gaius tried to smile reassuringly, gathering his things and standing.
Merlin took Gaius' arm and helped him up, casually asking, "Gaius, the… couple we were discussing earlier, from when Arthur was born. Are they still around? What do they do?"
Both his friends gave Merlin an odd look, at his seemingly random question.
"What? Well, let's see. The mother died some years ago. But the father, Til, is still in the town, an able stoneworker."(1)
"That's just wonderful," grinned Merlin as he led them all into Arthur's room. "So good to hear. Ah, Lady Morgana," he nodded, as he worked to set them all in place. "Gwen has brought you lunch. And Gaius will have a look see at how Arthur's doing. And I, I am going to…" He looked around the room frantically, as if trying to come up with something to occupy himself, while the three others just gawked at his usual, unusual behavior.
"Merlin, what is going on?" asked a voice that caused only Gaius to react. "What's happened?"
"Nothing. I'm doing nothing," Merlin narrated as he continued to glance about. The window! "Except opening up a window to get us all a little fresh air." He stepped up to the well-maintained hinge, and began fiddling with the latch. "Oh, look at that; it's stuck." Confident the others couldn't see, whatever they might be thinking of his focused obsession, he whispered quietly, "Tócín stán."(2)
With a satisfying 'snap,' a chunk of the window masonry broke off in his hand; and he stifled a smile as he turned to show the unfortunate damage. "Oops! Clumsy me. Guess I don't know my strength."
Several voices asked simultaneously, "Merlin, what are you doing?" "Why did you just do that?" "Have you gone mad?"
Only Gaius looked around with more nervousness than confusion.
"It'll be dark soon, and getting cooler," Merlin narrated, as he fumbled with the loose rock in his hand as he bounded for the door. "Can't have Arthur catching a chill as well. So, I'll just run down to the town, and fetch a mason to patch this up quickly. Won't be more than a few minutes."
"Merlin?!" shouted four voices as he disappeared into the hallway.
Three people exchanged puzzled glances, as waning sunlight played off the large mirror on the wall, and other shiny surfaces around the room.
"Sometimes, I really worry about that boy," confided the puzzled Morgana, as they all continued to stare after the quick-departed page.
"Really? I usually worry more about us…," Gaius shared honestly, knowing it wouldn't exactly reassure them. Even more honestly, he glanced about, hoping the room's other occupant hadn't been at play in the young wizard's sudden exit, and /or didn't plan to use his absence to their misfortune.
"My lady, if I may suggest you take your meal at the table. I'll ask Gwen to assist to me in seeing to Arthur's bandages…" Best to remain in numbers, until—and if Merlin returned as promised.
NOTES
1. The name is Old English for "good man" (good, apt, suitable, useful, profitable, excellent, brave, abounding).
2. The command "splinter stone." Tócínan: to break into chinks, split open, cleave asunder, splinter, crack.