Chapter 58: The Waiting Game
I. Five Hours into the Siege.
"I'm just asking; how did the Cup of Life manage to work for an entire army who have no idea what they even have?" Arthur asked. Dawn was creeping slowly over the sky, and the dim light in the Great Hall only exaggerated the dark circles under everyone's eyes, probably including his own as well.
At his right hand side was Guinevere. Arthur had told her to try and get some rest, but he doubted she had. On his other side was Morgana, who had spoken very little since their last conversation on the castle wall. Filling in some of the other seats around the Round Table were Lancelot, Tristan, Isolde, Elyan, Mithian, Kay, Sefa, and Gaius. Everyone else was still on the lookout on the walls, or, in Merlin's case, still resting.
"If I may, Sire," Gaius said. "They wouldn't have needed magic to unlock the Cup's immortality. All they would have needed would have been to drink, and an intention to gain what they knew the Cup could provide them with."
"Didn't Merlin need to enchant the Cup before giving it to me, though?" Arthur asked.
"Immortality is one thing, balancing the scales of life and death is another." Morgana answered. Arthur looked at her. She shrugged. "I've been reading too," she said. "To grant immortality is the Cup's default, so it doesn't need sorcery to achieve it."
"And nothing at all can kill them?" Mithian asked, her eyes intent.
"One thing." Morgana answered. Arthur turned to her in shock. Could it be possible that all hope wasn't lost then?
But Morgana's face was still grim. "And when I say one thing, I mean exactly that: one thing. Only one singular weapon can destroy them. The Cup is old magic, so it needs magic just as old to undo it. Magic like that found in a dragon's breath."
"My sword." Arthur said. At his side, Excalibur felt twice as heavy.
"Can't Merlin just ask Kilgharrah to do the same to our own swords?" Tristan asked. "Or make him, being a dragonlord and what not?"
"If memory serves me correct," Gaius said, "Kilgharrah was insistent that a sword burnished in his breath was meant for Arthur alone."
"But he can still make him, right?" asked Elyan.
"Not right now." Morgana said. She scanned the room with her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "What I'm about to say doesn't branch outside of the members of the Round Table. Ever since Merlin…Ever since what happened in the Perilous Lands, Merlin hasn't been able to use his magic. He says it feels like it's gone."
It was like the very air was sucked out of the room.
"Gone?" Lancelot repeated.
"When were you going to tell me this?" Arthur spoke quietly, doubting anyone across the table could hear him.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to." Morgana whispered back. Worry creased across her forehead. "Nothing like this has happened before."
Two new worries formed in Arthur's stomach. First, he worried for his friend; the loss of his magic was most likely causing him to remain unwell, afterall. He remembered how Merlin had often described his magic to him, as if it was a part of him, so intertwined with who he was that he often said it made him into the man he was. Arthur knew how it felt to lose something important to him, but he could only imagine the magnitude of it that Merlin was feeling now.
Secondly, more selfishly, he couldn't help but wonder: with Camelot's best line of defense down, how had the chances of their survival been diminished?
II. One Week into the Siege
"Why don't they just attack and be done with it?"
Percival leaned against the parapet, looking down at the army below, just out of range, not that it mattered all that much. Two days after their arrival they had moved into the now abandoned Lower Town to the south of the castle. Arthur had made no move to prevent it, choosing to spare the lives of his men and keep the castle walls as the primary, and now only line of defense. "I don't know," he said to Gwaine. "Do you really think that if they attacked now they could win?"
Gwaine turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "They can't be killed," he said simply. "I want to believe we can figure out a way to counteract the magic of the Cup of Life, but I'm thinking rationally here." After a moment, he added, "It keeps me from being too disappointed, you know?"
Percival nodded. A cold wind blew from the east, and he shivered. "I will say though," Percival said, "going down in a siege wasn't how I predicted I was going to go, if you had asked me two years ago."
Gwaine chuckled. "Likewise," he said. "I thought for certain it would be in some tavern brawl or another. That, or in the arms of a beautiful woman, though that one was more of a hope than a prediction."
Percival rolled his eyes and slapped his friend on the shoulder.
"What about you?" Gwaine asked.
Percival thought for a moment. "I don't know. I was a sword for hire, like you, so maybe going down that way. I always hoped I would be surrounded by family though, and in a way, I guess I am, so I can't complain too much. And at least it'll be for something I believe in."
Gwaine was quiet for a moment. Percival recalled Gwaine's past sensibilities on dying for nobility, and how Gwaine was now likely to die in a similar fashion to the way his father had.
