Chapter Summary: Sometimes, the search for answers will birth more questions.
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Chapter II: So Familiar a Gleam
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"Have we been promoted to some noble rank?" Merlin thinks out loud, still staring at the tray of meal in his arms. He eyes the large bowl of thick vegetable soup, two slices of steamed venison, three fried chicken legs, a bowl of out-of-season grapes, a tankard of sweet mead, and another tankard filled with water.
While it's no king's fare, it's certainly a far cry from a servant's.
"Of a sort," Mordred replies, an amused tilt to his lips.
"Just one of the many perks of being a Camelot Court Apprentice," Morgana adds before opening the door to the dining hall with naught but a blink of her eyes.
Gilli waves them over, already started and, by the looks of it, almost finished with his own dinner. Theo scoots to make space for the three of them, and Elise barely looks up from her own food.
"How's the first day of apprenticeship?" Mordred asks Gilli, handing the mage his bowl of soup.
Gilli accepts it. "A bit boring. Mage Gaius just went over the rules with us — what we're not allowed to use, what we're not allowed to do." The mage slurps at the soup before taking a bite from the remaining venison on his plate. His tone holds a hint of irritation when he continues, "That prince just kept rolling his eyes through it all. Rolling his eyes at Mage Gaius! The nerve!"
Mordred tilts his head. "Prince?"
"Princess Clar's brother," Theo drawls out before popping a grape in his mouth. "Apparently, there's two of them."
Oh. Must be the boy Merlin met earlier. Gods, is this realm's Arthur friends with brats again?
"Prince Clarence, huh." Morgana takes a delicate and quiet sip of her soup, expression thoughtful. "Quite a character, I've heard."
"What are they prince and princess of?" Merlin ventures, unable to curb his curiosity. He has travelled with Arthur to various kingdoms and helped the king study royal names and backgrounds in preparation for banquets. Yet, he has never heard or met Clar or her brother in his realm.
"The heirs of Mercia," Morgana answers promptly.
Merlin's eyes widen. "King Bayard's children?" How — Merlin is certain the king of Mercia had no children; his wife died before she could bear him heirs.
Morgana nods in confirmation. The rest of the dinner goes more or less the same, the six of them gossiping like servants in laundry rooms. Merlin risks a few questions of his own, mostly honing his political knowledge of this realm. Thankfully, seeing as Morgana is the only nobility in the table, his ignorance isn't at all unusual. Familiar names reach his ears; King Godwyn, King Cenred, King Odin, Princess Elena, Princess Vivenne, Princess Mithian. However, more unfamiliar names cross the conversation –crowned princes, highly influential queens, famous knights, and prominent sorcerers. Every kingdom allied with Camelot welcomes magic and all its uses. Every kingdom seems to be at peace, no blatantly tenuous relationship between them for now, even between Camelot and Mercia. Merlin hopes the peace is no facade.
He also hopes the sets of eyes boring holes on his back will find some other target. He glances over his shoulder. The apprentices seated on other tables, near and far, whip their heads away. Merlin sees them muttering amongst themselves, gazes drifting to the warlock and darting away when they realize he's still looking.
With the events of the Apprentice Exam fresh on everyone's minds, he should have guessed he is not escaping these intense perusals any time soon. Gods, he misses being able to melt back into the shadows as a servant.
"Don't mind them."
Merlin turns his attention to Morgana, questioning.
Morgana's lips quirk up in a tight smile. "They'll find some other muse for their gossip soon enough. Just don't do anything overly interesting for a couple of weeks."
Easier said than done, Merlin thinks. He thought he didn't do anything particularly interesting during the tests, but he still garnered the attention of one malevolent figure and the unwelcome scrutiny of royalty and nobility.
Still, Morgana's advice is sound. Lay low, Merlin asserts to himself for possibly the thousandth time. I'll get home in no time at all. Hope that prat didn't get himself into too much trouble.
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After dinner, Merlin bids farewell to the others and heads back to the library.
The lit torches are far and few inside the library itself, and Lord Geoffrey seems to have retired for the night. So Merlin grabs the books he left unfinished before, summons a "Léoht" upon his palm, and resumes his search for a creature that could help him go back to his Camelot.
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The knock on his door reverberates throughout the room.
The Court Sorcerer looks up from the documents, frowns, and says, "Enter."
Prince Arthur gracefully slips into the chambers, face set in his usual expressionless mask. "You called for me?"
Balinor stares at him, blinking. "I asked you to come first thing in the morning tomorrow."
Arthur lifts his shoulder in the tiniest of shrugs. "Why wait?" He strides towards Balinor and his desk. "What's all this then?" The prince peeks into the heaps of papers scattered around the Court Sorcerer. Surprise and intrigue flit by his face. "This must be a week's worth of paperwork."
"The queen's idea of punishment," Balinor replies dryly. "I assume there will be the same amount tomorrow." He supposes he should be grateful the punishment is not something more severe.
Arthur raises a brow. "I did advise you not to choose that Merlin."
