THE WATER WITCH AND THE BLACK DOGS
By TIPPER

…

CHAPTER SIX: THIERNAN

Gwaine had learned a long time ago the necessity of adaptability. The fact that Prince Thiernan was suddenly no longer missing wasn't about to distract him from protecting his sister from an obvious threat. Once he understood what was happening, he was knocking Thiernan's sword down and pulling his own, taking up position in front of Clara, ready to defend her if he needed to.

And from the looks of things, he'd need to. Thiernan was not a small man—like his father, the prince was tall, a good half a foot taller than Gwaine and Clara both. He was obviously older than Gwaine remembered him as a child—the slicked back blond hair was now loose and silvered with gray, and the thick eyebrows were bushy to the point of ridiculous. But though his blue eyes were more sunken, and his face more lined, he wasn't ugly—never had been. One thing that was the same was that, unlike his father, he still favored being clean-shaven, his square jaw so sharp it looked like it could cut glass. He lifted it now, thin pale lips curling into a smirk as he looked at the siblings.

"Thiernan," Clara whispered in clear terror, backing up a step. "You're supposed to be lying low in the caverns while Arthur was here. I thought—"

"That I wouldn't find out?" Thiernan turned his attention to Gwaine, and his smirk darkened. "Been a long time, Gwaine. You learn how to use that yet? Last time I saw you, you were still playing with wooden ones."

Gwaine shifted the metal in his hand. "I might have," he replied, straightening his shoulders under his red Camelot cape. "Want to try me?"

Thiernan waved a hand. "I would, but I don't feel like giving lessons at the moment."

Gwaine smiled at that. "Oh, who knows, it's always nice to learn a new thing or two."

"Thiernan," Clara said, pushing a hand against Gwaine's arm. "Please, he's just being Gwaine. He's as much a child as he ever was. He doesn't know what he's saying. You don't have to—"

"Oh, never fear, my love," Thiernan said, turning dark eyes to his wife. "I have no intention of harming your brother. Although, you must also know that I can't let him go."

"But…But I didn't tell him—"

"But you were about to. And not just him. You think I don't know what's going on in my outer battlements?" Thiernan looked over his shoulder. "Hildy?"

Clara's mouth dropped as the physician was shoved into the room along with the serving girl that had led Gwaine to this room. Both looked mildly ashamed.

"I am sorry, my lady," Hildy said, lowering her head, "but we had to. You know we did."

Clara pressed her lips together, disappointment clear on her face. "I thought we agreed—"

"The risk was too great."

Clara exhaled heavily, and straightened. "Well, it's too late. King Arthur already knows your plan." Gwaine stilled his face so as not to give away her lie. "He's going to tell your father, and you're not going to be able to stop him. And Arthur knows Gwaine's in here. If he doesn't return, Arthur will come in after him, and he has a good dozen healthy soldiers out there. You may as well just let him go and call off this whole foolish thing."

"You haven't told the king anything," Thiernan said, lowering his voice. "And your brother isn't leaving."

"You don't know me very well," Gwaine said. "Because I will fight my way out of here. You think your men can stop me?"

"I'm sure they can, but I don't need to." He snapped his fingers, and a larger, scar-faced man pushed into the room with a sandy haired little boy in tow, a harsh grip on his arm. Gwaine gasped—the resemblance to their little brother Gaheris was extraordinary. The scarred man swung the boy in front of him and pressed a blade to his throat.

"No!" Clara screamed, lurching forward only to be stopped by Gwaine.

"Don't!" he begged Theirnan.

"Mother?" Gregory pleaded softly, his eyes wide and streaming tears. "What's going on?"

"How could you?" Clara shouted. "He's your son! Your own son!"

"Clearly, Clarissant, fear for your own safety is not enough, you need more motivation to behave." Thiernan arched an eyebrow at Gwaine. "And as for you…" He smiled. "Even if you don't particularly care for your family, no true knight would allow the death of a child to be on his head. And that is exactly what will happen unless you do exactly as I say."

Gwaine swallowed thickly, anger coursing through him as he slowly lowered his sword to the ground.