"Dying for a free Camelot," was all Gwaine said. "There are plenty worse ways to die."
Percival nodded, and the two lapsed into silence.
Something to the east just inside the treeline caught his eye. Movement, and the flutter of a flock of birds as they took to the sky from the trees.
"What's that?" Gwaine echoed his thoughts.
Percival was about to reply when something broke from the treeline beyond the citadel. Then something else. And another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another, and another…
Ten catapults stood facing Camelot's northern wall, just out of range of even Morgana's magic.
"That's what they were waiting for, I suppose." Gwaine said.
III. Three Weeks into the Siege
BOOM!
Kara jumped as an explosion sounded just outside the wall. A quick glance out the window, and she could see the shattered remains of blasted rock falling to the ground below.
It had become a regular occurrence. The enemy would send large boulders or, occasionally, some type of non-magical fireball towards the walls of Camelot, which would be stopped by a rotating squadron of sorcerers from the druids or the Guild.
They were scattered on all sides of the castle, and, now that they had approximately thirty catapults, they would often fire at any time of the day or night with increasing frequency.
The Romans were smart enough, Kara soon realized, to keep their catapults just out of range of any of the sorcerers. With Merlin all but disappeared into his tower, the duty of organizing the sorcerers fell to Morgana.
Kara remembered the day the catapults had first appeared beyond the northern wall, back then there were only ten or so. Morgana had stood against the cold wind, and had blasted fireball after fireball of her own, then tried to split the earth to make the ground swallow the catapults down into it.
She had been up there for what seemed like hours, her dark hair coming undone from its braid and flying all about her stormy face.
When all was said and done, Morgana had taken three catapults down and left a marred and scorched earth beyond the walls.
And a perfect line that the Roman and Amatan army knew not to cross.
Kara climbed the stairs up to the battlements, pulling her cloak against the chill of the winter's last ditch effort to freeze the land.
On the wall stood Sefa and Iseldir, who both gave Kara a small nod of acknowledgement before Iseldir left the wall and went down the way Kara had come.
Kara moved to take his place. "How long have you been up here?"
"Long enough." Sefa replied.
Kara noticed the dark bags under the other woman's eyes. It was unsurprising. Not counting Kara and Mordred, who were given only one shift a day on account of their younger ages, there were only twelve sorcerers who were capable of stopping the near-constant assault on the castle walls. They had kept two to each of the four walls, all hours of the day. Eight on duty and four off duty was hardly a steady ratio, even with a little relief from herself and Mordred, and Morgana had scheduled it as best as anyone could, but Kara knew it wasn't enough.
"Incoming!" Sefa called.
"I got it!" Kara called back, bracing herself. A massive boulder came hurtling into view, aiming straight at the tower behind her. "Scildan!" Kara yelled, throwing the spell forwards and upwards.
Instead of the tower, the bounder crashed into Kara's shield spell, shattering on impact, and little pieces of rock fell to the floor close to her feet.
Kara looked to the side and saw Sefa give her a small smile, before her attention turned toward the stairwell once more.
Kara grinned as Mordred appeared on the wall. Mordred saw her and smiled back. "Take a rest now, Sefa," Mordred said. "Kara and I can take it from here."
Sefa rolled her eyes. "Keep focused, you two." She said, but didn't argue as she quickly disappeared back into the castle.
"Where have you been all day?" Kara asked, teasingly, but being mindful to keep her eye on the catapults below.
"Training." Mordred said, "With the knights."
"What use is that?" Kara said, "They can't be killed, remember?"
Mordred scuffed his boots against the floor. "I know that." he said, "But it's good to feel useful. Besides, when Kilgharrah shows back up, he can just breathe on all the swords and we can crush the bastards, no problem, they wouldn't even see it coming."
He spoke so confidently, even Kara wanted to believe him. Still the doubts ate at her; what if the dragon had disappeared for good, what if Merlin never came down from his tower? It was an open secret by now that his magic had somehow gone; what if it never came back? How much longer could they hold out while the enemy toyed with them like this? Their stores could get them to the end of this winter, but not beyond that. Spring would be upon them in a matter of weeks, what then?
Something occurred to her.
"Kara, look out!"
Kara jumped, and raised her eyes just in time to see a boulder hurling right at her get blown to bits by a fireball.
A pair of hands took her roughly by the shoulders and shook her. "What were you thinking?" Mordred yelled, "Kara, you could have been killed!" The same pair of arms pulled her close into a tight hug. Kara knew that if she looked into his eyes he would see the fear there.
