AN: Thanks all who even just bothered to check this fic out! Even though, comparatively, I'm not getting that many reviews/favs/follows, I'm still very happy that my work is simply getting read! Here is another chapter, in the 'present' this time. Read on!
Now...
Merlin couldn't believe his eyes. He stood there, mouth hanging open, eyes widening.
Then, all of a sudden, he shut his mouth and plastered an innocent look on his face, smiling idiotically, the way Arthur remembered so well.
"What business could the king of Camelot have with a lowly warlock like me?" Merlin asked. Arthur winced slightly at both the terms king and warlock. His father's death was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn't - didn't - want to believe what has friend had told him, revealed to him...
Dropped on him like a ton of bricks.
"We need to talk." Was all the King said. The warlock peered carefully around Arthur's imposing figure filling the small doorway, and saw Leon and Percival hanging back.
"By all means," Merlin said, "do come in. I take it you got my message?"
Arthur turned round for barely a moment, to wave to his knights, before entering his former manservant's humble abode. The space was small and cluttered with books and bottles and herbs hanging from the ceiling. It reminded Arthur of Gaius's chambers, but when the King looked at these dusty tomes the writing was written in gold paint and the letters were unfamiliar to him. They were magic books.
"I thought my father had burned all of these... magic books." There were many words synonymous to magic in the King's vocabulary. Treacherous, Dangerous, destroyed, long-lost, horrible, not to be trusted...
"They're from the druids." Merlin said. "They'll do anything for their Emrys." Arthur thought the warlock sounded a little bitter, but he didn't really get what Merlin was saying anyways. There was so much he wanted to know.
The warlock strode into the kitchen, where Freya was sitting, frozen at the table. She looked frightened, remembering the last time she had seen Arthur's face, on the other end of a pointed sword. Though Merlin had since told her every story of clotpole, funny, embarrassed, honorable Arthur Pendragon, those initials fears will always be there. The reason the curse will never really leave her. Arthur seemed to regard her in a careful manner, guarded and unsure, his hand resting on his sword. His blond hair glinted in the sunlight and ruffled in the breeze. He would be charming and good-looking, but all Freya could see when she looked at him was the resemblance to his father in the sharpness of his gaze and the hardness of his eyes, he seemed cold and calculating to her even when he was being honest and frank.
"What do you want to talk about?" Merlin asked. There was a tense moment where nobody spoke. Then,
"Did you cook all this food, Merlin? And you couldn't have brought me something like this when you worked for me?" Arthur asked, eyes incredulously roaming the table. Freya stifled a chuckle.
"I didn't cook this food, sire. And unless I wanted to be beheaded, I couldn't have given you similar cuisine." Merlin said, also stifling a chuckle. Arthur's eyes widened.
"You conjured this? I thought that wasn't possible."
"Of course it's possible! You really don't know much about magic, do you?"
It was hard for Arthur, hearing his friend so flippantly mentioning magic and talking of conjuring a feast as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"But... then why did you never heal yourself?"
There was another tense moment.
"You'd have chopped my head off." Merlin reminded him, a little sadly. Arthur considered this. Merlin sat at the table and examined what he'd conjured, looking for something specific.
"Did I really forget the sausages?" He said, almost to himself. Freya, who was feeling a little more relaxed, searched the table.
"I think you did." She said, quietly. It was the first time Arthur heard her speak, her voice soft and sweet, like ripe strawberries. Merlin shrugged. His eyes glowed and sausages appeared in his hand.
"Here." He said, handing one to Freya before munching one himself.
"There must have been some times when I wasn't there." Arthur concluded.
"Well there were... other reasons." Merlin said, looking at his toes. He sounded a little embarrassed.
"What other reasons?" Arthur asked, sitting down at the table. Merlin fidgeted a little before answering.
"I'm rubbish at healing."
And they all laughed.