Lady of Magic
Chapter Two
She looked small.
Merlin had never really lacked for height. As a manservant, Arthur always teased about muscles, bulk, strength, and generally being a girl, but Merlin had always been tall and height could make up for a lot of things.
Arthur had actually grown a little bit himself, but not sufficiently to justify why she seemed so small and fragile, standing next to Gwaine and looking around with a tired defiance, her eyes bright and angry and yet tearful at the same time. With long hair, she did make for an exotic creature, even if she was not quite like Morgana. She was dressed in a plain dress with a clean apron and a head scarf, but there was something deer-like about her, with her large eyes and long limbs. There was no doubt that Merlin was a sorceress and not a mere damsel, but she did have a frailty about her, like her body was more delicate than the raging, weeping spirit residing in it.
She was breathtaking. Heartbreakingly so.
"We better make this quick," She said flatly, in a voice that Arthur could not recognize at all; his manservant never spoke like that. Merlin had always been sweet, just...sweet. This woman was sharp and biting, as hard as a shrew. Odd that she looked so vulnerable at the same time. "I have patients who are scheduled back for checkups and I don't want to keep them waiting. What's that?" She suddenly asked Roskin, "Open your eyes for me again?"
"Uh..."
It irked Arthur, to realize she was not even going to acknowledge him, but at the same time he noticed how she grazed her lip with her teeth, how she wrung her hands slightly and seemed to avoid looking at him. She was aware of him, and scared. This was how Merlin always behaved when nervous and scared and trying to hide it. At least he knew that much about his manservant.
He was just not use to how acidic she had become.
"They were always this big," Said Roskin with a dismayed expression, "I never paid it any mind."
"Well, you don't have other symptoms," Merlin turned away. "When do we leave?"
"Now," Arthur replied, wanting her to slow down. "We have a long journey ahead. The horses are waiting outside."
"Good," Merlin lifted her bag, but Gwaine took it from her. "Watch the flasks," She snapped at him.
"I won't break your precious flasks, Merlin," Gwaine sighed.
"See that you don't." She whirled around and headed out.
The other knights glanced at Arthur, who followed her slowly. He had envisioned many ways this reunion could have happened, but he always thought Merlin would be shy, perhaps nervous, yet ultimately yielding. Not this sardonic, almost bitter woman.
He had been King long enough to recognize that all of this was a front, though, because the important thing was...
She came.
He still wished she could slow down though. He wanted to talk to her, and it was impossible to talk to anyone like this.
"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Merlin whirled around to froth at him when she reached the horses, "I'm not your manservant anymore, Arthur. If you think I'm going to run behind you—" Behind her were four horses, "Then you can go face Morgana on your own—"
The sight of her, angry and fiery, was beautiful to behold. That did not mean Arthur's own blood could not boil. It had been years since he had to put up with such audacity.
"You're riding with me," He said sternly. "No one is making you run. Unless you prefer it."
"Oh this is preposterous," Merlin swept past him to grab at Gwaine, "I'm not doing this."
"Merlin," Gwaine moved so she could not reach for her bag, "Please, it's not like there are spare horses in this town in the middle of nowhere."
"Well I'm not riding with him."
"Ride with Gwaine then," Arthur said, annoyed.
"Come on, lass," Gwaine pleaded, "We're not trying to offend you, truly."
"Stop calling me that," Merlin huffed. "Which one is yours?"
She swung on by herself even when Roskin offered to help her as he would any lady. When Gwaine mounted behind her, Arthur felt a brief flash of jealousy at the sight of the two together, but Merlin looked so openly annoyed, and Gwaine was distraught, there was hardly any chemistry between them.
He swung onto his own horse and the other knights followed suit.
"Where is she?" Arthur demanded.
"She's gone."
"I tried to stop her," Gaius said wearily, "But she panicked."
"You should have sent someone straight to me when she was packing!"
"She didn't pack, Arthur."