"I'm sorry, I was thinking, and I thought of something and… Mordred, will you help me?"
Mordred pulled back and looked at her, utterly flabbergasted. He threw his arms up in the air. "I'd say I already helped you out enough for a lifetime today," he said, "what's one more favor at this point?"
Kara smiled.
"Wînbôh gengde hraðe hraðor." Kara and Mordred couched in the middle of the Banquet Hall. Around them were several camps of citizens non-magical and magical alike who had escaped into the citadel. Kara ignored the sound of a crying baby and instead focused on thinking about turnips.
Under her and Mordred's hands, a plant began to rapidly grow, cracking the stone underneath them to flourish in the combined light from the large windows and torches.
Kara sat back on her heels and laughed as a perfect turnip plant sat in the middle of the room in front of her.
Mordred smiled. "It's a start," he said. "What next?"
"We need beans. Kara said. "Carrots, onions, cabbage, peas-"
"Strawberries?" Mordred supplied with a grin on his face, no doubt remembering like her, when they had made a plant grow through the snow, what now seemed like a millions years ago.
"And strawberries." Kara added.
IV. Five Weeks into the Siege
The fact that he had run to Camelot to escape the combined forces of the Romans and Amata only to be caught up in a siege was not lost on Mithian.
When she killed Gaheris, she knew that her hardest battle was just beginning. She had prepared for unrest, assassination attempts, court intrigue, the like.
She never expected this.
Would Father feel as useless as I do now, she thought to herself. A pang hit her, as it always did when she thought of her father.
Mithian sat in front of her window outlooking the courtyard. Beyond it came the occasional sound of explosions as sorcerers defended the castle. It was getting worse, she thought, more frequent, and especially during the night. A cold draft came in from the window panes. Spring would come soon enough, she thought, and then what?
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in." She called.
The door opened tentatively and Kay stepped inside. He had taken back to wearing the red of a Camelot knight, which he had abandoned on the road. He looked good in it, she had to admit.
A part of her, selfishly, wondered how he would look in Nemeth green.
"You should keep your door locked, Mithian." he said.
"So you keep telling me," she said with a little smile. "But then I'd have to stop whatever it is I'm doing to open the door knowing full well it's you, checking in on me as you always do around this time."
Kay ducked his head, a smile playing on his lips.
"And if I didn't decide to check in on you?" He said.
"I think that would mean there were bigger problems than a potential stranger in my room." Mithian said. "Remember the time I saved your life?"
"Which time do you have in mind?" Kay said. "From your cousin, or from those bandits we ran into on the way here?"
"Both, I was testing you to make sure you remembered."
"The bandit didn't hit me over the head that hard." Kay replied. He was fully grinning now. The expression suited him, she thought.
Mithian slipped off the window sill and walked closer to him, suddenly conscious of the fact she was dressed for bed, in a borrowed blue dressing gown.
"Thank you." Mithian said. "I don't know if I've mentioned it before, how grateful I am. You didn't have to come with me to Nemeth, you didn't have to stay as long as you did, away from your friends. And you didn't have to risk your life to save mine and follow me again, into even more conflict and war."
The smile left Kay's face as he grew solemn. "Just doing my duty as a knight," he said.
"Is that all?" Mithian asked, her voice nearing a whisper.
Kay shook his head. His brown eyes were soothing and warm. She wanted to crawl into them, she wanted…
She raised her hand to his cheek.
Kay backed away. He bowed stiffly, suddenly terribly, horribly formal as Mithian's heart sank. "Princess." He said, speaking the title he hadn't in well over a month.
"Kay-" She started, reaching out again.
Kay shook his head. "It's better this way, Princess, if neither of us forgets who we are."
"That's ridiculous!" Mithian cried.
"When things go back to normal," Kay spoke hurriedly, "when this is all over, what then? I can't give you what you need-"
"How dare you tell me what I need-" Mithain cut in.
"You're still a Princess, heir to a throne." Kay continued. "I'm a knight and a knight of Camelot at that, not Nemeth, and up until a year and half ago I was a smuggler, in case you forgot that-"
"-I didn't."
"-And-"
"Listen to me!" Mithian spat, throwing her arms up in frustration. "What makes you so certain things will go back to how they were? We don't know anything and-"
A thundering boom shook the castle. Mithian jumped. As she ran to the window, shouting began from everywhere all around her.
