Chapter 6

The Lie: Merlin

Merlin had awoke as the sun was sliding into a golden afternoon, feeling sore and tired, and definitely hungry. The happiness on Gaius' face told Merlin how uncertain his healing the night before had been. His mentor had looked frankly amazed when Merlin quickly finished the soup Alice had ordered brought up from the royal kitchens. He had cajoled Gaius into allowing him to sit up for a while by the fire, well-wrapped in blankets and closely watched, in case he should tire.

A soft knock sounded and Arthur entered, a hopeful expression on his face exploding into a brilliant smile as he spied Merlin.

Unthinking, still caught up in amazement that Arthur knew of his magic and was still smiling at him, Merlin stood up as the king approached. He wobbled a bit, but before Gaius or Alice could notice, Arthur reached out and steadied his friend in a rough embrace. Merlin smiled, his eyes dancing, even as his legs started to give out and he sat down rather more quickly than he intended.

"At long last,my servant wakes," laughed Arthur. It was his familiar derisive tone, but his face was uncharacteristically gentle as he slid into the chair beside him. "Had enough lazing about, Merlin?"

The boys grinned. But to Merlin's surprise, Arthur leaned forward and placed his hand on his shoulder. "We need to talk, ", he said quietly, for Merlin's ears alone, "But privately."

"Sire," began Gaius in his careful tone.

"I understand, " said the king, looking up at the old physician. "I promise I will not tire him, Gaius. But I have need of his advice and time is short."

The old man bowed, his lips tight, but a twinkle of pride gleamed as he turned away. He held his hand out to Alice, who rose and took it with a smile. "Some fresh air will do us good, my dear." Both king and servant smiled as they left hand in hand.

"Arthur?"

The king slid forward in his seat, his elbows balancing on his thighs, as he held his gloved hands in a clasped posture.

"I'm not sure how much you remember," said Arthur without preamble. "Morgana saw you use magic, Merlin, and she saw the lightning bolt strike you. Alice and Gaius believe that Morgana thinks you are dead or mortally injured." His voice sank as he reached the end of his sentence and Merlin noted the shadow in the king's shining eyes. It was quickly shuttered. "If she believes that I am broken and grieving, she will strike at Camelot and soon."

Merlin nodded, but he did not speak. He had not heard Arthur speak so authoritatively, so honestly, since before Uther died.

"We must strike while Morgana believes she has the upper hand, Merlin. She is arrogant and she will never expect for us to set trap for her and attack her, especially at this point in time." he paused looking directly into Merlin's eyes. "I'm going to need your help, Merlin, but you must tell me truthfully, will you be able to use your magic to fight?

The servant was at a loss for words. The reality of this conversation was so close to his fantastical dreams, that he wondered for moment if he actually had died and was dreaming out his last moments in a happy illusion. No, this was much too real. "Arthur, I... I can't believe what I'm hearing," he said softly, looking down. " I would fight this minute if you needed me."

Arthur reached out, patting his friend's shoulder gently.

"I'm beginning to understand the sacrifices you have made for me, Merlin, and I would not ask for something so dangerous, if I did not think an attack by Morgana is imminent."

The king looked down suddenly, his voice pained, but honest. "There are still things you and I need to discuss, Merlin. Things I need to know, but this threat to Camelot exceeds any other need. I cannot wait here until my sister strikes at my kingdom, at my people... " He looked back up at his servant. "You know," he said in an almost conspiratorial tone, "My plan is a bit mad."

"Which is," urged Merlin.

"We give you a funeral, my friend. A hero's funeral, and when Morgana arrives to taunt me, as she surely will, we confront her. But I need you to fight at my side Merlin."

"You are going to tell all of Camelot that I died?" Shocked to his deepest level, he hardly registered that Arthur had asked for his help. His eyes were aghast.

"Indirectly."

"What?"

"We must convince Morgana completely. Rumors will pour out of Camelot, that another Pendragon has gone mad with grief and is planning a funeral for his manservant."

"It's positively creepy, that's what it is! Have you actually lost your mind, Arthur?"

"There was a third fireball, Merlin," said Arthur very softly. "after you went down. It was Morgana's own voice. She said the only way to defeat a Pendragon was to break their heart."