He slammed the wall angrily before turning to the guards. "Find her! She can't have gotten far!" He hoped that was true, because he had no idea if Merlin, with secrets out in the open, might choose to use magic to hasten the journey somehow.
For crying out loud, that idiot—it was just unbelievable. What was Merlin thinking?
"Why did she run?"
"She was afraid, Sire."
"Of what? That..." He shook his head, "I thought Merlin knew me better than that! That imbecile! And just newly recovered! When they find her I'll have her thrown to the—" The where? The dungeons? The stocks? "They better find that idiot sorcerer—ess, or else!"
They did not.
"She's...different," Gwaine said awkwardly later that night when they made camp. Arthur had offered Merlin his tent since there were only four, but Merlin proceeded to baffle all of them by turning into a...merlin, and fluttered into the treetops to roost. It made Arthur wonder how many times she had changed into the mice in his room while he was changing. He doubted she ever did such a thing, though. Merlin hardly needed to change into animals to see him shirtless, and she simply did not seem to be the kind of person to spy on other people.
"I can see that," Arthur said with annoyance. "I'm not a fool."
"I did not mean that, Sire," The knight was chagrined, "I don't know. She's changed a lot. And her home...there's no one else. No husband, either."
Arthur scowled, not sure how he felt about that, precisely. On one hand, part of him felt inexplicably relieved. On the other...who would not want Merlin?
"I thought we were better friends than that," He said numbly, "I've lost my temper around her before. She always took it in a stride. I don't know what made that time so different that she felt like she had to run away. I guess...she never really saw me as a friend after all."
"It's not prudent for servants to be too comfortable around their masters, Sire," Gwaine reminded him, "And Merlin...those secrets were especially frightening for her. She must have been dreading your reaction for years."
Of course she had. The fool girl. How often Arthur had wished he could turn back time and do it all over again. This time he would swallow his incredulity and listen to her, instead of kicking her out so callously, when she had nearly died saving his life, no less. He still remembered her expression, the tears collecting on her long eyelashes, so strange because she sported that boyish haircut while wearing servant dress. She had been too frightened to even truly cry.
"She was never just a servant to me," He shook his head.
The fool girl and the fool King.
"I need you to help me find her."
The druids glanced at one another. At the center was a familiar-looking boy, a teenager in the midst of a growth spurt with pale blue eyes like Merlin's and dark black hair.
"You call her Merlin," Said the boy.
Annoyed, Arthur gritted his teeth, "That is how she introduced herself to me. Don't tell me she lied about that too."
"She did not," Said the boy. "That is her name, to those who do not know her well."
That hurt, but Arthur ignored it. When he got that idiot back, he was going to have her answer everything, without the threat of whatever she thought he might do, just so they were clear. "Do you know where she is?"
"She is gone," Said the boy, "We cannot help you."
"Cannot, or will not?" Arthur narrowed his eyes, and suddenly he recalled why the boy looked so familiar. "I saved your life, once," He murmured, "At the very least you can help me find her. I don't intend to harm her. I just...wanted to talk."
"So you may chain her back to the destiny she had," Said the boy, "A destiny where she is willing to murder children for your sake."
...What?
"For your kingdom, for your life, she was willing to take mine," The boy walked up to him, "She was willing to take the life of my true savior, the one who always stood by me. And now, you have betrayed her, and she lets go of that destiny. Why should I help you?" He reached out with a hand, and Arthur felt something seize in his chest, "Without her here, there is no one to protect you, no one to shield you from my wrath!"
By morning, Merlin's temper seemed to have wore itself out, and she just looked really tired sitting on Gwaine's horse. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she had not slept well, and she occasionally leaned against the horse or rubbed her forehead as if to massage away a headache.
"You seem to have dealt with Morgana sufficiently," She muttered, "She came by my clinic about two years ago. Some fool was with her."
"You actually let her go?" Arthur exclaimed.