There, the top of one of the walls to the south was left with a deep cut, a massive hole in the battlements.
One of the sorcerers had finally missed.
"I need to go." Kay spoke suddenly from over her shoulder.
Mithian whirled around and grabbed him as he started to leave.
Wordlessly, Kay looked down at her. She could see the questions in his eyes, but she didn't have the words for answers. She scarcely knew where to begin at all.
There were just two simple facts in her mind.
One: this was surely the beginning of the end.
And two: She didn't want to spend it alone.
Mithian stood on her toes and pulled Kay into a kiss.
It only took half a second for one of his arms to come up around her waist, holding her tight, and the other to twist in the dark hair at the back of her neck.
"And if I commanded you to stay?" Mithian gasped out as he left a trail of kisses down her neck and collarbone.
"You would have no need to."
Mithian grasped the sides of his face and kissed him again.
V. Seven Weeks into the Siege
The very air around him thundered.
Lancelot ran along the battlements, water in one hand and his crossbow in the other.
The latter wouldn't provide much use if the army decided to advance, but it might slow them down, and it was far better than being empty-handed; that would only go to highlight just how utterly useless he felt.
All he could do was provide water and his limited medical aid to the sorcerers on the wall. The catapults, of which there were now close to forty, had all consolidated to the eastern wall, and had been firing relentlessly for almost ten hours straight. So too, on the wall, were all eight of the sorcerers on duty.
In the middle of the wall ahead of him, he saw Arthur standing next to Morgana, who was maintaining a shield over a large stretch of the wall. They were yelling over the sound of the explosions, and as he came closer, Lancelot could make out pieces of their conversation.
"-hold out for!"
"However long it takes!"
"Realistically Morgana-!"
Arthur caught Lancelot's eye as he approached. The king reached out and grabbed Lancelot by the arm.
"When you reach the other end of the wall," Arthur yelled, "Find Elyan, tell him to remember the oath he made me!"
Lancelot nodded. He didn't know what Arthur fully meant, but he didn't have time to figure it out as he ran along down the wall.
He dove to the floor as a massive fireball three times his size crashed into the wall behind where he had just been standing. The wall cracked, but didn't crumble, and the fireball still blazed two paces away from him.
"Shit!"
Lancelot looked up to see Elaine, her hair pulled back from her face. She gestured to the fireball, and sent it hurtling back over the wall towards where it had come from. Lancelot watched, almost transfixed, and had to shake himself back to reality. It was hard to look at her still and to see her strong and walking and fighting, when he still couldn't get the image of her bleeding out in a boat floating down the river out of his mind, as if he half expected her to return to that state at a moment's notice.
Maybe that is why he had kept far away from her since his return from the Perilous Lands. She had been fully healed by then, afterall, and she clearly had very little desire to seek him out for a talk, not after their last conversation.
So he stayed at a distance, and she stayed at a distance, and nothing was ever said, which, in all honesty, only made Lancelot more confused as to why he kept looking for her brilliant red hair in every room he walked into.
The sorceress wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead. "Sir Lancelot," she said, straightening up.
Lancelot opened his mouth to reply, when he saw a great boulder hurtling through the sky.
"Forbaerne Ácwele!"
The boulder exploded against Elaine's fireball, the pieces raining down to the earth below.
"Thank you." Lancelot said.
"Consider us even," she swayed on her feet, unsteady.
"Hey," Reaching out, he held her steady by the shoulders. "Elaine, Elaine! Stay with me!"
"I'm fine," she said, even as she leaned on him for support. "I just… need a moment."
"You can have several, let's get you inside." Without another word, he bent down and picked Elaine up and carried her the rest of the way to the end of the wall and down the stairs, where he set her down.
Just inside the stairwell were Mordred and Kara.
"We need a replacement on the wall," said Lancelot.
Mordred stood. "I'll go," he volunteered.
"You just got back!" Kara objected.
"I'm less tired than you are, if you hate the idea of me up there so much, you can find someone else to replace me, but I'm going now."
Mordred quickly turned and ran up the stairs and onto the wall.
Kara huffed and made her way down the staircase, probably to do just as Mordred had suggested.
Lancelot had to smile. He sat next to Elaine on the stairs. As he poured her some water, he said. "Do those two know that they're mad for each other or are they still too young and stupid?"
"Young and stupid." Elaine said.
Lancelot smiled. "Recently I've been thinking that maybe those two aren't mutually exclusive," he said. "When I found you in that boat… I have never been more scared in my entire life. I regret the way that I pushed you away and-"
"It's fine, Sir Lancelot." Elaine said quickly. "It's in the past, and I've never been all that interested in the past."
