Chapter XV: The Weakest Links
A timid knock sounded at Merlin's door. "Come in," he called, looking up from his scrying. He might have people scouring the landscape for areas they couldn't see, but he hadn't wanted anyone else watching Alined. King Caerleon's suspicions weren't public knowledge, and though Merlin and Arthur were both certain that it was only a matter of time before the former caught Alined at something, they didn't think their spying would go over well with the spellbinders who wanted to live in Deorham.
Sefa, Gwen's druid friend, stepped inside. Huh. Merlin didn't think the two of them had ever spoken alone before. She might have become comfortable with the People's Queen, but Emrys was another story. Still, she was one of his, and she looked frightened.
"What's wrong?" Merlin inquired, keeping his voice as gentle as he could.
The druid hesitated before blurting, "I had to use magic today. In front of people, I mean."
"When you were with Gwen during the attack, you mean?"
"Yes. But—" She fell silent, hunting for words. "I shouldn't be afraid, but I… am."
"Because now the people who hate our kin know what you are," Merlin deduced.
Sefa nodded, chewed her lip.
"All right." The Court Mage considered. "You're obviously worried about people in general, but is there anyone specific who frightens you?"
"Not yet, I don't think." Her brow furrowed as she presumably thought through a list of names. "The other servants who've heard, they and the guards are… leery… but they haven't done anything to make me feel threatened. It's just that… I'm not very strong, and I can't defend myself physically like Gilli can, and even if I knew how I don't think I could bring myself to actually hurt anyone. I feel like—like I'm the weakest link."
"The most vulnerable scapegoat," Merlin supplied.
"Yes! Like there's a target on my back." She swallowed hard. Moisture glinted in her eyes. "I know you're busy, Emrys, and you have so many more important things to be doing, but… is there anything you can do to keep me safe?"
"Protecting you is important," the warlock corrected her. "I can whip up another of those amulets, probably by lunchtime tomorrow. You're staying in Gwen's suite, right?" A nod of confirmation. "There are a couple more security spells which I was already going to put up, what with the announcement and all…. Do you know the spell to unlock doors?"
"Tospringe."
"Exactly. We can get you a new lock for your bedroom, let you keep the key inside. Hmm." He tapped his chin. "Charms of general protection are surprisingly hard and time-consuming to make, which is why I've never done it, but I think there's one in the vaults."
Sefa was horrified. "That should go to someone else. Gwen, maybe, or the king."
"There might be more than one, and if there isn't, we both know they'd want you to have it."
The druid, having met Arthur and Gwen, was forced to acknowledge that Merlin had a point, but she still felt like the possibly-hypothetical amulet should go to someone else. Maybe there was a protective charm she could learn to, say, put on her dresses? Or a disguise of some sort? Or—something?
"What about a demonstration?" Merlin asked slowly, a wicked smile growing on his face.
"What do you mean?"
He told her.
It was done. The word was out.
Camelot knew that Gwen would be its queen.
Well, some of Camelot knew. There hadn't been much warning that Arthur would deliver a sunset proclamation, so relatively few people were standing down in the courtyard. Murmurs rose as the shocked silence—a peasant queen!—gave way to shocked gossip and speculation. To Gwen's straining ears, the susurration was more curious than appalled, which could only be a good sign.
Then again, this was only a small slice of Camelot's population. It might even be the slice that most supported and approved of their king.
Arthur and Gwen lowered their entwined hands. The crowd's tenor changed. Belated applause merged with the voices, then crescendoed until the clapping eclipsed all the words except a few shouts of "King Arthur!" and even "Queen Guinevere!"
Gods. Queen Guinevere.
It was beginning to feel more real now. Queen.
She had no idea how to be a queen.
Arthur was grinning. He pressed her hand to his lips in a gentle kiss. Gwen smiled, tremulous but genuine. "I told you it would go over well," he murmured.
"You did," she answered, just as soft. "I can't help but worry, though, about… all this and about Dad and everything else."
Arthur's jaw hardened. "We will get through this," he vowed. "It's easy to focus on the hatemongers and enemies who want to make this kingdom worse, but they're here too." He nodded at the cheering crowd. "We just have to remember that."