"Why not? I'm a healer, not an executioner," Merlin glared at him defiantly. "I don't let things like that bias me."
"I'm surprised she didn't bring your place down," Lancelot murmured.
"She wouldn't dare," Said Merlin, "She knows who's the better of us two. The name Emrys preceded me and she'd be suicidal if she tried me. She did try to recruit me to her side though."
Emrys. He had heard of the Healer Emrys. "You are Emrys?"
She looked at him coolly. "Yes?"
Arthur cursed mentally. She had been Emrys the whole time? "Why didn't you come back?" Gwaine tensed, and the other knights drew up a little as the atmosphere grew even more awkward.
"I made myself a new life," Merlin replied.
"No you didn't," Arthur exclaimed.
She drew the reins so the horse stopped. "What do you know about my life, Arthur?" She snarled.
He stopped too, realizing he made a mistake. "I know you are unhappy."
"Why? You think the only way I can be happy is if I were shining your boots?"
"That's not what I meant—"
"You're an idiot," She announced, and there was no trace of humor in her tones. "You are just so full of yourself. It's unbelievable."
"I looked for you!" Arthur exploded, and the horses nickered in alarm, "I searched for you for years! I sent word out to all the lands but you never bothered listening, did you? And when Camelot was attacked—"
"What?"
At least she still cared, it seemed. "Camelot was attacked, multiple times. It was only under the promise that I will bring Emrys back that the druids agreed to help."
"Who attacked? Morgana?"
"And that druid boy."
"Mordred," Merlin groaned. "Maybe I'll go pay him a visit and remove his worthless behind from Albion forever. He won't ever forget this, ha! I won't! The audacity of these people—he can go trade stories with Nimueh about how he shouldn't have crossed me!" She seemed genuinely enraged, and it was actually frightening to see this side of her.
It was like he did not know Merlin anymore.
Had he ever?
But she was furious about how Camelot was attacked, and that was somewhat encouraging. Arthur had no idea how he would talk to her if she were truly completely apathetic.
"So what is this with the court magician here in Griton?" She then went on, still looking angry, "Phineas was always a cocksure knave. He was a simpering sycophant, kept trying to get me to marry him." The way her face twisted in disgust made Arthur feel something he could not describe. "King Berius is no better. It took ages for me to get them to finally leave me and my clinic alone. I can't believe you attempted to settle any treaty with the likes of those two. Did you really not see that one coming?"
"Politics," Arthur said quietly, wondering what Merlin had to put up with out here, all by herself. Was she ever hurt? She had some of the behavior of a wounded beast, irritated and vulnerable all at once. "Did they bother you a lot?"
"At first they did," She was still scowling at the memory, "Terrified my patients. I turned Phineas into a newt and had Berius carry him back. Berius tried to arrest me, but I did away with his knights easily. As if a bunch of sword-wielding knights could ever hope to best me," She glared at the horse, "But that taught them a lesson, at least, and my patients could come in peace."
It was hard to reconcile the idea that Merlin was strong in magic back when she first left Camelot and all Arthur had to go on was word-of-mouth. It seemed like everyone knew Merlin was strong in magic except Arthur; all the druids referred to her with either honest awe or reluctant reverence, but all Arthur had was memories of Merlin's lopsided, cheeky grin and awkwardness with girls, and that just seemed the opposite of what a powerful sorcerer—sorceress, should be.
Seeing her now made everything far more believable.
"How easy would it be for you to best Morgana?" Arthur asked. There was that part of him that wondered, despite what everyone told him, if he was dragging Merlin into a lethal situation. He was so used to protecting his manservant because Merlin had been just hopeless on the battlefield, and what if he was making a mistaking and risking her life now?
"Not easy," Merlin wrinkled her nose, "And Morgana's had some time to practice her magic, but I am a creature of the Old Religion and she's not," She glanced at Arthur, "Doesn't mean you shouldn't watch your back. Still, I killed Nimueh with less effort than I thought I would, and she's definitely more practiced than Morgana."