"And the future?" He asked, "Where do you see me there?"
She gave him a wary look. "I told you before, and you didn't care to hear it, and I don't care to open old wounds."
"It isn't like that."
She raised her eyebrow, a challenge.
"At the Fisher King's castle, I met a sorceress, stuck inside a tree. She was a sort of test for me, each one of us had to pass their own. She told me that in exchange for helping her gain her freedom, I could have my heart's desire."
"And?"
"I didn't want it enough." Lancelot said. "It wasn't worth it. So I let her go."
"Simple as that?" said Elaine, she sounded far away.
"I wouldn't say simple, I won't deny I was tempted at first, and she did try to kill me."
Elaine laughed. Lancelot realized he wanted to listen to that sound every day for the rest of his life. He leaned in closer to her, but she shook her head.
"I won't be a consolation prize," she said. "I know I'm no queen, but I still have enough respect for myself."
"I never said you were." Lancelot said. "You're the one who wanted me first."
"And I was supposed to wait around and rejoice when you decided in my favor?" She put her hand on his cheek, but it wasn't like how he wanted. There was pity there, and a guarded expression on her face. "I need time."
Lancelot laughed. "Well it seems you have hours at the most, judging by what's going on out there."
Elaine gave him that knowing look of hers. "Our story does not end today," she said.
XXX
"How long can we hold out for!" Arthur yelled.
Morgana gritted her teeth as yet another boulder hit her shield. "However long it takes!"
"Realistically Morgana, I need to know!"
Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Lancelot approach. Arthur grabbed him and yelled, "When you reach the other end of the wall find Elyan, tell him to remember the oath he made me!" before releasing him.
"What oath did Elyan make you?" Morgana said.
"Don't worry about that!" Arthur yelled, "Focus on the shield."
"Don't tell me how to do magic, Arthur!" She turned to face him. "You don't trust me, you think this is the end, don't you?"
"I never said any of that!" Arthur yelled back.
"You don't have to, ever since we got back you've been treating me like I'm going to EXPLODE!"
With that, Morgana forced her shield outward, and it spread, knocking several missiles out of orbit as she did so. When another came her way, she blasted it with a fireball of her own. She watched as the fire fell to the ground where it blazed in the grass, burning a hole in the earth.
Morgana's fist tightened on the wall. She couldn't reach the catapults with her magic alone, but maybe there was another way.
"Morgana-"
"Shut up, Arthur." She turned to him, eyes blazing. "I have a plan; take your men and get inside."
Arthur nodded. "I do trust you," he told her, before doing as she asked.
Morgana reached out with her mind, casting the rage wide to cover the castle. Can everyone hear me? I need everyone here in five minutes. I don't care if you're on your break; if this works we'll all get to rest tonight.
And if it doesn't? It was Iseldir's voice that replied.
Then we're dead anyway. That was Mordred. We can't hold out like this for very much longer; everyone is tired.
In five minutes, all thirteen of the sorcerers had joined Morgana on the walls, including a large handful of other druids, ones whose magic wasn't strong enough to stop the missiles on their own, or too old. It might just be enough, she thought.
On my signal, Morgana called, cast a fire wall at one hundred feet from the wall. Ready? She took a deep breath. From the corner of her eye, she caught Mordred look to her and give her a small nod.
Now!
"Stânhege Forbaerne!" Morgana yelled. All around her, the spell echoed from the mouths of the other sorcerers, and a massive wall of fire reared up from the ground below, blazing tall enough to almost reach the walls of the castle. The hot air blasted into Morgana's face, and she instantly started to sweat.
When I say so, create a wind! Morgana said, push the fire towards the catapults. Now!
"Færblæd wawe!"
Wind whipped around her, a steady pressure that boosted rather than extinguished the blazing flames before her. Slowly, steadily, the fire moved forward, away from the castle and toward the army.
Morgana laughed, a near hysteric sound.
The fire kept moving.
At last, it reached the catapults. The soldiers on the ground, despite their immortality, still mostly fled from the fire, abandoning all forty of the catapults to be eaten by the flames.
A deafening cheer rose from the castle, and from the top of the watchtower, the bell rang out.
Morgana sighed deeply, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, suddenly quite dizzy. The other sorcerers around her were cheering and hugging one another in relief. Morgana smiled, but, looking around at the faces and not seeing the one she wanted to see the most, she couldn't help but feel a little hollow.
