Title: Edge: Prologue
Author: hermitknut
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG at the moment, might become PG-13 or even 15 at a later date.
Warnings: Slash (duh).
Summary: King Uther is dead; Long Live King Arthur! But it's not quite that simple. The interregnum – the time between the death of one king and the coronation of the next – is proving to be more complex than it would seem. Two old friends return; but have the last five years changed one of them beyond repair?
Disclaimer: If it were mine… Merlin and Arthur would make out in almost every episode :D

A/N: This is the sequel to "Heads and Tales" [links to all chapters here]. You can probably make sense of this without reading that if you like. This story has not been finished yet so I don't know how long it will be, but it should be about the length of Heads and Tales if not a little shorter. I know little about how this gap between one king and the next works, so I've just imagined my own version :P If you have any suggestions, please feel free to make them – also, reviews are awesome.

"Merlin, hurry up with my boots."

Merlin looked up and saw Arthur standing by the window, looking out at the dawn. Another normal day.

But no; wait; this wasn't right. Merlin could feel his druidic robes against his skin, so different from his old servant's clothes. He looked down, and he wasn't holding boots but two silver rings. He looked up again at Arthur, who turned, the dawn light forming a crown in his golden hair that was almost blinding. The rings in his palm burned –

- and then he was following Arthur down the corridor, only one set of footsteps echoing on the floor, and Merlin realised that they were his own because Arthur was barefoot below his kingly robes -

- and then Arthur turned a corner, and when Merlin followed he had vanished. The corridor was darker and taller than he had expected, and as he went to turn around he realised that he was no longer in control of his movements. He was walking along quietly trying not to be heard; and then around another corner, guards! He pulled himself into an alcove before he could be seen, and then cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered. Something clunked down the other end of the corridor. Both guards looked around and moved a few feet away from the doors that they were guarding, and then he was moving, running with soft feet, constantly casting more distraction spells with a magic that was not Merlin's own.

He was through the door, and into the room. But not just any room.

The chambers of the king-to-be.

The curtains around the bed were closed as he approached them. With pale hands, he took a small leather bag out of a pocket. As he held the bag, he saw that the tips of his fingers were covered in a myriad of tiny scars. He reached into the bag, some kind of powder gripped between his fingers – and then he was reaching to pull back the curtain around the bed, a dawning sense of triumph –

Merlin woke up, his eyes wide, absolutely still as the fear flooded through him. Fighting the desire to run to Arthur's chambers, he muttered a few calming spell-words and then let his magic spread from him in the way that he had been taught. He felt it seep through the castle, gently passing over sleeping minds and leaving behind only the fleeting impression of unseen gold. He focussed it onto Arthur's chambers, prying into every corner and crevice. But the guards were in their places, the air was undisturbed, and Arthur was – awake? Merlin frowned, and focussed slightly more. Arthur seemed to have jerked awake at the same time as Merlin; he was sitting upright, breathing heavily, but calming now that he could clearly see that nothing was amiss. Had they shared a dream? Merlin wondered. Perhaps it was something he would have to look into. For the moment, all was well; best to go back to sleep. The last word he breathed out quietly, knowing it would soothe Arthur's mind as well as his own.

Merlin wasn't aware of it, but a few minutes later he and Arthur fell back to sleep at exactly the same moment.

The following day, and Arthur and Guinevere were near to finishing the hearing of the people.

The guards brought the last person in to stand in the centre of the room, and Arthur heard Guinevere smother a gasp. He turned to look.

The young boy was sandy-haired and freckled. He was shaking, trembling, his wide blue eyes focused straight at the ground, terrified.

Arthur had no words for a moment, before clearing his dry throat and forcing out the words that he had to say.

"What has this boy been charged with?" he called. A guard stepped forward.

"Sorcery, sire."

Those two words fell into the quiet chamber like iron bars dropping to the floor. Of course. Sorcery was the only crime that would cause a child to be brought before the court.