"I try."
A grin, almost roguish. "This is the part where we wave to the crowd," Arthur confided. He waved; the crowd roared. Gwen's wave was smaller, shyer, but the reaction was just as loud. She found herself wondering if their people, and especially their spellbinders, had infiltrated the populace. It would be just like Merlin or Morgana to magically augment this cheering.
If they had, it was a very sweet gesture. Gwen waved again, this time in tandem with Arthur. She was smiling. Magically augmented or not, these people were celebrating her engagement, sharing her joy.
The people of Camelot shouted again, louder than before.
"We keep this up for about a minute," Arthur murmured. "Anything longer is gauche."
"We wouldn't want that. Should I start counting seconds?"
"No, I've been doing that. One more time, I think, then we turn around and go in."
They retreated into the castle, where the guards stared at Gwen in something like disbelief. Her smile faded as self-consciousness reared its ugly head, but Arthur was still holding her hand. Gwen smiled at the guards, nodded in a fashion that she hoped was both regal and friendly.
Tom and Elyan were waiting a bit further in. They wrapped Gwen in a hug as soon as she came within grabbing distance. Arthur tried to step away, but she tugged at their combined hands and told her family to make room. Tom looked a bit uncertain, but Elyan helped his sister reel Arthur in. The king was stiff, so Gwen squeezed his hand and murmured, "It's all right. I promise they won't bite if you don't."
"He bites?" Elyan joked.
"Only food," Arthur retorted. He was beginning to relax, even lean into the unexpected embrace.
"Welcome to the family," Tom said quietly. The blacksmith's eyes darted to Arthur's crown, and he shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd say that to Arthur Pendragon, but you're a good man and I know you'll be a good husband to her. I wish you all the happiness in the world."
Arthur's breath hitched. Gwen pretended not to notice. If Elyan or Tom realized, they didn't let on either.
Uther Pendragon had not been a good father. In her heart of hearts, Gwen wasn't entirely convinced that he had loved Arthur, though she hoped for Arthur's sake that Uther had. If he had, it was so tangled with toxic possessiveness and rigid expectations and redirected bitterness over Ygraine's death that it had warped into something dark and twisted that demanded absolute obedience. But Arthur had loved his father, brightly and fiercely, even as he grew, reluctantly, to understand that Uther was neither a good king nor a good man. It was a thorny sort of love; the tighter Arthur grasped at it, the deeper it cut into his hands. But it was love nonetheless.
He loved very much, her Arthur. Not always well, not always openly, but the love was still there.
Gwen hoped that he could learn to love her family as his own. Arthur deserved Tom's supportive acceptance, Elyan's loyal companionship. She prayed that he would let them in.
"I'm afraid you're stuck with us now," she told Arthur. They were not quite in public, but there were enough people around that he was on his guard. He wouldn't respond well to something more heartfelt, not in these circumstances, so she went for a teasing tone instead. "Gods help you, you'll never get rid of us. We'll haunt you forever."
"Gods help me indeed," Arthur drawled, his voice steady and even. But he squeezed her hand once more before letting it go. He understood.
"How do I look?" Merlin gave a little twirl, his skirts flaring around his legs.
"Perfectly realistic," Elyan told him.
"Not perfectly," Gwen disagreed. "Look at how Sefa is holding herself. She's a bit… shyer."
Merlin gazed intently at the druid girl, altered his posture. "How's this?"
"Much better," Gwen assured him. "Now try walking, both of you. I've noticed that men usually walk differently than women, so…. Smaller steps, Merlin."
"I don't miss skirts," Isolde chuckled. "Well, most of the time. They're all right once in a while."
"You look amazing either way," Tristan declared.
"He doesn't have to be too convincing, though," Gwaine pointed out. "They aren't going to waste too much time stalking 'Sefa' here before they try something."
"Not necessarily," Leon replied. "Any spies left behind are likely to be more cautious. They could spend days observing 'Sefa.'"