VI. Ten Weeks into the Siege
He was tired all the time.
It had never occurred to Merlin to think about ever losing his magic, it had seemed such an impossible thing, that he never thought about what it might entail. He hadn't thought about the absolute exhaustion.
It wasn't like the time he had spent himself beyond his limits. That had hurt, but at least then he had felt something with his magic, even if it was worn out. Now, after he had been fully healed, and the scar on his abdomen had all but vanished under Morgana's practiced hand, he was left with a feeling of utter nothingness.
Before, the world had been practically humming with life. The magic just under the surface of the world there at his fingertips. He had, of course, never noticed it before, taking it as just the way of the world he had lived in.
But now, it was so quiet.
Only in the way it mattered really. Of course there was still noise enough; despite Morgana's win against the Roman catapults, they had, naturally, after a week, rebuilt. Now, there were only five, but the sound of them launching missiles at the castle was more than enough to keep him awake, even at his more tired moments. If he looked out the window, he knew he would be able to see them. Two hundred feet away from the castle walls.
If Merlin were himself again, he could destroy them in seconds.
But he wasn't himself, so he kept the window curtains closed.
He wondered what was in store for today. Usually, around noon, someone came up to see him. Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Gaius were the typical regulars, occasionally it was one of the other knights, or Sefa or Elaine. He supposed it was their way of making sure he didn't throw himself off the top of the tower.
He wouldn't, he knew. What would his mother think of that, afterall? Relatively safe in the isolation of Ealdor as she was. And if anything was going to do him in, it would be the constant pain. The feeling that his body was rejecting the very absence of his magic, like his flesh was trying to rip itself into pieces to leave in search of what had disappeared. It was burning hot and freezing cold and piercing and bruising all at once.
And then there was Morgana. Morgana with her fierce gaze and gentle hands, who had forced him back into the land of the living by her own sheer force of will. Morgana who hovered over him whenever she could get away. Morgana who tried to hide the worry in her eyes. Morgana who with a few whispered words of the Old Religion, lessened his pain, if only for a few hours. Morgana, who would still crawl into bed beside him, smelling of smoke and dust, pulling her body into his without a word. Steady as the calm eye within the storm.
"Will you still love me if I never get it back?"
They were lying in the dark, the sheets tangled around their legs.
Morgana propped herself up on one elbow. Even in the dark, with no candlelight and the curtains drawn against the moonlit sky, Merlin could see the rough outline of her head and shoulders. "Merlin, don't be ridiculous," she said, "your magic will return, and-"
"That's not what I asked." He took a deep breath. "Morgana, please."
He could hear her sigh. He felt her hand gently rest on his chest. "Of course I will still love you, I will always love you. It wasn't your magic that chose to save me, it was your heart."
"I don't think any part of me is doing any good right now."
Morgana kissed him. "Yes, well, me neither." She took a deep breath. She sounded so tired, he thought. "But we'll keep trying, right?"
Merlin nodded, unsure if she could even see. He opened his arms and Morgana crawled back into them, and was fast asleep in moments.
VII. Thirteen Weeks into the Siege
If she closed her eyes, Gwen could pretend that the booming sounds from outside her rooms were thunder, and not the sound of explosions.
The trouble was, it wouldn't do to close her eyes to the situation she was in. Beides, the reality was far too real.
"Anything else, Your Majesty?"
Gwen snapped back to reality. "No, thank you Mary." She told the maid, as she stood from her vanity. "Try and get some rest tonight."
Mary curtsied. "Yes, Your Majesty. You as well."
"I'll try." Gwen replied, as Mary left the room.
The explosions sounded as if they were coming from the opposite side of the castle, and Gwen had every faith in the Sorcerer's Guild to defend the castle from them, nevertheless, she knew it would be difficult for sleep to come to her tonight.
Despite this, she had turned down the fire and extinguished the candles, and was just about to crawl into bed when the door opened.
"You weren't about to go to bed without me, were you?" Arthur said, with a smile.
Gwen returned the smile and held out her hand to him.
Arthur was at her side in a few quick strides, pulling her close.
He smelt of sweat and metal, and his chainmail shirt was hard against the skin of her hands and the soft fabric of her nightgown.
She held on tighter.
"I didn't know when you would be in." She answered.
Against her shoulder, she felt him nod. "I can't stay very long, they're launching missiles at the northern wall, I should be there."
Gwen pulled back and examined him in the dim light of the dying fire. He looked tired, she thought, with deep bags under his blue eyes, he seemed to have aged years in a matter of weeks.