It took Arthur a moment to recover his wits. "You killed Nimueh?"
"What did you think happened to her?"
Arthur was not sure, but he did not think Merlin could..."What else did you do?" He asked as carelessly as possible.
Merlin seemed to realize he was fishing for answers though. "I cleaned your armor," She said flatly. "What does it matter?"
"It matters to me."
"Contrary to what you may think, what you care about actually matters little to me." She turned away from him, a clear dismissal.
Once upon a time, when Arthur had been more impulsive and reckless, he would have let that comment get to him.
"I'm sorry," He began, "About how I reacted—"
"I don't care," Merlin snapped, kicking her horse into a trot. Gwaine glanced back helplessly at him, and it was almost laughable how the two of them looked, a knight was being dragged around by a frail damsel.
"She cares," Lancelot said lowly as they charged ahead of the group, "She's avoiding you, Your Majesty."
"I know," Arthur said solemnly.
"She had us all fooled, Arthur," Gwen said to him in that calm voice of hers. "She was...brilliant."
Arthur was still appalled. "There were things I did that I would only do in front of another man, good God Gwen,"
"She probably felt just as awkward."
"I pummeled her in practice."
"She knew what she was getting into."
"And she was just going to keep on charging into battle with me."
"She had magic, Arthur," Gwen reminded him gently.
"I'll be laughingstock. We'll all be laughingstock."
"She's a sorceress. Sorceresses can trick people."
This was true, and Arthur was honestly not sure which one he found more incredulous, the fact that Merlin was a girl—no, come to think of it, that made so much sense, given her gentleness, her perchance for flowers and pretty things and her hopeless attempts at being masculine at all—or the fact that she was in fact a sorceress, and had thousands of opportunities to kill him, to maim him, to get back at him whenever he had mistreated her. Shine his boots, polish his armor, make his bed, good God the number of times Arthur had her thrown in the stocks, what if someone else had figured out she was a woman while she had been in a stocks? Yet through all of that abuse, nothing. No hint at all.
The idiot.
"It's possible the dragon might know," Said one of the druids. The druids had all been quiet about this, ever since they saved Arthur from Mordred's group. Some of them were looking in mirrors or otherwise minding their own business. Sorcerers, Arthur decided, were an odd lot.
And Merlin was one of them!
"She's the only one who can summon him," Said another druid.
"He may come, nonetheless. King Arthur's welfare is as much his concern as ours."
"He is a dragon. He cares little for the politics of Albion. So long as magic is allowed to run free, he does not care who is on the throne."
"Magic is not allowed to run free," Said another, "Only in Camelot. In other kingdoms, it is still repressed, and while they are repressed, so too shall the dragon's own power. We need her here, to help King Arthur unite Albion."
The druids were always talking about that, as if Arthur were some kind of conqueror. He was frankly getting sick of it, and wondered if this was what Merlin had to put up with all the time. There were several days when he—when she had been unusually cranky, as if someone had told her some bit of news that had been especially unfavorable.
"What's in it for Merlin?" Arthur demanded, as Gwen touched his arm soothingly. "What's in it for Merlin, to help me 'unite all of Albion'?" He had a hard time believing that anyone would do such a thing for free. There had to be a catch. Maybe Merlin had been playing him all along.
"Nothing we can tell," Said the druids, "We merely know what will happen, not how. Not even she can fight her own destiny. She will return."
"When?" Arthur was sick of all these empty reassurances too. Maybe his father banned all of magic because druids were so annoying. "That's all well and good, but I want to find her now."
"We have no power to find her if she does not want to be found," Said the druids, "Not unless destiny steps in."