"Unless they think they have a time limit," Arthur mused. "Like if Merlin is making a protection amulet that will be ready tomorrow, or if she's leaving soon."
"We can spread the word this morning, have you go out in the afternoon," Leon suggested. "It just depends on which rumor we use."
"You can drop the illusion, Merlin," Arthur said. "It's odd seeing two Sefas."
"He's afraid he'll forget who's who," teased Gwaine.
"We wouldn't want that." Merlin dropped the illusion. "Sefa, have you been getting people asking you about Gwen?"
"Of course."
"Maybe let slip that you'll be back for the wedding."
"I like that," Gwaine chuckled. "You don't even have to give a date, you can just let them come up with details on their own. Nicely done, Merlin."
"I try."
"You should start spreading the rumor right after we finish breakfast," Morgana decided. "Then Merlin can impersonate you in the early evening, when they'll think they have the cover of darkness. You could act like you're going to buy a traveler's chest."
"Or presents for your family," Lancelot supplied. "We could get you a traveler's chest this afternoon, make it that much more urgent for them to take you out immediately."
Sefa shuddered. Morgana patted her shoulder, sympathetic. She understood; she'd experienced the constant back-watching and wouldn't wish it on anyone. Perhaps it would be good for Sefa to take some time away for real. Morgana wondered if she should suggest that without offending the druid girl. Probably, if she was delicate about it.
If all went well, though, perhaps she wouldn't need to.
With business concluded, they spent the rest of breakfast, short as it was, engaged in small talk before dispersing to their various duties. Morgana had arranged a meeting with several members of the guard, people whom Lancelot and/or Leon vouched for as 'mostly reasonable.' The idea was that if she could win them over to magic's side, then their example could convince the more reticent guardsmen. Peer pressure used for good.
There were fewer guards in the conference room than she'd hoped for, but Morgana didn't let that get to her. She wouldn't. Instead, she plastered a bright smile onto her face. "Welcome! I'm glad to see you here. Today, I'll be explaining the basics of how magic works, what it can and can't do, and how it will affect your day-to-day lives. Leoht."
Several men jumped or flinched or both. Morgana ignored them. "Human magic enables spellbinders to alter reality in accordance with out wills…."
"See anyone yet, Elyan?"
"Not yet. You?"
Elyan and Leon meandered through the streets of Camelot, following Merlin on his mission to bait assassins. Leon nodded slightly, pointing his chin towards a man across the street. "I think he's been following Merlin, but I can't be certain. Keep an eye on him."
"Will do."
Merlin-as-Sefa made a show of examining a basket. He shook his head, then started walking back the way he'd come from.
"I think Merlin's noticed our friend too," Elyan muttered. "Look, he's doubling back."
"Seeing if anyone follows," Leon agreed. His gaze was glued to the suspicious man, whose own eyes were on the fake Sefa. He, too, began to amble in the same direction as the disguised warlock.
Elyan, Leon, and the other plainclothes knights dotted through the crowd were not there to protect Merlin. The warlock was fully capable of guarding himself, but he had only two eyes and one voice. The knights were witnesses, observers, there to scout out suspicious activity while Merlin focused on his Sefa act. As the Court Mage continued down the lane, Elyan and Leon watched the suspicious man pause near another two citizens. He said something that they couldn't make out, and the other two men joined him. Their walk had become purposeful, almost menacing.
Leon's lips curled up. "Good. More traitors to interrogate." He didn't know if they were the so-called Sons of Uther or simply opportunists, but either way, spellbinders would be safer if they took the bait.
"I like how they need to outnumber her three to one," Elyan agreed. "Wait. What's Merlin doing?"
"He's… staring into a random alleyway. I assume he wants to create an excuse to go someplace they can ambush him."
Merlin was a good actor. He took a couple steps further into the side street, hesitated, hands wringing at his illusory skirts. (If this gave his pursuers more time to catch up, then that was a happy coincidence.) Then he darted forward, out of the golden sunlight of late afternoon and into the long shadows of the alley. The three men follow.