"You're a help to no one if you're too tired to stand up." Gwen said firmly.
Arthur simply nodded, and let himself be led back to the center of the room, where Gwen helped him out of his armor and his clothes. She poured a small bowl of water and added a few shavings of soap before dipping a cloth into it.
As she ran the damp cloth over his shoulders and chest, she paid close attention to the scars that already criss-crossed her husband's body. This one from an arrow, this one from a tournament, this one from the Questing Beast, this one from bandits, this one from King Cenred.
How many more would there be before this was all over and done?
Arthur's hand closed around hers.
Gwen looked up to meet his eyes as his other hand came up to wrap around her waist. Arthur leaned down and kissed her, gently but longingly. Gwen dropped the cloth and it landed with a splat on the table as Arthur's other hand left her own to fiddle with the strings of her nightgown.
She pulled away, rather reluctantly.
"You need to rest."
"In a bit." Arthur replied, gently pushing the neckline of her nightgown down over her shoulders and pulling her into another kiss.
"I've always wanted to know something." She said, later on. Her back was nestled into Arthur's chest; she could feel his warm breath on her neck, and one of his hands rested comfortably on her stomach, cradling the soft swell that had just started to show there.
Arthur gave a soft chuckle. "Go on."
"You've always called me 'Guinevere', never just Gwen, like everyone else did. Why?"
Even with him turned away from her, Gwen could feel as Arthur raised and lowered his shoulder. "Your friends all called you Gwen." His words were simple. "And I didn't want to be your friend."
Gwen reached for his hand and squeezed it once in her own. "Get some rest," she whispered. "I'll wake you up in a few hours."
Arthur left a final kiss on her bare shoulder before his breathing became slow and deep as he drifted off into sleep in a matter of minutes, his hand once again resting against her slightly swollen belly.
She knew all too well what was going on in his head. She knew that, once the fighting became too much, he would try to send her away. She knew that he had been close to doing just that right before the first catapults had been burned. She also knew herself, and, were things just slightly different, she would refuse that, and spend every second she could at Arthur's side.
But now there was the child, Arthur's child, growing inside her after everything she had done to conceive. There was that to think about, and, if she were to die at Arthur's side before the child was even born, then so too would the hope of a better Albion die before it could be born; her and Arthur's reign and line turned to dust before it could even begin.
Logically, she knew what had to be done. But her heart? Who was she to tell it how to beat?
VIII. Fifteen Weeks into the Siege
Arthur was on edge.
He wasn't the only one, he knew. While the catapults now numbered close to twenty again, they were no longer the danger they once were before Morgana had the first batch destroyed. Rather, it seemed to Arthur that they were simply using them for the noise they created when their missiles exploded against the sorcerer's spells.
That and the drumming.
It had started last week. Every night since then, thundering drumming had echoed from every side of the castle. Surely King Sarrum and Father Bron had dedicated one third of their army to the task. Sleep was out of the question. What little rest they could find had to be taken in pieces throughout the day.
And then yesterday had been the biggest blow thus far.
The Lower Town had gone up in flames. Even now, in the gray, predawn morning, Arthur could see the smoke rising from the burnt out shells of buildings from his window. Hard-earned homes and businesses that had belonged to generations of his subjects, passed down from parent to child, gone in a single night.
Arthur squeezed Guinevere's shoulder, as she too, sat transfixed at the smoke-filled sky, knowing exactly of the place that was at the forefront of her mind.
"It's not like I was born there," she said, "We only moved there after Mother died, and of course I haven't lived there in almost two years, but it was home, for a while." She paused for a moment, then laughed. "And gods, it was so small."
"Oh, I remember that." Arthur replied. He smiled. "We had our first kiss there. I was so… full of myself back then, whatever did you see in me?"
Guinevere leaned her head against his arm. "Well to be frank, when I was a maid I always rather liked polishing things up."
"Well, that's something to be thankful for at least."
Arthur let out a large yawn.
"We have a meeting with the Round Table in three hours." Guinevere said, as if reading his thoughts.
"And the drumming's finally stopped." Arthur said, holding out his hand and helping his wife to her feet.
"I think three hours is the longest stretch of uninterrupted sleep we've been able to get all week."
Arthur had to agree, the prospect itself sounded like bliss. "Come," he said, "The more we talk about sleep the less we actually get."
They were halfway to bed when an urgent knock sounded at the door.
Arthur swore. "What?" He called.