…

…

Merlin knew something terrible had happened the moment Gwaine walked into the tower room. He had just finished helping Arthur with his armor, to prepare them for the rest of the journey to Bayard's castle, when the door opened and a stranger walked inside wearing his friend's face. The only time he had ever seen Gwaine so blank was that time with Lamia, and it had terrified him then. It terrified him even more now.

And then Gwaine asked to be left behind, and Merlin instantly knew it was a lie.

"I know it is not a normal request, Sire," Gwaine was saying, keeping his tone formal, his back straight as he looked at a point a little over Arthur's shoulder. "But I would appreciate it if you permitted me to stay here to become better acquainted with my sister." Merlin saw him glance at Hildy out of the corner of his eye when he finished, and she gave him a sad smile. The tiny snarl Gwaine flashed at her was not lost on Merlin. Two other castle servants were also in the room, and they seemed very intent on the conversation—more than normal. What the hell was going on?

Arthur's expression next to him was, to put it mildly, confused. Merlin's gaze narrowed, and Gwaine's eyes met his. He could almost see the plea in them. But what was he pleading for?

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who lifted his eyebrows but otherwise said nothing, before returning his attention to Gwaine.

"Far be it from me," the king said slowly, almost cautiously, "to get in the way of family." He frowned, and Gwaine mirrored it. Arthur lowered his eyes. "And I know a little of what it's like to want to reform one's relationship with a sister."

Arthur was taking his formality the wrong way, Merlin realized. He thought it was because Gwaine was trying to protect him from thinking about Morgana. But Merlin was certain that wasn't it.

"You have my permission," Arthur said, raising his gaze again. "Stay as long as you need. Obviously, we'll be stopping by here on the way back from Bayard's court to collect the others we're leaving behind to heal. I hope you will be able to join us again then."

Gwaine forced a smile. "Thank you, Sire."

Arthur frowned again at the "sire," but didn't say anything. When Gwaine turned his gaze downwards, Merlin knew he had to say something. He just didn't know what.

"Your majesty," he said quietly, "may I have a word?"

Arthur nodded, and the two of them moved to a quiet corner.

"Something is off," Merlin whispered, once they were out of earshot of Gwaine and the castle servants.

"I noticed, but what?"

"I don't know, but I don't think we should leave him on his own."

Arthur frowned, glancing at Gwaine before looking again at Merlin.

"What would you suggest? Stay with him, delay leaving?"

Merlin shook his head. "No. You can't delay the trip to see Bayard any longer. I know that. But maybe some men?"

Arthur winced slightly. "If I leave men behind, it might look like I don't trust Gwaine or his sister. Besides which, I'm already down eight men. The whole purpose of this was to offer our help to find Pieter and Thiernan. If I leave more behind, I won't have as many men to barter with when we do reach Bayard."

Not to mention, Merlin mused, leaving men behind would place Arthur at more risk of being attacked. With two princes kidnapped, Mercia was in a state of unrest; he didn't want Arthur in more danger than he already was.

"You're right," he said. "You need all your men with you."

Arthur was looking at Gwaine again. "Could it just be stress over his relationship with his sister? It may just be that he needs someone to talk to."

Merlin frowned, not disputing that. He looked at Gwaine again, and was surprised to see how open the man's face had become, as if he were hoping for something. But while Merlin was many things, a mind reader was not one of them. All he knew for certain was that Gwaine was in trouble and he needed help.

And, if he were being honest, he owed Gwaine more than just leaving a couple of Arthur's knights to back him up. All the times Gwaine had come to his rescue, how could he not return the favor?

"Let me stay," Merlin said, and Arthur's expression instantly hardened.

"What?"

"I'm his friend; he can talk to me. And I am also a servant—less noticeable. If there is more to this than the obvious, I can ferret it out. And if there is any danger, I will steal a horse and come find you, to call you back. It's only two day's hard ride to Bayard's castle from here."

Arthur stared at him a long moment, and Merlin knew it was because Arthur was balancing his need to have Merlin at his side, and Gwaine's need to have a friend with him.