A moment of quiet, then shouts erupt in a blazon of curses. Elyan and Leon picked up their pace, rounding the corner just after Marrok and Gwaine but before Percival and Lancelot. Merlin stood beaming in the center of the alley, using his magic to hold the three followers against a wall. Two of them held knives.
"Three traitors and would-be murderers. Not bad for a single evening's work," the warlock chirped.
The first man snarled a curse. The second gasped, "This is just a misunderstanding, we weren't going to do anything!"
Merlin shot the second man an arch stare. He flicked his wrist, and the knives flew out of the first two men's hands to land at his feet.
"Well—Lucky got out his knife first, so that's why I did it."
The third man groaned. "Oh, gods," he muttered.
"You're all under arrest for attempted murder," Leon informed the captives. "Sir Lancelot, do you have the ropes?"
"Of course."
"I was going to protect her. Uh, him," the second captive babbled.
"Stop. Talking," the third grated.
"It can wait until we're back at the castle," Gwaine stated. He gestured at their audience, a crowd of about twenty citizens who'd come to gawp. "Then you can talk as much as you'd like. Merlin, you've got that truth potion, right?"
"Just the quick-brewing one," the warlock lied. Truth potions didn't exist, as he'd told them several times, but the anti-magic faction wouldn't know that. "You know, the one with all the side effects." Teeth gleamed within his smile.
"Wouldn't it be kinder to wait for the slow-brewing one?" Lancelot asked, carefully bland.
"Yes, but that would take too long. Besides, we caught this lot red-handed. We know they're guilty, so I don't have to worry about innocent people suffering from all those side effects."
"I'll talk!" the second man cried.
"Good plan. Sir Leon, do you want to walk to the castle, or should I bring us?"
"We'll walk, I think."
Merlin bowed extravagantly, released the first man. Gwaine and Percival grabbed him, forcing him into manacles.
With the three prisoners secured, the captors made their way back to the castle. They attracted a fair few stares on the way back, but enough people recognized the former-then-demoted-then-promoted-again Head Knight and the new Court Mage that they weren't challenged despite their lack of uniforms. Elyan knew Camelot well enough to realize that the story (and a dozen rumors) would be all over the city by morning. The rumor mills were working overtime in the wake of the king's shocking engagement.
Three knights took the first and third men to the dungeons, while the rest of the party took the second man, Macsen, to a chamber near the library that had become Blanchefleur's de facto office for interrogation. They'd question Lucky and Connor later, once they had enough information for specifics. (Also, it would be easier to make them answer when they knew their comrade had already spilled the beans.)
"Don't use the potions," Lucky begged as the door closed behind them. "I'll tell you everything I know."
"All right," said Merlin, "we won't use the truth potions on you, just your friends. Just thought you should know that in case you got any ideas about lying." He leaned forward, magic-golden eyes almost glowing in the firelight. Lucky flinched. "So. Start talking."
He talked. He and his friends (and several other people) had been feeding information to a farm woman who frequently visited the city to sell her wares. She had connections with another country woman who either was in direct contact with the gathering rebels or knew someone who was, Macsen wasn't certain.
"And what exactly have you lot been doing?"
So far, it was mostly information gathering and rumor seeding. Their enemies had noticed the power of gossip, so they manufactured as many ugly stories as they could. Lucky had heard that other members of his coterie had been planning other missions, including strategies to betray the citadel to an invading army and to assassinate high-visibility spellbinders, but he swore he didn't know any more details about that.
"We'll get back to that later. For now, give us as many names as you can remember."
In addition to his two co-conspirators for the evening, Lucky knew three other people who were definitely on the rebels' side. One of the names made the interrogators start. Grainne was a maid in the castle, someone with easy access to Merlin and Morgana's chambers.
Elyan volunteered to find her immediately. "Even if she's not the one who left those death threats, she'll know who did, and we can't risk her getting away." Some of the spies would escape, an inevitable consequence of marching their captives through the streets, but this one was in a position to be especially dangerous if she broke away.
"I'll go with you in case she has allies," Leon said. Elyan grinned at the other knight, and they began their march to the servants' quarters.
