A/N: Aaaand, we're back. 'lo, all. Thanks for the reviews! I must say, I love Merlin. And this post proves that I'm not obsessed with X Men.
(coughlookingatyouSofiacough)
Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't earn Merlin. Or the knights. Sadly.
Camelot had, in less than a day, gone from a city hurrying around preparing for war to a city full of frantic movement and chatter. The tavern was full to bursting, as updates from Sir Elyan were passed through the crowd and down the grapevine.
The King is Dead. Long live the King.
Very few of the common people were deep in mourning. After all, Uther Pendragon's reign had been peppered with wars and executions. The people had been entertained by witch burnings and by the beheading of their neighbors, and while it was good fun at the time, it left the population deeply uneasy. One could never tell who would be next.
King Arthur's reign was looked forward too. Aye, it would start with a war, but it seemed like a war was one of the first things everyone set out to have once they were in power, and this one was for a good cause.
"How dare King Lot bring Saxons back into Albion?" Asked men to each other as they went to blacksmiths for chain mail. "That scum will burn our villages and take our women, then be gone when we need protection!" They continued, as Sir Elyan handed them daggers and nodded, storing away all the mutters of the people. "Thank God for the King-he'll sort them."
"How dare the Saxons enter our waters!" muttered women to each other as they packed food and readied horses. "They'll kill our sons and our husbands, and they'll burn the crops until we've nothing at all for winter!" They continued, as they gathered up spare coin to buy lucky tokens. "Thank God for the King-he'll sort them."
At that moment, the newly crowned King Arthur didn't feel like sorting anything. His father's body had been laid out and bedecked in royal finery, soon to be put in the catacombs. He had done his night's vigil by the bedside as Uther's corpse went stiff, and walked out that morning to be crowned in a hasty ceremony.
He could hardly ride out to war as a Prince. It was decided in a rapid meeting with his advisors, Merlin, and the table, that since they couldn't exactly delay the war now that there were reports of Saxon boats on the river Rhine, his coronation would be done quickly and that the nobles could swear fealty when this was over and they had won.
Arthur wondered if anyone but him had bothered to think that they might not win.
Saxons were big and powerful. King Lot had the most powerful armies in the North. Morgaine was powerful magic. That was all a lot of power for a King still reeling from the fact that his father was dead to go up against.
He hadn't even had time to mourn. The vigil was spent going over tactics and things he had to do. Elsewhere in Camelot that night, families drank to King Arthur, knights confirmed again and again that it was true, Uther was dead, and the Saxons were invading. Elsewhere in Albion, druids murmured to each other that tides were changing and all those who still held magic sighed in relief.
Elsewhere in the vicinity of the palace, one warlock paced and worried.
That warlock was, rather than contemplating losing by meeting immortal troops or by bad stratagem, standing by the side of the new King as Camelot rushed through final preparations, and wondering exactly when a good time to tell Arthur about his warlockness was.
"Arthur?" No time like the present.
"Yes? At least it's nice to know that one person isn't going to start bowing like they want to scrape the floor with their bloody noses." Ah. Perhaps there was a better time than the present after all.
"Well you're being very quiet, and whenever you're quiet I don't whether your brain has finally just shut down and I'm going to have to tell Gwaine that our coup for the throne won't be necessary-" Merlin ducked as Arthur reached out to cuff him. "Ha, missed."
"It's this damn crown. It throws off my balance." Arthur fingered the thing. It was massive and heavy and probably the reason his father started losing hair.
"I'm sure you'll get used to it." Merlin felt it unnecessary to add that Arthur would have to. He shifted his weight. "So, how does it feel to be King?"
Arthur glanced at him. Merlin grinned at him. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"It's bloody terrifying. And my reign is going to start off with a war." Arthur closed his eyes. "I don't want to build a kingdom on bloodshed."
"Well don't." Merlin shrugged. "Have a good war, get it over with, then work on making sure that there's no particular reason to go to war again." Arthur snorted.
"You know Merlin, things are more complicated than that."
"I don't see why. Get yourself a scary reputation, don't provoke anyone, and make sure you don't need anything you have to fight over." Merlin shrugged. It seemed to him that the last couple of times Camelot was attacked it was because magic people were angry with Uther, and as long as he made sure that no magic people were angry with Arthur they'd be fine…and if not, he'd just take care of it.
"Sometimes I wonder if you think you're my advisor, Merlin." Arthur sighed. "Doesn't Gaius have preparations he needs your help with? The two of you will certainly be busy in the medical tents."
"We've been preparing for ages, the wagon with physicians equipment is ready to go." Merlin frowned. "And what do you mean, the two of us in the tent? I'll be with you on the field."