But Arthur wouldn't look as vulnerable with one less servant, even if Merlin knew he would be. And, at this stage in the game, appearances were worth more than reality. Besides, with any luck, Merlin and Gwaine could be on their way to join him soon. He hated to leave Arthur on his own, especially with so many dangers out there, and going into Bayard's court alone, but…he owed Gwaine this.

Finally, Arthur sighed but nodded. "Alright," he said, "just try to follow as soon as possible."

Merlin gave a nod, and the two returned to the center of the tower room in which they were having this impromptu meeting.

"Sire?" Gwaine prompted.

"Don't worry, I haven't changed my mind," Arthur said, smiling. "Merlin has just reminded me that someone else also needs to stay behind to keep an eye on the rest of the men. He…" And Arthur hesitated a moment, before sighing and continuing. "He will also be staying behind, to give Hildy a hand."

Gwaine's expression fell, and Merlin tried not to frown at Gwaine's reaction.

"That's not necessary," the knight said quickly. "Sire, I can—"

"Gwaine," Arthur said, his tone short. "A word?"

Gwaine grimaced, but he stepped forward so Arthur could speak in his ear. Merlin took a courteous step back, but stayed within hearing.

"Merlin is staying behind because he's not fully recovered either," Arthur said quietly, and Merlin frowned slightly at the fact, even though it wasn't a lie. "He's still having trouble with his balance, more than usual, and I'd rather he be safe here than out there with me. In addition, he may have a point about what happened all those years ago. While I am certain Bayard would not recognize him…. I admit, it's probably safer not to bring him. And finally…" He looked at Gwaine out of the corner of his eye. "He said he thought you might need a friend more than I do right now. And I'm inclined to agree with him."

Gwaine bowed his head, eyes downcast.

"Thank you, Sire. I will do what I can to keep Merlin out of trouble."

Merlin frowned at the continued formality, but he vowed that he would do whatever he needed to do to keep Gwaine out of trouble.

…

…

Gwaine had rarely felt so trapped. Arthur had said that Merlin was his friend. It was precisely because Merlin was his friend that he didn't want him here, in danger. But he couldn't say that in the tower, couldn't even whisper it, or his nephew's life would have been forfeit.

But now Merlin would expect to hang out with Gwaine and that would put him in the same line of fire as Clara and the children. Elyan and other still healing knights would be safe, so long as he could keep them ignorant of what was happening, which wouldn't be too difficult with their injuries. They'd expect to be kept separate, away from the central keep. But Merlin would expect to go into the lion's den with him.

And he had no idea how to stop that from happening.

Still praying for some sort of miracle that would send Merlin away with Arthur, he stood side by side with him as the king and the others rode out. Clarissant stood on Gwaine's other side, her expression stony. Guards and servants—spies all, Gwaine presumed—backed them up.

"There goes hope," Clarissant said softly as the red capes disappeared over the ridge on the road. Gwaine gave her a pained look. She matched it with one of her own. "I am so sorry, brother," she said. "Whatever happened between us, I never meant or wanted—"

"I know," he said. On his other side, he felt Merlin's curiosity at overhearing that brief exchange.

"Merlin," Hildy said cheerfully, tapping his friend's arm. "Why don't you come with me to my chambers. I can show you my stores, and we can work out a plan to attend to the rest of your men."

Merlin smiled and nodded. "Of course, I just want to talk—"

"Go on, Merlin," Gwaine said. "I'd like a moment with my sister, if you don't mind."

Merlin gave him an examining look, but finally nodded. "Sure. I'll find you later?"

"I'll find you," Gwaine promised. "Don't come looking for me." Merlin's gaze narrowed slightly at that, and he stepped close enough to whisper in Gwaine's ear.

"I know something is wrong. I stayed so I can help."

Gwaine smiled tightly and whispered in return. "I don't want you to get involved. Just take care of the others. Promise me?"

Merlin snorted and backed away. Finally, he gave a shrug—the sort of shrug he always gives Arthur when he's planning something stupid, like spying. Gwaine shook his head, but Merlin just flashed an innocent smile and allowed himself to be led away by Hildy. Gwaine sighed heavily as soon as he was out of sight.