"That idiot might break his—her neck while out there!" Arthur paced, shrugging Gwen's hand off. A girl! All out by herself! For crying out loud, he would not have even allowed—"She's out there by herself! And don't tell me that she's strong enough to defeat whatever is out there!" There were tons of ways Merlin could come back to him. She could come back maimed, blinded, otherwise disfigured, perhaps even just a mindless puppet that Arthur could control, and he could not stand the thought of any of that because to him Merlin was that stupid servant who never did any of the chores right and by God she was a girl, Merlin is a girl, Arthur had undressed in front of her and no wonder she kept turning away whenever he did because Oh My God—
"You know her better than any of us, Your Majesty," One of the druids pointed out, "For all our magic, we cannot defeat the powers of the heart. The one with the best chance of locating her is you."
And that was just ironic, because she had been the closest person to Arthur, had seen sides of him he had never let anyone else see, even Gwen, and yet with both Hunith and Gaius gone and Ealdor empty of answers, there was not a single thing he knew about Merlin, let alone where she would go if she were running away.
Camelot looked different, even from the distance, and Merlin narrowed her large blue eyes to consider the layout of the fort.
"You haven't been doing the maintenance as well as your father," She muttered.
"Looks like Morgana already added her vile touch to the place," Lancelot ignored her.
One of the windows flashed with magic, the colors evident even in the bright sunny day.
"Harlot," Merlin hissed, "I'll show her about using her magic like that."
She seemed ready for battle already, a tigress ready to spring. Arthur raised a hand to lay it against her arm, and she twitched like a startled deer.
"Be careful," He remarked.
"Like you care," She swung herself off the horse even though Gwaine was still on it behind her, "You brought me here, you clearly don't care what happens to me."
Arthur was getting sick of her attitude. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I happen to have thought of you as my best friend before you decided to take my words too close to heart. It seems that between the two of us, you're the one who doesn't care about me."
"You got that right," Merlin spat back already marching forward, and Arthur raised his hand to grab at his forehead before dismounting.
"Look," He raced up to her, grabbing her by the elbow, "You don't get to go ahead and do your thing without letting me know what you're up to. What's your plan?"
"Walk right in," Merlin smiled a terrifyingly dangerous smile, "It's not like she can stop me. For all we know, she knows I'm coming. She's a seer, in case you didn't know. Seers have premonitions."
"What about you?" He tightened his hold, "Do you have premonitions?"
"Let go of me." Her eyes began glowing gold.
"You don't," Arthur concluded, "Otherwise you would have known I was coming. That I'd show up at your clinic."
"What makes you think I didn't?" At least she was not casting any spells. Yet.
"Because," Arthur paused, "You're still getting over that shock. I can tell."
She jerked from his hold, nostrils flaring. "Don't presume you know anything about me, Arthur."
"I certainly won't," He stepped back, "Since the Merlin I thought I knew would never just run away from a problem. The Merlin I thought I knew was brave, selfless, caring—"
"I'm not listening to this."
"You nearly killed Morgana for Camelot, you made enemies for Camelot's sake. That's the Merlin I know!" Arthur cried out, "That Merlin would never abandon friends and disappear without a word—"
"That Merlin is dead," Merlin turned away, but she did not continue storming toward the castle. Instead, she seemed to think, and to struggle again with herself.
"I don't have anything to fear from Morgana," She finally said quietly, and it was difficult to tell whether it was because she were truly that powerful or if she simply did not care about getting killed.
"You still have patients at the clinic," Arthur reminded her, just in case it was the latter.
She smiled bitterly at him, and her eyes looked so wounded that she was hardly recognizable as the Merlin who was his manservant, long hair and in a dress and face cold from loneliness.
"Let's go save Camelot," She sneered, "Again."
She moved away from him like a fae in the forest, so that Arthur felt like a huge elephant in his armor, clunking behind her. Since when did she become so graceful? He shook his head and swallowed thickly, regretting every insult, every harsh word he had ever uttered to her. Maybe if he had been a kinder prince, less of a prat as she had always called him, Merlin would never have...
Never have run away.
It was too late now, though, and he could only follow her numbly as she went ahead toward the gates to the city.