Those words sank into Merlin with all the surety of an assassin's knife. He looked up at Arthur, his eyes dark with emotion. The image of Uther, vacant and broken, after Morgana's betrayal, grew vividly real. He remembered Arthur's despair,the feeling that had pulled him back into awareness, even while he was lost in his enchantment, in the burning dark. It touched his heart with real fear. Could it be that Morgana truly understand that if their bond was shattered, it would leave the other irretrievably broken? Surely, not, he told himself. Morgana of old, would have understood the feeling, but her heart had changed, and she could no longer truly conceive of that level of trust, that kind of strength. Morgana could no longer understand such a connection. No, she acted out of spite and her cruel, hollow victory over Uther. Strangely, joy began to flood Merlin from the very place in his heart where the knife of Arthur's words had struck.

"Warlocks are hard to kill, " he said at last.

"She laid that trap for us Merlin and you nearly paid with your life because of it. She knows my habits, my way of thinking. She calculated a death blow to you would break me completely and then she would take Camelot with hardly a battle. If she didn't know you had magic before, she knows it now, and she believes Camelot has lost it's secret protector."

Merlin's heart lightened with every word that Arthur uttered. It was a truly mad plan but it played into Morgana's love of drama, her need for spectacle. Feeling that same dreadful thrill, that thrill he got when he was about to be sucked into a mad scheme with Will, he looked up Arthur again. But the consequences of this madness were on an epic scale.

"And how would we convince Morgana that you've lost it?"

"Servant's gossip," stated Arthur. "Morgana will never suspect gossip is untrue, especially if there are multiple stories."

The warlock smiled. Arthur was correct. She would never suspect.

"But you must tell me Merlin, if you can actually help me in this battle. I will not accept "I'm fine" or some other ruse, if you are not strong enough for the fight. Be honest with me. WIthout your help this plan will fail. I will abandon this idea if you cannot fight, because I can't... " and here he looked away from Merlin's steady gaze. "I can't go through this again, you know." He gestured at the room, and at Merlin himself. He looked down, as if he wanted desperately to hear, and yet not hear Merlin's answer. He fiddled with the edge of his chainmail. He added, "Gaius told me you are the most powerful sorcerer ever born."

"Yeah, well." Merlin felt almost acutely embarrassed though he wasn't sure why he felt that way. The thought of Emrys loomed in his heart and he could no longer bear the weight of that omission. If Arthur could trust him to use his magic and still didn't know the whole story, then he could at least be honest about what he was.

"I'm not really a sorcerer Arthur. I never learned magic; it's a part of me. I was born with it, and I've used it since I was only a babe. I could move objects with my magic before I could sit up in my mum's arms, before I knew what I was doing."

"You said no spell when you deflected the fireball."

"Sometimes my magic is instinctive, and I don't need words. I've learned to use words to focus, to direct it." The silence between them was awkward as the knowledge came clear.

Arthur's words had raised the specter of Emrys, and he knew the confrontation with Morgana might hinge on that identity alone. Merlin had always thought revealing his magic would relieve the weight of lies that bound him, but now it seemed that his situation had deepened into a horrible looping complexity. He felt trapped. But there was Arthur, his eyes lit with a fascinated curiosity that both surprised and thrilled him. He set aside his guilt.

Calling the fire, he extended his hand to Arthur, a flame glowing in the center of his palm. He breathed on it and it grew, blazing blue at it's heart, but it did not move from his hand. He snapped his fingers and the candles burst into light with a vibrating, almost audible pop. He smiled up at Arthur.

"Did you never wonder how I can always light a fire in the rain?"

The king smiled back. Looking up, the dark haired warlock saw that Arthur remembered nights spent in the tearing winds and a fire that never went out. He recalled nights damp with fog, when the forest dripped with moisture all around their camp with it's merry, golden fire. He looked up and despite all that had happened, despite the bond he felt to his friend, who in that moment looked at him with hopeful, searching eyes, Merlin felt the first dreadful flicker of fear take root in his soul.

The secrets he still had hidden might change everything between he and Arthur. Even thinking of it, made him ache deep down, and he felt Morgana's spell stir again. He blocked it easily. Mutely, the warlock prayed that his strength would serve Arthur's mad plan.