A prince's best friend
Chapter 5: In which Morgana and Her Minions' Wicked, Strange Plots starts to surface

'Hi Gaius. It's been awhile, sorry I haven't come to see you earlier,' Merlin said as he hopped onto the table.

The physician was leaning over a book, but looked up at the sudden noise. "Wha… Merlin! You can speak!"

'Yes, I noticed that just about an hour ago.' He saw that Eyebrow Look again. 'Yes, yes, I'm being careful! I haven't made a noise around anyone except Arthur…and, ummm… the knights Bors, Leon, Gareth and Gwaine. But no one else, I swear!'

"The knights? They know?"

'Yes, but it'll work out fine, don't worry. They won't tell anyone…Well, umm, Morgana knows too but she keeps it a secret. But I've found a spell that (I think) can turn me back to normal!'

"You have? Thank heavens. But Merlin, how come you are in this state? Be honest with me, please."

'It was an accident! I was just looking through my magic book the other day, you know in case I found something useful for the future, and I guess…I fell asleep, I must've had some spell stuck on my mind and using my magic in my sleep – and you know the rest.'

"You have to consider stopping to read that book before going to bed, then. I do not want anything like this happening again. Using such powerful magic in your sleep…" The old man rubbed is temples. (What ever should I do with you, Merlin? Such aching troubles to worry this old soul. Young ones… What his heart went through for the young warlock's sake.) "You must be careful."

Merlin didn't want to be lectured so he announced, 'I'm going to try and change back now.' and jumped off the table, to the center of the room. Gaius quickly closed the door and covered all windows, while the warlock started gathering his magic, hoping it wouldn't malfunction. Quietly he began to chant the words he'd imprinted earlier that day, ancient words which rolled easily off his tongue.

To his disappointment, when he opened his eyes again, nothing had happened. Nothing appeared to happen for several minutes, either. No swirling lights or sounds or anything. Gaius muttered something darkly and began looking through his books and scrolls again, some of which were really dusty and looked like they'd been borrowed from the library.

Merlin tried again. He could clearly feel the surge of magic in his veins and then the air around him, but there wasn't a single movement, not a speck of light, no change whatsoever in his form. Paws, tail, ears and fur remained as he continued to sit there on the floor, waiting.

After the fifth or sixth time he just had to give up.

'Maybe it wasn't the correct spell…Maybe there's something else out there.'

Gaius nodded in agreement. "I have searched and found several interesting things, but no spell seems to match our desires. This one for example," he patted one of the texts lying before him, "would turn the spell-caster into their earliest original state, in other words a newborn child. (I am not going to babysit you.) This one helps to remove unusual diseases …though I doubt this can be labeled an illness. Another spell requires a rite with a pair of hare-feet, the hair of a troll and some old runes (this sounds really interesting!) and three people casting the spell, to shift people's appearances – it sounds rather useful (pity we don't have any trolls around) … But try not to worry too much, Merlin. I'll continue to search."

'Thanks Gaius,' Merlin said, feeling much gloomier than since being turned into a cat. When finding that spell he'd been really, really hopeful and his steps much lighter, now it felt like a bunch of rocks had suddenly been dumped on him. What was he going to do now?

The dragon…Could he talk to it? He'd sworn not to speak to it again, since its advice almost killed his mother, but…He needed help. The dragon was old and wise, it probably knew a spell or something. It maybe had magic enough to reverse his state fully. Should he do it?

It was rather nice to be a cat, with the attention and the food, but as a cat he couldn't protect the prince. And he had to be able to protect Arthur.

That settled it. He couldn't solve this on his own, and he'd rather not be sorry about being too late to protect Arthur if danger arose. He had to go to the dragon.

'I suppose I should go back to Arthur…' Merlin said to Gaius. 'He gets all angry whenever I wander off on my own. Like I'm some baby who can't look after myself. Stupid prat, who is it that can't look after himself, not even dress himself properly?'

The physician smiled oddly. "I'm sure. Go to him. I'll see what I can find."

()()()

The look on the dragon's face as he stepped down into the cave…! Merlin would never forget it.

Despite of swearing not to speak to it again, he decided to come down here: now he regretted it. The dragon had been about to probably berate him or something for coming, but paused at the sight of him.

Kilgarrah laughed. For a long sound echoed against the rocky walls, startling at first since the warlock wasn't used to hearing him laugh; actually he couldn't recall the dragon being amused enough to make such a sound before, except that first time they met. After sometime, though, Merlin rolled his eyes. Honestly, the dragon had such a breath…It'd been laughing nonstop for two minutes.