The Court Sorcerer pauses, noting the hint of anger present in Arthur's tone. He wisely decides to proceed with another — but no less delicate — matter. "Have you brought your arm guard?"
The prince unclasps the straps of the leather band around his right arm. He holds it out to Balinor, inquiries written on his face. The Court Sorcerer gets to his feet as he accepts it, cradling it with both hands. Carefully, he runs an analyzing enchantment over it. Sorrow lances unbidden through his chest at the results.
"You'll need to replenish the magic on it soon," Balinor informs him quietly. "It's nearly gone."
Something in the prince's features twists. "I suspected. No matter how sparsely I use it, it has been four years."
The Court Sorcerer braces himself, knowing what he will say next would not be welcomed. "Know that I will not ask unless it's of utmost import." He releases a breath. "I wish to extract a tiny amount of magic from it."
Arthur's gaze sharpens. "You told me it's almost gone and then ask this of me?"
"I would not ask you if I did not think it important," Balinor repeats, keeping his tone mild.
The prince stares at him, face utterly blank but eyes chips of blue ice. After a tense beat, "Do what you must," he responds, curt. "But I will join you in the experiment rooms."
Balinor inhales sharply. "So you did see it. You saw their resemblance."
"Yes," the prince admits, chin lifting slightly. "But I'm no fool, Balinor." Unlike you, the Court Sorcerer hears the unspoken words clearly. "Lily has made no mention of any sort of family. Cast a revealing spell upon that Merlin and all would be clear."
"I did. Cast a revealing spell on him, that is," Balinor says, and watches as Arthur's eyes widen. "Earlier this morning, I cast it. The disguise didn't unravel because there was none."
The proclamation has left Arthur visibly shaken. After a quick moment, he composes himself and manages to quip, "I doubt he agreed to that. You performed a revealing spell on someone without their consent? I never thought I would be alive to see the day you go against your principles."
"I did ask for permission," the Court Sorcerer counters. "It's no fault of mine if he didn't ask for clarification."
"You and your silver tongue." Arthur lets out a breath that can be construed as an exasperated sigh. Then, blue eyes drift to the arm guard still in Balinor's hands. "I suppose we should get this over with."
The Court Sorcerer follows his gaze. "I concur. It is time for answers."
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Daegal knocks three times, deftly balancing a tray of food in one hand.
The previously locked wooden door creaks open, the occupant of the room giving him permission. He pushes it further open with his shoulder and enters.
He glances and tiptoes around, squinting in the dark and hoping he doesn't step onto the knickknacks he knows are scattered about in the room. Then, suddenly, the torches flare to life, lighting up the room. He breathes a sigh of relief.
The owner of the chambers places their hands down after the fire spell and resumes their task.
"Thank you, Lord Wracu," Daegal says.
He approaches the long table at the center of the room, easily stepping over cloaks, daggers, totems. Upon reaching the table, he gingerly pushes aside empty and non-empty vials of colorful liquids and frees up enough space to put down the food. His gaze turns to the man sitting by the vanity desk a few feet away, uncloaked and adorning his nightwear. He catches Lord Wracu dripping drops of dark red liquid from a small bottle to one filled with a bright green viscous concoction.
Daegal stares at the dark red substance, the texture and color greatly reminding him of blood, which might be because it is. He absentmindedly arranges the various paraphernalia on the table into some semblance of order, eyes still watching Lord Wracu's ministrations. He dares not speak up nor make any significantly loud noises. With the scolding Lord Wracu received from his own mother the night before, and their intense discussion just earlier in the morning, Daegal reckons he's not quite in a patient mood.
Lord Wracu sets aside the now empty bottle still smeared with ominous red. He shakes the remaining bottle in his hand, murmuring a long string of spells. The red and green hues swirl inside the mixture in hypnotizing patterns. Finally, and impossibly, after a few moments, the concoction loses its color, emulating water from uncorrupted springs.
"Daegal," Lord Wracu calls out.
Daegal, hands full of the cloaks that were once on the floor, pauses expectantly.
Lord Wracu lifts the bottle, showing it to him. "Tell me its color."
Daegal blinks. "It has none, my lord."
"None? Is it not at least cloudy? Look closer."
Daegal complies, drawing nearer and squinting. "It's not cloudy at all, my lord. As clear as freshwater, in fact."
Lord Wracu stills. "I see." He slowly places the bottle down on the vanity desk and leans back on his chair.
Daegal, as usual, can read nothing on his expression. Knowing little about magic and all its secrets, he ventures, "What does it mean, Lord Wracu?"
For several moments, Lord Wracu does not answer nor speak at all. Daegal resumes cleaning up the chambers, stowing away the enchanted daggers and throwing knives in their assigned cabinets.
"Something beyond my understanding," Lord Wracu replies, finally, tone blank and cold. The admission startles Daegal immensely because Lord Wracu always knows. Suddenly, one of the black cloaks hanging by the open cabinets flies towards Lord Wracu's open hands. "Call for an assembly, Daegal. I would find my answers."