Arthur glanced across to Merlin again where he stood in that shadowed corner. How could this boy be condemned when he, Arthur, had invited a sorcerer into the castle and given him his freedom? Uther's laws were still officially in place until the coronation, but as king-to-be Arthur had the power to waive them.

"What is your name?" Arthur asked. The boy looked up at him fearfully for a second before going back to staring frantically at the floor.

"M-mark, sire," he whispered.

"And what," Arthur asked of the guard, "was the occurrence that caused you to call him before this court?"

The guard shuffled, slightly uncomfortable at being given his king's full attention.

"He – um – he turned me into a pig, my lord."

There was a ripple of quickly hushed chuckles around the court. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" he asked, in the same tone of voice that he had long ago used when catching Merlin in a lie. "You don't look that piggish to me."

"He reversed it, my lord." The guard was blushing red.

"I see." Arthur looked back to the young boy. He could not have been more than eight years of age. "And what do you have to say to this, Mark? You may speak."

"I-I didn't mean to," the pale boy stuttered. "He came out of n-nowhere and I was frightened and he – he just…" he bit his lip. Arthur took pity on him, and spoke to the court in general.

"So far as I can see, no harm has been done," he said, eyes roving the chamber the way his father had taught him, watching for naysayers. "Does anyone here know any way in which anyone was harmed?"

Silence. No one spoke. Arthur could feel all their eyes upon him, and knew how important this moment was.

"I do not see that this young boy should be punished," he said. "In future, however," he said to the guards, "perhaps you should spend more of your time looking for those who aim to steal and hurt than scaring small children."

The matter was ended, and with it most of the court made their exit. As they were leaving, Guinevere leant closer and spoke to Arthur.

"I think you made the right decision. Things have changed."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, gazing vaguely ahead, resisting the urge to turn to Merlin and ask him. Did I do it right?

"They have not changed much yet," he replied to Gwen, who shook her head.

"I think they have," she said. "That laughter today; they never would have laughed had Uther been there."

With that she rose, and left Arthur to his own thoughts. When the door had closed behind her, Arthur spoke.

"Merlin, come forward," he said.

The slender sorcerer was before him without delay, giving the customary bow before straightening up, his eyes lowered respectfully.

"My lord," he said.

Arthur gazed at him for several seconds, letting the silence stretch out. Then he made his decision.

"Where have you been all this time?" he asked, careful to maintain the façade of a king speaking to a courtier. Merlin seemed to have expected his question.

"I studied with the woodland druids, my lord."

"I was not aware that the woodland druids taught courtly manners to their students."

There was a slightly longer pause before Merlin's reply this time, but no other noticeable reaction.

"I spent enough time here before my… absence… to learn, my lord."

"Funny, I always thought you were incapable of learning any manners."

That got a reaction. Merlin's eyes flashed irately to Arthur's face – it lasted less than a second before he had returned to perfect courtly deference, but it had been there. A glimpse of the old Merlin. Perhaps insulting him had not been kind, but when it came down to it how had the two of them met? If Arthur had to go through those years of quarrelling and disrespect again in order to get to Merlin's heart, then he had absolutely no qualms about doing so. The only thing he feared was never being able to reach again that bond that they had once had.

Aware that he had let the silence stretch out again, Arthur shifted in his throne and spoke again.

"Have you settled on a place to make your permanent residence yet?" he enquired coolly. Merlin shook his head.

"Not yet, my lord," he replied. Another awkward, too-long pause – but between the two of them the smallest moment seemed too long now.

"Well, your position will not be instated until the coronation," Arthur said, giving up on deciphering Merlin any more on this occasion. "You have no duties until then that I am aware of; I shall send for you if you are needed. You have the freedom of the castle, however I would suggest you avoid displaying your talents in front of the guards until the law has officially changed."

"Yes my lord; thank you, my lord."

"You may go."

After Merlin had left, Arthur headed straight downstairs to train with a practice dummy. He spent the rest of the afternoon venting his frustration, to no avail.

What next?