Their grins died when they arrived at their destination to find it abuzz with a conversation that died at their entry. Elyan tensed. He automatically scanned the five assembled servants for signs of guilt or, worse, weaponry. He found a good deal of the former but not much of the latter.
"What happened?" Leon demanded.
They hesitated, loyalty to their friend—for Elyan recognized them now as friends of Grainne's—warring with their ingrained response to a nobleman's demands. The latter won out. "We—well, I—heard about you catching a group of traitors, so I came here to tell everyone about it. I'm off-duty," she added, as though that were the issue here. "We're all off-duty, I swear."
"Noted."
"Well, I came here to tell everyone that some spies had been caught, but then Grainne… took it strangely. She asked who they were, and I said that I don't know yet, so she went to go see, but…. Beca, tell them what you saw."
"Grainne was leaving the castle," Beca grudgingly admitted. "She was probably going to tell her parents what's happening, or maybe she wanted to learn more. There are a lot of reasons that she might have left. She's a good person, and loyal to the king. I'll swear to it."
As gently as he could, Elyan explained, "The traitors named Grainne as part of their network of spies. We've come to apprehend her."
"No!"
"She wouldn't."
"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…."
"They're lying. Grainne wouldn't do that, she wouldn't."
Leon raised a hand for silence. The servants quieted except for the one who was muttering "Oh gods." Beca elbowed him, snapping the boy out of his stupor. He jumped but stopped his mumbles.
"Where do her parents live?" Leon asked. "We'll not harm them, not unless they attack first. You have my word on that."
"They wouldn't either," one servant whispered. Elyan couldn't tell who it was, they spoke so softly.
Seren gave them directions, both to the parents' home and to Grainne's older sister's house.
"No time to get the others," Elyan stated as they rushed back through the halls. "I'll go to Grainne's parents' place. I know that part of town better."
"Then I'll pay her sister a visit."
They were almost at the stables, where they shouted for the grooms to help them saddle their horses. The stable boys worked at record speed, and soon Elyan and Leon were thundering through the streets. The common-born knight raised a hand in farewell as they separated.
It seemed like barely a moment before Elyan arrived at his latest destination. He swung off his horse and lunged at the door. He spared a moment to hope it wasn't locked before grabbing at the handle. His hopes were answered; it wasn't locked, and he erupted into the little house without interruption.
A middle-aged couple gaped at him. "Who are you?" the woman gasped. "What do you want?"
"I'm Sir Elyan, one of the king's knights. Is your daughter Grainne here?"
The man's gaze darted to the window. His wife choked, "What do you want with her? She wouldn't do anything wrong, she's—"
Elyan backtracked, shooting off on foot in the direction that Grainne's father had looked. Night was falling fast, but there were still a few people going about their business. Elyan looked from face to face, but he didn't see Grainne. Then a blur of motion caught his eye, a shape ducking hurriedly into an alleyway.
It would be immensely ironic if she was luring Elyan into a trap just as Merlin had earlier done to her comrades. She wouldn't, though. She'd barely escaped the castle and hadn't had time to organize an ambush. Her only hope was to outrun him, and Elyan wouldn't bet money on her being able to manage that. She'd been on foot all the way from the castle, with only a few minutes' respite with her parents, and she was wearing a skirt. Gwen, Morgana, and Isolde had all commented on how much more quickly a person could run in trousers.
"Stop!" Elyan bellowed. "In the name of the king!"
Grainne—for it must be Grainne—sped up. Elyan followed suit. The distance between them halved, quartered. She swerved, narrowly avoiding her pursuer's grasp, but she couldn't repeat the trick. Elyan grabbed her skirt and pulled. The fabric held. Grainne fell with a cry of pain and shock.
"You're under arrest," the knight announced.
"You're the traitor," she spat. "Damn you, you're the traitor! I'm loyal to the real king!"
"You can tell that to the guards," Elyan snapped. "Now get up. You're coming with me."
Alternate chapter title: "In Which the Heroes Collect Several Captives for Interrogation"
Next chapter: February 24. We get a name.
I really, really need to reread this fic, then get back to writing it.