"Hildy will do what she can to protect him and the others," Clara said, a resigned exhaustion in her tone. "She may have given me up, but she's not evil. She'll keep him from finding out what's really going on if she can."

"What is going on?" Gwaine demanded then, turning to face her. "I think, at this point, I should probably know."

Clara nodded. "Follow me."

Gwaine noticed the other guards were all watching them, hands on their swords. "As if I have a choice," he muttered.

Feeling a little like a lamb to the slaughter, he followed his sister back through the gates and courtyard, climbing the stairs up to the keep and trying to learn as much about the layout (and potential escape routes) as possible. He wasn't sure exactly sure how long Thiernan was going to keep him alive, but damned if he wouldn't fight his way out if he got the chance.

Within moments, they were back in the Great Hall, but this time it was fully occupied by the prince and his mercenaries. Gregory was sitting in one of the window alcoves, legs bent to his chest and head buried in his knees. A little girl was sitting with him, pressed tightly to his side, and Gwaine could only guess that was his four-year-old niece Anne. She glanced at him as he passed by, but she didn't even seem to see him, too focused on holding onto her older brother. Clarissant had stumbled slightly upon seeing her children in the Hall, but she gripped her hands into fists and continued forward.

Thiernan was sitting at the head of the long table that graced the room, studying a handful of maps, and, as they got closer, he tossed one aside in favor of another. It didn't take a genius to see they were maps of Camelot – both of the kingdom and of the town. One looked like it was a map of the citadel itself.

So that was it. Thiernan was going to attack Camelot. The threat his sister was going to warn Arthur of was her husband.

To be honest, Gwaine was actually relieved. After fighting off immortal armies and Morgana, a small army of mercenaries led by a nutter like Theirnan was really not much of a threat.

"It's done," Clara said softly as she reached her husband's side. "King Arthur has left."

"How many did he leave behind, besides this one and the servant?" he asked, not looking up from his study. He shifted the papers to look at another map.

"Only five other men. They have all been moved to one room in the West Tower."

"Good. Make sure Hildy keeps them there after we leave."

She said nothing to that. Gwaine considered cutting Thiernan down right now. If he could get her attention, maybe he could signal Clara and the kids to get out of this room before-

"I was angry at first, Gwaine," Thiernan said suddenly, without preamble, "that my wife would try to take advantage of your reappearance in our lives to effect some sort of deal. As a consequence, I planned to kill you—making it look like an accident, of course, so as not to prematurely alarm your boy-king. But then…" He shrugged and looked up from the map at Gwaine. "I realized that I could use this to my advantage."

Gwaine frowned, crossing his arms. "And how would you do that, exactly?"

"You're going to help me."

Gwaine smirked. "Ah, that might be a problem. I'm not really inclined to help people I'd like to grind into dogmeat."

Thiernan chuckled. "We'll see." Thiernan tapped the map showing the whole of Arthur's kingdom. "See, I have a plan. While your King Arthur is distracted with my father, I'm going to take Camelot, and you're going to show me the best way in."

Gwaine snorted a laugh. "Yeah. That's happening. You know, you should really think about laying off the mead there. Perhaps think about clearing your head by jumping off a cliff or setting yourself on fire."

Thiernan just smiled. "Oh, I don't think it'll be that hard."

Gwaine looked at his sister. "Is he serious?"

Clara cast her eyes downward. Thiernan, meanwhile, stood up.

"Perfectly serious," the prince replied.

"Listen, crackpot, you try, you're going to fail. Miserably. After what we defeated in the past, I think we can take some pansy-ass prince with delusions of grandeur."

Thiernan hummed, smiling. "I'm sure. But we're still going to try, and I'll stand a better chance with your aid." Thiernan leaned against the table. "I could use some advice on how to attack Camelot-in particular, the Citadel. Information on weaknesses, areas of vulnerability, and, most importantly, best access to its water supply. You can tell me. You can also tell me how accurate these maps are."

Gwaine crossed his arms. "I assume, if I say no, you'll just threaten to kill your children again?"