'It's not funny,' Merlin the cat whined, annoyed. Being this tiny was gave real disadvantage when facing an at least 30 feet tall beast that can breathe fire (especially since his magic malfunctioned); normally he felt small but now he was almost breaking his neck by craning it so much to be able to look at the dragon's face. Frustrating was the word. And the dragon's laugh. Did it have to laugh so much? His predicament wasn't that amusing.

'Can you help me turn back into a human? I've tried a spell, but it didn't work.'

"Young warlock," the great (to normal people intimidating but to Merlin annoying) creature said once his laughter had died. "Oh it is amusing. It is."

(Some more chuckling inserted here.)

Merlin had an urge to throttle someone.

'Come on! Please, you got to help me. How can I fulfill my destiny and protect Arthur as a cat?'

The dragon chuckled some more, then coughed, getting more serious as Arthur and Destiny was mentioned. The words had that kind of effect on him.

"But you are right, young warlock, of course. Your powers are both restricted and chaotic in this form."

'So how do I get back to normal?'

"Remember: for the coin has two sides and neither can exist without the other, the night cannot be without the day. Thus you will need the other half's aid to become whole again. The magic which has struck you has a strong, deep core and forcing it all away will be intricate, indeed. More so than you can now realize. Willpower is also very necessary!"

'...How do you mean? Arthur's going to make me normal, how? I don't—'

"With these tools you will return to your old self at the prince's side, and fulfill your destiny." With that, the dragon spread his wings and lifted from the outcropping, chain clinkering as Kilgarrah flew out of sight.

'Hey! Wait!'

But the dragon didn't answer.

'Well that was helpful,' Merlin muttered. 'Coins, halves…I need a spell or something! How can Arthur help me? He doesn't have any magic…And what was that about willpower? That was rather new though…could that help me? EXPLAIN WHAT I GOT TO DO, PLEASE!'

But his voice had returned: did this mean Arthur had helped him in some way with one step to return back to normal? Like when the prince hid him from the king and they searched together for a cure? What did this mean…? The dragon was so bloody cryptic. Merlin hated all those riddles. Couldn't Kilgarrah speak plainly just for once?

()()()

"No. Wait. I've changed my mind," Bors said pushing himself and the chair he sat upon away from the table.

In front of him were two other knights, a lady and her handmaiden. It was late evening, the dark had started to fall, and the odd group was gathered around a table in the corner of a dank tavern, each nursing a drink. Some of them had had more than one drink, while Gwen, the handmaiden, nervously sat there without drinking anything at all. The revelation of the servant-turned-cat was just a couple of hours old.

Gwaine had already had time to think, make up something, and chatter with Morgana about it, and drag them all to the tavern.

Gareth was not surprised. Well a bit about the lady herself and her handmaiden, Guinevere if he remembered correctly, being there in person.

"Come on! It'll be fun." Oh yes, 'fun'. Gwaine flashed a smug grin: "Besides, you have already sworn secrecy."

"We'll be disowned, thrown out of the city and banished if this goes wrong. Possibly executed due to the prince's mere wrath. Should we really ki-?" Bors began to say but Gwaine cut him off.

"Shh, it's supposed to be a secret."

"Not much longer," Gareth mumbled, sighing on his breath, before turning back to his brother. "I still feel doubtful about this. It doesn't feel…right on the poor boy."

"We have to gain a reaction from the prince! What other way is there to do it?" Gwaine exclaimed, slapping the table. "It's a perfect opportunity, and we won't actually hurt anyone."

"What if we get seen?"

Gwaine looked at him like he'd grown another head. "We are knights, brother dear. We answer to the king and the prince. No guard would remark about it: they won't bother; we have more authority than them. We'll mask ourselves of course so the prince can't recognize us. Don't worry. It'll work out perfectly."

"Moreover," lady Morgana shot in, "you have me on your side. Do not worry, gentlemen, Uther won't suspect a thing."

Gwen glanced at her mistress and friend. "They have denied it for such a long time; we have to make prince Arthur make a move. Merlin wouldn't dare…I think, I mean, he's very shy about the whole thing and refuses to admit anything…whenever I talk to him, that is…" She blushed a bit, realizing she was babbling again. To her defense it was nervous to sit with some high-status knights and speak of plans more-or-less against (well, not really against against) the Crown Prince of Camelot.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Bors said, bemoaning his bad luck at ending up agreeing to listening to the plan in the first place and getting dragged into this mess, bemoaning his ill choice of friends. Oh yes he should never, ever had gone to the tavern with the two brothers, he should have gone home and written a letter to his mother and vented his anguish.