Leon poked his head in, breathing heavily. "Sire, there's a disturbance in the Banquet Hall, a fight has broken out."
The Banquet Hall, now less of a banquet hall, and more of an elaborate, indoor garden, was packed with twice as many people as it typically was, and they were all furiously yelling, clustered around a small space in the middle of the room.
"Clear through!" Leon ordered, as Arthur followed close behind. Once the people saw it was their king and queen behind the knight, they parted a path.
In the center of the room, the actual, physical fighting had mostly been quelled by several knights and guards. Arthur saw Tristan and Fergus, each holding back two men who looked like they wanted to rip each other apart with their bare hands, red in the face with yelling. And they weren't the only ones. All in all, almost twenty people, some restrained, some not, were pointing fingers and yelling obscenities at someone else.
Arthur drew his sword. "Enough!" He yelled, looking from one person to another. "Everyone will be heard, but not if you're all yelling over one another!"
One woman stepped forward, pointing at the man restrained by Tristan. "That man is a thief and a liar! He stole a necklace that had belonged to my husband's family for four generations!"
"I did not!" yelled the man, "I've never even spoken to this woman or her husband-" he gestured to the man restrained by Fergus- "in my life, and I certainly have never seen this necklace!"
"He's lying!" said the man Fergus had by the arms, "He stole it to do some…enchantment that those people always do!" He spat out the words as if they were poison.
"What do you mean by 'those people' another woman cut in, the triskelion tattoo on her left cheek marking her clearly as a druid, "'those people', ha! How dare you when we're the only reason you people haven't starved to death yet!"
This was marked by a chorus of agreement from some and more angered yelling from others.
"Quiet!" Guinevere yelled, her eyes blazing. "Arguing solves nothing, especially not now!"
This was met with a chorus of mutters, but one startlingly familiar voice cut through the crowd. "She's right."
Arthur turned, almost dumbfounded. After months of seeing him in only dim candlelight, it was strange to see Merlin in a place that wasn't his dark tower chambers. He looked paler, Arthur thought, even more thin, now verging on gaunt, in this stronger lighting.
Slowly, Merlin stepped forward, and the crowd moved even more easily than it did for Arthur and Gwen. The Court Sorcerer who was no longer a sorcerer demanded an awed attention.
"They want to turn us against one another, make us fight each other for survival, don't you understand that!" Merlin snapped. He held himself straight and firm, but Arthur noticed how heavily his arm leaned against a table, keeping him propped upright.
"This is what they wanted all along." Merlin continued, "It's why they burned the Impenetrable Forest, it's why they've been denying you sleep with explosions and drumming all hours of the night, and it's why they haven't launched a full-scale attack on the citadel. The only way they win is by seeming the better option to each other's fury. It's not enough for them to simply take the castle; they want to destroy us so completely that nothing left to us remains. Our children's children will forget who they are deep in their hearts, and it will be like we never existed at all, never mattered the smallest bit. Do you want that?" Merlin zeroed in on the man restrained by Fergus, "Do you?" Merlin pressed.
"No! N-no, Emrys." The man stuttered.
A cloud passed over Merlin's face, gone in a flash. He nodded curtly. "Good. That's what I thought." He looked around the room, then pointed. Arthur followed his gesture to Sefa. "Locating spell for the necklace. Truth potion if you have to," he told her. Sefa nodded. He then gestured with one hand to the mess of the Banquet Hall. "Clean this up. Together," he added pointedly.
As the crowd scrambled to sort the mess, Arthur saw Merlin slowly turn and make his way out of the Great Hall and down the corridor, no doubt back to his tower once more.
Next Chapter: Son of the Earth, Sea, and Sky (coming 3/11)
I really hope you liked this chapter- In the early stages of thinking about this Part 2 section of the fic, it was early 2021 and we were all still very much locked inside, so this chapter, though it's been a long time coming: all the fear and isolation I was feeling at the time, (spending a lot of time online, only really face-timing and zoom calling people) really not only birthed the idea behind this chapter, but really manifested itself in it as well. I'm doing better now, and I hope you are as well.
I almost made Arthur and Gwen the ones to break up the mob at the end, but I really did feel like I needed Merlin to be able to do something to show that he's more than just his magic, even if he doesn't realize it himself.
Also, about the rules of the Cup of Life- I know what you're thinking: "But Sarah, that's not how the Cup of Life works!" WE'RE WELL PAST SHOW ACCURACY BY NOW. I don't care, the writers made their own rules as they went along, so can I.
