Anybody Brave Enough to Take a Stand
Arthur pauses for a beat just to look at Merlin's face before he pushes open the doors to the Hall, where he knows Uther will be dining with Morgana, and the fear playing over the warlock's face makes him stop. He'd watched him hang back as they'd eventually left his bedroom and confronted Gaius, felt him stick so close behind the Prince as they strode down the corridors that they kept tripping over each other, and heard him draw a breath as they passed the first lot of guards.
He'd been scared then – now he's terrified. And Arthur can feel a sense of panic building up inside himself and pushes it back down, unsure of its origins, because he now has no need to fear his father.
"It'll be OK, Merlin," he says quietly, one hand on the door. "I won't let him hurt you."
"It's not me that I'm worried about," the warlock shoots back in a whisper, eyes darting all around himself, coming to rest eventually on the Prince when he doesn't get a response. His eyes harden. "I don't know what Uther will do to you when he finds out what you are. I don't know if I can protect you from your father and the guards."
And Arthur smiles then, marvels at Merlin's insistence on always putting him first, and wonders how he deserves this level of devotion from someone that he barely knows. He decides that this is something that he might have to get used to when he's King.
"Merlin, listen. We both have magic. In that room there will be my father, Morgana, and perhaps a handful of guards. If they try anything, we're more than a match for them, all right? Together, we'll be fine. But I need you to stay calm."
At some point, he's moved so that he's facing Merlin with his hands gripping the warlock's shoulders – he's not sure how he managed it without noticing, but it feels right, so he doesn't move.
"If you're sure…" Merlin murmurs, still sounding wary but accepting. Arthur nods, the dread that was rising now falling away, though he doesn't know where it came from in the first place.
"Let's get on with it then."
He lets go of Merlin and pushes the heavy doors open with both hands, striding straight into the room and he can feel Merlin right behind him. Uther is sat at the head of the table and beside him is Morgana, and she drops her knife as they walk in.
"But you're dead!" she blurts out then her hand flies to her mouth as Uther stands, his face darkening.
"What is this sorcery?" he growls, and the guards instinctively move towards them. Arthur stays them with a look, and earns himself a glare from the King.
"Arthur, how is this possible?" Morgana asks from where she's sat, her voice urgent, and he can't help but smirk at her – but he doesn't respond, because Uther gets in before him.
"This is clearly magic of the darkest sort!" he exclaims, pushing his chair away, and Arthur senses Merlin take a step back behind him. He reaches out and snags his hand in his manservant's tunic, keeping him close. "This is necromancy! Arthur, was it Nimueh? Tell me!"
"That's what I came to speak to you about, father," Arthur says converstionally, settling himself into his chair. Merlin sits next to him, and the Prince feels a spike of trepidation that he doesn't understand flicker through himself. "If you would care to sit?"
"What, exactly, did you come to tell me?" Uther replies, but sits anyway, and his tone is icy and already disapproving before he's even explained himself. Then he realises that he's not entirely sure how to explain it, just like with Merlin – but this time, he resorts to more practical methods.
His eyes flash gold and the goblet that Uther's holding is wrenched from his hand and soars over Morgana, whose own eyes are wide, rushing through the air to slam into Arthur's open hand. A few drops of wine spill over and drip down his fingers.
Uther's on his feet again and drawing his sword and Merlin's stood with his hand outstretched and ready and Arthur just sits there calmly, eyes fixed on his father, completely aware of Merlin behind him. Morgana's still not moved.
"Explain yourself," Uther hisses, sword wobbling slightly, and Arthur can feel Merlin's left hand resting gently on his shoulder. He drinks from the goblet and Uther's eyes narrow.
"When Merlin died, his power was transferred to me. When I brought him back to life, a portion was transferred back."
"You meant to tell me that your manservant has been a sorcerer all along?" the King spits and he takes a step forward, sword glinting.
He gets no further. Merlin has taken a step back and lowered his hand and there's that fear again, rippling under Arthur's skin, but he ignores him because the hand that's not holding the goblet is raised and keeping Uther away.
"Don't touch him," he says, a warning tone hiding just underneath his voice, and when Uther backs off he lowers his hand and his eyes fade back to blue. "And yes – he's been saving both me and Camelot since he arrived here."
"He's been corrupting you."
"He's been protecting me."
"I will not listen to this! Morgana, did you know of this?" the King snarls, lowering his sword and sheathing it, and Arthur looks over at Morgana. At least she doesn't look as shocked now, but she has that look about her – the one that passes over her face just before he insults her as they dance.
"Merlin being a sorcerer has crossed my mind once or twice before," she replies slowly, staring at Arthur, and he can't quite decipher the look in her eyes. "But… the times that made me suspicious were always when miracles happened."
"I beg your pardon?"
"When Lady Helene tried to kill Arthur, the beast in the water supply, the griffin, when you yourself fell ill? He's been protecting Arthur all this time."
Uther falls silent for a brief moment before looking up. His eyes are hard.
"Merlin is a sorcerer, and all magic is ultimately evil. We have a punishment for such crimes here in Camelot, and it will be served to him."
"It will not!" Arthur replies hotly, standing at last and facing his father.
"He will suffer the consequence of practising magic!"
"Then you'll need to be executing me as well."
And there – finally – he's shocked his father into silence. But then, hearing your son telling you to kill him would probably startle anybody. Arthur can feel a sense of triumph welling up within him and hears Merlin make a surprised noise behind him.
"You are no sorcerer," Uther hisses, and Morgana's even paler than usual and being far too quiet. "You are not going to be punished."
"I can do magic just the same as Merlin can," Arthur points out, and Merlin lays a hand on his shoulder. He sees Uther's eyes flick up to the point of contact but the King says nothing.
"Arthur, think about what you're saying," Morgana pleads, glancing at the guards, and Arthur can tell that they don't know what to do. They're torn between arresting the sorcerer and arresting the Prince.
"Arthur, be sensible," Uther says quietly, stepping around the table, and there may even be a hint of concern floating just under there. Arthur shakes his head and takes a step back, turning away and walking towards the door. Merlin is right beside him.
"It's a part of me, father," Arthur replies softly, pausing only to look back over his shoulder at the King. Uther is gripping his sword with one hand, and anyone else wouldn't notice it. "Don't make me an exception to the rule."
"I cannot execute you," Uther snaps in return, but despite his tone there's an underlying feeling of desperation. He is his father, after all. Arthur shrugs.
"Then change the law."
Neither Uther nor Morgana say anything more as they leave, and though he's glad, he knows that he'll have Morgana descend upon him soon with all her fury – but right now, he and Merlin are both fine, and he's happy enough with that.
"What's he going to do?" Merlin whispers, eyes wide and staring at the floor, and Arthur aches for the idiotic grin to return. This isn't how Merlin is supposed to be. He takes the warlock gently by the elbow and guides him down the corridor, towards Gaius' chambers.
"Don't worry, Merlin. I know what my father will choose," he says, trying to reassure his manservant. His fingers brush Merlin's as they walk side by side and there's a flood of warmth from the contact, magic spreading across their skin.
Arthur hopes that he's right.
Shining like a diamond, rolling with the dice,
Standing on the ledge I'll show the wind how to fly