"What?" Merlin blinked at Arthur. "No you will not!"
"Course I will. You'll be with your standard bearer, and have Sir Ector with you, while Leon leads the right flank with Elyan, and Kai leads the left flank. Gwaine leads the troops you want to use to overwhelm the river, and he brings his brothers, while Lancelot rides down from the hill at the last minute to ram a final blow into the tired enemy!" Merlin was pretty sure they had gone over all of this in the last tactics meeting. "And I'm at your side."
"No, you are treating the wounded with Gaius." Merlin waved a hand.
"Gaius has gone a bunch of physicians and healers to help him." In fact, he'd seen Gaius send away for Alice last night. Even without magic, she'd easily make up for Merlin. "What happens if you're wounded on the field, hmm?"
"Then I'm wounded." Merlin nodded emphatically.
"Exactly. You act stubborn and refuse to leave, and no one there will tell you to stop being a prat. I'll make sure that when you refuse to leave the field, you don't need to be carried off on a stretcher at the end of the battle."
"My personal healer." Arthur said quietly. Merlin blushed and wished the term didn't sound so intimate. "And what happens if someone kills you?"
"That won't happen." Merlin flashed him a smile and didn't mention that if anyone tried, he had a very handy ability to stop their heart with a thought. "They'll all be aiming at you!"
"Aren't you meant to be reassuring me? So far all I've heard is that people will be not entirely idiotic and know that I'm the greater threat, and that I'm going to die of an improperly treated wound." Merlin made a huffing noise. Arthur felt loads better.
"Well your Pratness, if you're supposed to ride out in the morning, you need to sleep." Arthur opened his mouth. "Yes, I've seen to your armor and your cloak and your sword. Though there's one thing about your sword I want to talk to you about-"
"You didn't break it did you?"
"No! How do you break a huge piece of steel?"
"I'm sure you're more than capable of it."
"Shut up. That was an accident."
"That was my favorite mace. Speaking of which…"
"Yes, your maces are loaded into the arms wagon. All of your weaponry that you won't be carrying is. All the spare weapons are. Everything is done." Merlin gestured to the stairs from the parapet. "Now will you go to bed?"
"Fine." Arthur grumbled. He let Merlin guide him along to his chambers and undress him, then shove him in the general direction of the bed. Luckily, he hadn't yet had to relocate to the King's chambers.
"Goodnight Arthur." Merlin turned to leave.
"Wait." Arthur called after him. Merlin froze. Was this a good time? "Will you stay awhile?"
"I thought you…" Arthur quickly revised his statement.
"I mean do whatever you do before I fall asleep. Play with sticks or whatever."
Merlin sighed internally. King or Prince, it didn't matter. Arthur wasn't interested.
"Fine, prat." Merlin plopped onto one of the chairs and stole a scrap of paper from the table. The table was littered with documents, and this one, which had something to do with cow, was probably just a copy.
On that piece of paper, Merlin began scribbling down a protective rune. He'd never done anything more than read about runes, but he knew that they were inscribed into things as either a mark of who did whatever spell work was in action, or as a symbol which did the spell itself, no further energy required.
Of course, he didn't actually know any runes. But if you could invent a rune as a signature, you should be able to invent one to protect whoever carried it with them. Such as, say, knights going into battle in such a position that the friendly warlock couldn't protect them himself.
The only problem was the not knowing runes part. Merlin began writing squiggles on the back of the cow parchment. Nothing of import happened.
"I can't believe he's gone." Merlin started violently. Arthur, from his bed, took no notice. "He shouldn't have just slipped away like that. Father was a strong man. A strong King. It's not right that he just succumbs."
"Things happen." Merlin realized he sounded like Gaius. "Arthur, he'd been ill for ages. Maybe he just weakened."
"Or maybe something else." Arthur said darkly. "Maybe a sorcerer made him worsen."
Oh no no no no, not Arthur, not another King who was paranoid about magic, not again…
"Magic killed my mother. It could have come for my father as well." Arthur sounded disturbingly like Uther, when the King sat and mused on what crimes magic had probably been the cause of. "Who knows what the druids could have gotten from their spells, or what spying eyes looked through his window? And if any user of magic knew that their greatest enemy was unable to defend himself…"
"Will you leave that Arthur!" Merlin jumped from the chair. "People who are old and ill die! If you blame magic for every problem all that will happen is that innocent people who couldn't lift a feather with magic will be sent to the block and that whatever is actually causing the problem will fester and grow, and anyone that does have magic and might have wanted to see if they could help Camelot will become your enemy!"
Arthur blinked at him from the bed. Merlin nearly groaned in frustration.