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The experiment rooms have always felt colder than the rest of the castle. Stored potions need lower temperatures to last long, and the presence of so many liquids in one enclosed place has caused a damp feeling in the air.
Prince Arthur and Balinor stride in, taking in bubbling potions, stoppered vials, empty bottles, and smoking cauldrons. Given the late hour, no one else but them occupied this particular chamber. They are indeed lucky; Balinor doubts he can find a viable excuse as to why the Court Sorcerer and the Crowned Prince are in the experiment rooms together.
Balinor heads to one of the numerous shelves nailed to the wall, amber eyes flicking open the labels on the bottles. After a short moment, he finds the desired potion and plucks out the bottle half-full of bright green substance.
He and Arthur claim one of the very few empty tables in the room, one free of any mage equipment.
From the pockets of his coat, Balinor extracts two storage crystals — one filled up by one unusual apprentice, and the other taken from the dwindling magic from Arthur's arm guard.
Gingerly, Balinor coaxes the magic on both crystals unto the bottle. Glowing blue falls from the crystals like mists into the surface of the green liquid. The liquid ripples softly as if the smoke-like substance holds weight. Balinor and Arthur trade glances; the fact the magical energies from two different sources are of the same hue speaks volumes even before they start the test.
Immediately, the Court Sorcerer corks the bottle before any of the magic can escape. He utters a long string of spells, forcing the glowing blue to settle and mix into the liquid green.
Both the prince and Court Sorcerer gaze fervently at the bottle, anticipating what it will show them. Balinor is expecting a lighter green shade at least, a cloudy white at best. He knows Arthur is expecting the color not to change at all, denoting no relation whatsoever between the two owners of the magic.
After several moments of the concoction swirling in dizzying patterns, the color promptly bleeds out from the mixture. All that remains in the bottle is a clear liquid.
The silence that followed is deafening and thick with tension.
"Did you do it wrong?" Arthur demands, the beginnings of a scowl tinting his face and a tinge of anger dripping in his tone. "What is this?"
"I did it correctly," Balinor answers, eyes steadily on the bottle in his hands.
No cloudiness nor any spec of color. Pure, transparent, not unlike water from untouched brooks, declaring no difference at all between the two magical signatures. As if the magic from the two crystals came from only one source.
Impossible. And yet.
He tightens his grip on the bottle, his fingers having slackened from the unbridled shock and disbelief going through his whole body. "This—This is the right result."
"It can't be," Arthur voices out Balinor's inner denial. "Do it again."
At that, Balinor replies, as calmly as he can even though he doesn't feel calm at all, "Your arm guard doesn't have nearly enough magic for another test. And I doubt it would change the results."
"What are you suggesting then?" Arthur shoots him an icy look, and his tone is no less cold. "That this Merlin is—" He cuts himself off, breathes out, continues, "Balinor, I saw Lily's body myself. She was —" The prince swallows, and Balinor sees his facade cracking at the edges. "You carried her to the funeral pyre yourself," he finishes, the words coming out as an accusation.
Balinor allows his eyes to close briefly at the prince's words. "I know not what to make of it myself." He glances at the cursed bottle that gave them more questions than answers. "I know of no recorded precedence regarding this—situation." The Court Sorcerer violently squashes down the hope flaring between his ribs because he knows that there is another yet undiscovered solution to their conundrum. He will find it, and the answer would be far from the one his heart is set on insisting. "But I'll consult a few books, and perhaps ask Gaius. Discreetly. Arthur . . . All of this must have a sensible explanation." Don't get your hopes up, he leaves unsaid.
Arthur hears it clearly. The prince nods, jaw visibly clenching. "Let me know if you find anything." It's more of an order than a request.
The prince storms out of the chambers without another word.
Balinor brings his stare back to the bottle and lets out a heavy breath.
Can anything involving Merlin of Ealdor ever be simple?
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A/N:
"I know you . . . The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam." – Aurora, Sleeping Beauty (1959)
A short but hopefully informative chapter 😉. Next one is more exciting, I think. I certainly had fun writing it. But don't expect it soon! I'm hoarding chapters before the updates could catch up.
A couple of people commented on the Merthur and I can't believe I forgot to say it.
This will be Merthur BUT as I said, it will never be a priority. Bromantic Merlin & Arthur, however, will be gratuitous. Out of 200K words, probably less than 15K will be dedicated to romantic Merthur. And please don't expect any NSFW . This story's rating will never change. The steamy level will probably be similar to Pride and Prejudice. There will be handholding. A kiss. Or maybe two kisses, if I'm feeling risqué. Maybe someone will show some ankles. *gasps and covers eyes* Scandalous.
And, of course, I read every comment! And reread them all at least once a week for good measure :D. Thank you all for your kind words and awesome speculations/musings. My good people, some of you need to get in on this action and write those amazing ideas!
Hope you are all getting enough rest! Stay safe and awesome!
~ Vividpast