"Actually-"

"GET AWAY FROM THEM!" Clarissant suddenly screamed, running to the two children sitting in the alcove. A tall figure in a black, hooded cloak was standing a few feet from them, but it backed up when Clarissant dove between it and them. Clara had pulled a dagger from somewhere and was pointing it at the figure. "You are not to touch them, you hear me?"

Thiernan sighed, straightening from his lean. "Peg, do as she says."

The figure turned to look at them, and Gwaine took an involuntary step back when he saw its face. The tall, thin woman looked a hairsbreadth away from death—her skin mottled and scarred, sores visible on her forehead and neck, and her nose half torn off. Her skin was a sallow green color, like dying algae, with long, dark green hair that hung in limp waves around her face like seaweed. Dark yellowish green eyes glanced off Gwaine to focus on Thiernan with a cold intensity. Her purple upper lip curled in obvious hatred as she looked at the prince.

"As you command, princeling," she croaked, her voice as coarse as sandpaper, sounding about as respectful as a cat to a rat. With an incline of her head, she backed away to go stand in a corner. The other men in the room gave her a wide berth. Gwaine shuddered slightly when she turned her dead eyes on him again, appraisingly this time—he had absolutely no idea what the creature was and he was fairly certain he didn't want to know.

Thiernan shook his head, and turned his attention back to Gwaine. "I'm afraid Peg has a thing for children. But, as you can see, I have no intention of letting her hurt mine."

Peg. What a normal name for a creature so foul. "No?" he challenged.

"Let me explain. What happened before was simply a ruse to force your hand, Gwaine. I would never have hurt my son."

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, not believing that for a moment. "You touch them, and I will kill you."

Thiernan gave a short laugh. "Might be hard to do with all these men around me," he gestured at the gathered mercenaries.

Gwaine grinned coldly. "Try me."

Thiernan cocked his head. "So certain you can win?"

Gwaine just shrugged, resting his hand on his sword. "Want to see?"

Thiernan's laugh dissolved into chuckles, and he gestured towards the doors. "Bring him in."

Gwaine's eyes narrowed, hand gripping his sword more tightly.

"Here's the thing, Gwaine," Thiernan said. "I'd rather not kill you if I don't have to. At least, not yet. I really do think you can help me achieve my aims more easily. To that end, you're going to accompany me on my quest to conquer Camelot, and, on the way, you'll inform me of the best means to bring it down. Now…" He rested a hand on his hip, as cool as can be. "I'm fully aware that you're not likely to want to help me once we're away from here. In fact, you're likely to try to escape in order to try to 'rescue' my wife and children. So, I'm going to need extra leverage over you while on the road."

Gwaine tried not to react—but he had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going.

"Since you now know I would not hurt my son, I had to go with something else. Or rather, someone else."

Gwaine felt sick. "You leave him out of this," he snarled. "He doesn't know anything."

Thiernan grinned. "Too late." He turned to the doors as two guards walked in, hauling Merlin between them, the servant's eyes wide with confusion. When he saw Thiernan, they widened even further in obvious shock. Thiernan shook his head as if dismayed.

"Foolish boy, he really shouldn't have asked to stay behind or called you friend in front of my guards." The prince shrugged. "Because if you don't help me," he added, "I'm going to have to kill him as well. And it won't be quickly."

"Blackguard!" Gwaine shouted, surging forward, his sword in his hand without even thinking. Thiernan backed up, and suddenly there was a wall of men between him and the prince, forcing Gwaine back. But he could beat them – he knew he could. This is what he was made for!

"Gwaine, stop!" Clara shouted from across the room as he clashed swords with these mercenaries. "Look to your friend!"

It was enough of a distraction for one of the mercenaries to force his sword down, but Gwaine would have dropped it anyway when he saw Merlin on his knees, a thin line of blood dripping from the knife at his throat, where the man holding him had already started to cut.

With a frustrated snarl, Gwaine let go the sword and raised his hands. The mercenary closest to him, the same man with a scar down half his face, snatched it up with a merciless grin.

"Take them to the caverns," Thiernan said then. "And get everything ready. We move out in an hour."

…

TBC…

I promise, it will all make sense in the next chapter…