"You said you didn't want a Kingdom founded on bloodshed. Start going after magic users for no reason, at the start of your reign, and that's what you'll get." There was silence in the royal chambers.
"I need to do something." Arthur whispered. Merlin sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Arthur looked very young. Very young and very strong and with no one to blame.
"Sleep for now. Soon you'll have all the bloodshed you could possibly want." Arthur nodded. As Merlin rose, the King grabbed his hand. "Yes?"
"…nothing. You should get some rest." Arthur let Merlin's hand slip away. "And make sure you've got armor."
"Will do." This time, Arthur did not call for Merlin before he left. The King curled up on his side and thought that Merlin had known sorcerers, had been friends with one in a Kingdom where magic was not outlawed, and that maybe his idiot manservant had a point.
When he eventually did fall asleep, he had troubling dreams about blue fire and gold eyes, and a battlefield where all of his soldiers were dying.
Merlin did not obey his King and get much rest that night. He wrote down line after line of random scribbles, and it wasn't until midnight that one, a curl in the shape of a half moon with three interlocking circles over it, lit up gold.
He accepted this as proof that the rune worked. And there was also the fact that when he tried to toss the piece of paper in the fire, it always fluttered away. Merlin signed it with his own mark-a hastily written double curve that looked vaguely like an M and vaguely like a bird, and went to bed.
The night before they departed for the war, no one slept peacefully.
Lancelot, who slept with Gwen's head on his shoulder and one hand on her bare waist, dreamt of a nearly forgotten attack on his village, where his mother screamed and his father pushed him away, frantically telling him to run, run.
Gwen herself dreamt of a funeral. She didn't know whose body was on the pyre, but it might have been Merlin's or Arthur's or Lancelot's, and she ran through the crowd trying to find one of them so she would know it wasn't them, but whenever she thought she saw a glimpse of red it vanished.
Elyan, who had a drab in his bed, was dreaming about his father. The man kept stepping away from him and shaking his head. Elyan, who was smaller than he normally was and didn't have a weapon, ran after him but father kept disappearing into the fire, and whenever his son stepped near it the flames burned him.
Leon had worked long that day, but that did not stop him from turning over in bed and twitching in his sleep as long dead soldiers crept from their graves and shambled towards him, arms outstretched.
Even Gaius's sleep was troubled, as he relived in his mind old wars and old battlegrounds, but now he didn't have the right herbs and the bodies brought into his tent all looked like Uther.
Each son of Morgaine was haunted that night by the same woman. Their mother standing over a pool of blood, waiting, or their mother laughing, or even their mother creeping through Camelot with a knife.
Merlin dreamt of Morgana, unkempt and bloody, hanging in a tree while mists rolled around her and beasts shuffled through the forests around her. Then he was stumbling through those mists and onto a steep hill where many panicked men whispered together. Finally he was at Arthur's side, and Arthur was awake, and for some reason that struck horror in his chest.
Arthur stared at Badon Hill. It had taken only a few days ride to get there. Most of it he'd spent in a foul temper-it was bad enough to be riding off to war, but he'd seen Merlin slipping Gwaine something that looked disturbing like the bits of hanky women always gave their knights for luck.
He was King. Wasn't that supposed to mean that he got what he wanted?
In the case of Merlin, obviously not. Merlin was also staring at the hill, his mouth hanging open.
"I didn't think all of Camelot had this many people." Merlin said incredulously.
The armies of Albion swarmed around Badon Hill. Tents were set up in semi circles around cooking fires, with flags marking the captain's tents. Medical tents were marked by a half moon crest, and around them women dragged buckets of water. In vacant areas, men sharpened swords and whittled new arrows. Blacksmith forges were marked by the sound of hammers, soldiers making quick adjustments to their chain mail. Pallets were set up near fires, where the unfortunate men without tents slept.
At the summit of the hill was a white tent, flying the Pendragon crest.
"We all know that you can't count, Merlin." Arthur clicked his tongue, and his horse began to trot through the camp. Men bowed deeply as he and Merlin passed. It made Arthur feel uneasy.
"Still, Leon said there were a few thousand…" Merlin flashed a grin towards one peasant who had the audacity to wave. Arthur waved back and watched the man's mouth drop open. "This is a hell of a lot more than that."
"Kai and Ector must have marshaled more men than we expected. Pass word to the round table that I want them at the command tent as soon as they've made sure our soldiers are set up." Arthur said. Merlin nodded and leaned back to call to Lancelot, who was closest. Lancelot was fingering the purple ribbon Gwen had given him, and it took two shouts to get his attention.
The war tent was very large. Within, Kai, Ector, and the few other nobles who had not chosen to hide in their castles and send men out to die instead, crowded around a map. Ector looked up, a frown flitting over his features at the sight of Merlin at Arthur's shoulder.
"Your highness." Ector sank to one knee. The rest of the men in the tent did the same. "Let me be the first to swear fealty. Caer Gal will forever be at your service."
"Rise." Arthur said quietly. In the dead silence of the tent, it could have been a shout. "I do not doubt the loyalty of any man present today. I think our time will be better served planning."
"More men have come, sire." Kai had gotten to his feet immediately. "Entire legions of King Lot's forces deserted to us. More flood in each day."
"Huh." That was unexpected. Kai continued, a glow of satisfaction in his eyes.
"I've spread them out in our left and right flanks, to counter the Saxons, rather than the more unseasoned of our troops. Thus far, our supplies of food are sufficient, and the woods near us have game if we need to hunt and scavenge." Kai looked proud.
"You've done an excellent job." Arthur frowned. "What have you heard of Lot's forces?"
"We've got them outnumbered." Kai's lips twitched. "Most of them are only there because they're in terror of Queen Morgaine. King Lot himself is unaccounted for, though reports say Morgaine is skulking in her castle."
"Good." Arthur sighed. "We'll attack tomorrow, when my troops have had a chance to rest."
"You should get some sleep as well." Merlin added. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I assure you Merlin, I'm not tired."
"No Arthur, those bags under your eyes are just natural coloring. Come on, sleep deprivation causes hair loss." Merlin tugged his arm. Arthur sighed and nodded to the nobles.
"We all need to be rested for tomorrow. Dismissed." They filed out. Arthur shot Merlin an irate look. "Do you have to be so annoying?"
"If you want to die, go ahead." Merlin bit his lip. "Arthur, there's this thing I want to talk to you about-"
"If I can't confer with them, you'll have to wait as well." Arthur knew Merlin wanted. He wanted to get Gwaine to a less dangerous position in the field. But Gwaine was a great warrior and they needed him leading that flank. Arthur couldn't run the risk of not having a strong commander.
Or the risk of Merlin convincing him to give Gwaine a safer spot. Merlin had big stupid eyes that looked pleading and stupid and Arthur was two seconds away from just giving in and saying yes, Gwaine can be wherever you want him to be, as long as you're happy.
"Go polish my armor. I'll be in my tent." Arthur pushed past Merlin.
"Who the hell was Arthur's advisor?" muttered Sir Bagdemus to Sir Ector. "No one would ever talk to King Uther that way."
"His manservant." Responded Sir Ector, rubbing his forehead with his hands. Sir Bagdemus choked. "I don't understand either."
"Hmpf." Kai cast them both a dark look. "You miss out on the big picture."
"Do we, my son?" Sir Ector tried his best to sound civil. Kai smirked.
"King Arthur listened to him, and it was good advice." The bulky knight headed towards an armory, to get his sword sharpened. "We should trust that the King is wise enough to know whom he should trust."
Arthur couldn't sleep. His tent was ridiculously comfortable-a bearskin rug was laid over the floor, his sleeping pallet was draped with rich red blankets, and there was an array of food placed on golden trays-but he was wakeful. Quite aside from thinking that whoever arranged this tent intended for him to be sharing it with someone, who knew what Gwaine and Merlin were doing?
Now if Arthur had Merlin, he knew perfectly well what he'd be doing before the battle. The same thing every man in camp who had a willing partner around was doing. Arthur laid his head back and glared at the ceiling of the tent.
He could, if inclined, summon a whore from somewhere, there were always men who knew where to find them, and who'd be eager to serve the new King. Except that he didn't want some loose woman, or man, there had to be at least a few male concubines drifting around here, he wanted Merlin.
Argh. Arthur rolled over and glared at the rug. This was going to be a long night.
Merlin stood behind Arthur's tent, glaring at the stars. Morgaine would try something. She had to see that this battle couldn't possibly go well for her forces. Besides, he couldn't sleep. He was too worried about Arthur. And Gwaine. And Lancelot. And all his other friends amongst the knights.
It wasn't long before he felt magic stirring. Merlin's eyes turned gold as he stared into the North, preparing to counter whatever Morgaine would throw.
There air around him was suddenly full of invisible tension. Men around camp shifted uneasily. Arthur raised his head, abandoning the fantasy he was having about bursting into Gwaine's tent, spearing Gwaine, and carrying Merlin away to be ravished. Gareth winced and whirled his sword. Gaheris went pale, and was thankful they'd left Agrivaine in Camelot. Gwaine got to his feet and went to find Merlin.
Merlin was very much occupied. His eyes now completely gold, he could see a tide of greenish-yellow light racing towards them. It was some sort of curse-not strong, because there were many miles between Orkney and Badon Hill, but it was more than strong enough to lose them the battle.
He put up a hand and concentrated. Morgaine's magic was a tsunami, taller than Badon hill and poised to crash down on the camp. White light, as invisible to the soldiers as Morgaine's curse, coalesced around his hand.
There was a moment, where Merlin's beacon and Morgan's flood were still. Then the wave dropped. Merlin closed his eyes and concentrated on the thought of Arthur being in camp, Arthur's forces dying, and all the world being torn apart by war.
Light around his hand flared into a brilliant opalescent bonfire. It seared into the heart of the wave, tearing it to shreds. The remaining tendrils dissipated, little wisps of greenish light that fell back to Lot's own camp.
Merlin cried out. Morgaine was not pleased. Nor had she been using her full power. Pressure bore down on his mind, unbelievable strength, with more malice than Merlin would have thought any could harbor. He struggled, grasping for the part of his mind where dragons roared.
Suddenly, it was gone. Morgaine yanked away her influence as if she was afraid. Merlin blinked tears from his eyes, listening to the cries that had risen from the camp. He lifted his eyes to the stars in bewilderment. Arthur poked his head from his own tent, frowning, as countless men rushed into the night air and pointed.
A star blazed cross the heavens. Merlin ran around the hilltop to get a better view. He joined Arthur, who was now standing above the camp and staring in stark disbelief. Several nobles, and the servants who were at the top of the hill, were around them.
"The Pendragon Star!" Merlin cried out, pointing. There was a hiss of superstition. "That star which rose over Ambrosius as he claimed Albion for the dragons among men shines over King Arthur tonight!"
"By god…" a man whispered. Merlin laughed aloud.
"By God, the stars themselves are rising for our King!" It was as if he wasn't even himself, but a wild thing of the other world who knew what import this was. This was more than a star, this was a prophecy, a sign of the greatness of the slack jawed man beside him. "This is a sign, of victory! Something to make Morgaine retreat into her swamps, for fear of facing the might of Camelot!"
There was a roar from the people around them. Merlin blinked.
Had he said that out loud?
Apparently. Arthur turned to stare at him, mouth hanging open. Merlin coughed and rubbed his neck. "I was trying to up morale?"
"It certainly worked." Arthur said. Merlin had been speaking loudly. Clearly, soldiers halfway down the hill had heard and were repeating the message to more. Merlin smiled in a relieved sort of way.
"Call it inspiration."
"Merlin!" Gwaine hurried up the hill, looking worried. Merlin flashed him a grin. Arthur blinked. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Merlin said distractedly. Was this a good moment to tell Arthur about his magic? Gwaine was there, so if Arthur immediately stabbed him he'd have someone to leap to his defense…
"Wait…" Arthur frowned. "Gwaine, were you in camp?"
"Yees." Gwaine stared at Arthur, thinking that the Prince really was that thick. "I was trying to find myself a girl."
Arthur felt a burst of fury. How dare Gwaine make jokes that, right in front of Merlin?
"Gwaine…" Arthur gritted his teeth. Merlin glanced between them. What in the world had angered Arthur now?
"I'm just going to go…not be here, yeah, bye, Arthur go to sleep." Merlin ducked away, hurrying through groups of servants that drew away from him. He was too busy to notice their awestruck gazes.
Arthur grabbed Gwaine and hauled him into the tent.
"How can you treat Merlin that way?" Arthur demanded. Gwaine pushed the King's hand off his shoulder.
"How can you?" Arthur glared at Gwaine.
"I tell you, if I was you, I'd be keeping Merlin in my bed the day before a battle, not going off to find some woman!" Gwaine crossed his arms.
"Then go find him. It would take a load off my mind." Arthur's mouth opened and closed.
"But…aren't you and he…" Gwaine rubbed his forehead. How was this the man Merlin insisted would wisely rule all of Albion?
"No, Arthur. Because we're friends. And because you and he are hopelessly besotted with one another and too stupid to do something about it." Arthur's eyes had become enormous. Gwaine grinned and clapped his shoulder. "I don't know how you didn't see that before, mate. Lancelot and I have been trying to drill it into your head for awhile."
Oh. That made many things make sense.
"So, I'm going to go." Gwaine said slowly. Just to see what would happen, he waved a hand in front of Arthur's face. No response. Huh. He hoped he hadn't just fried the brain of the King of Camelot, that probably would be bad for the upcoming battle.
A/N: Review? Please?