Gwaine was grinning like a maniac (so typical). Gareth wondered if the lady Morgana had perhaps bribed him with food, fine wine, gold or something else to get him to agree. On second thoughts, maybe not. The man had been gushing over the prince and servant like a girl for months (well, maybe…hmm, not quite like a girl, but like a fangirl, always yammering about them a.k.a the Prince of Camelot and His Manservant Who Were Probably With High Possibility In Love with Each Other and How To Get Them Together which was a bit ridiculous to all the other knights.) Which Gareth found both amusing and annoying. But Gwaine hadn't put any plans into action to get them together until now.

Bors buried his face in his hands, despairing. Arthur was going to have their heads.

A deal was a deal though. They're knights and have sworn upon this pact, and a knight cannot be so dishonourable that they pull out of it.

()()()

For a moment Merlin hesitated: should he really go back to Arthur's chambers? He'd planned to spend the night on his own rooms. But now the spell had failed, and he was still a cat, he didn't feel so keen on returning to Gaius, and sleeping alone.

He was still a cat, so what harm could it do? He might as well use this time while he still had it. The prince didn't protest anymore when he acted cuddly, and it was really nice to lie next to Arthur. The man's warm husky presence was always so safe. (He'd have to admit, he'd miss being able to be so close to Arthur once he got back to normal.)

Plus, what the dragon had said had made him think: if Arthur's presence and help could make him normal, he'd spend all the time it took near Arthur's side even if the prince got all obnoxious and condescending.

Merlin continued down the hallway, when suddenly, this strange feeling came over him. Like he was being watched. Cautiously, with sharp eyes, he looked left, right, over his shoulder. The corridor was dark and shadowed, but he had some kind of night-vision as a cat: the colours were off, greenish, but he could see details. But there was nothing…Maybe he was imagining things. His nose scrunched up, he smelled something, but couldn't place it. (It smelled a bit like…stables, but this was the middle of the castle, that's really odd.)

There wasn't even a patrolling guard.

Wait! Sound. His ears twitched. Footsteps? But there corridor seemed so empty.

Too late did he realize that it were footsteps and a hushed voice, which quickly silenced completely. Something – some kind of fabric – was thrown over his head. He couldn't see. Unfamiliar hands lifted him up, there was sudden lurching movements as his captor – captors? – began undoing his neckerchief for some reason.

Eek! What was happening? His magic malfunctioned; he couldn't grasp it. He started to panic for real.

He reacted. Suddenly and violently. Which was understandable.

()()()

When his doors suddenly were thrown open Arthur was startled out of his thoughts. His very bored thoughts, as he was alone and had absolutely nothing to do, no servant to order around and be bemused by as they stumbled.

"Guinevere? What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked. The handmaiden looked distressed, distracted.

"Sire! It's urgent! You have to help!"

A sudden chill grasped his spine, his hand inching closer to the hilt of his sword. A warning echoed in the back of his head. This feeling of foreboding came over him.

"What is it?"

"I found this lying in the hallway," the woman said, shaking a bit, worry etched on her face and she held out a piece of red cloth. "I think…Merlin is missing. Gaius bumped into me in a corridor, asking if I'd seen him, but neither I nor lady Morgana can find him. It's rather late; he should've returned to his or your chambers shouldn't he? But then, then we found…"

Merlin's neckerchief. Stained at the edges. Stained…it couldn't be blood. But it was. Dark stains. It must be.

Arthur's chest contracted painfully, painfully, Merlin can't have been…!

"I have to find him!" he gasped, momentarily losing his composure. He quickly grasped his sword and marched out of the room, practically dragging Morgana with him. "Where exactly did you find this?" Arthur doesn't notice he's holding the neckerchief so hard in one fist, he can't let it go.

She led him to an alcove in a corridor one must pass to get between his chambers and Gaius' rooms. Arthur feels this strange, burning kind of fear and worry mixed with anger at whoever had dared to, dared to-! He's not used to this feeling and doesn't want to acknowledge it at first, but Merlin could be in real trouble, in real danger. Alarm bells went off in his head, refusing to leave him alone.

He found a piece of black clawed-at cloth tucked in the corner of the alcove and beneath it a small, crumbled note.

"Look," he said, showing it the Gwen.

"Oh," she gasped; her face difficult to read. "Are you sure you should go? Alone? Do you want to alert the king? Should I fetch lady Morgana, sire?"

"Of course! I won't let those bastards hurt Merlin!" The words were heated. He's too anxious and angry to even be embarrassed to reveal so much to her. "I'm going now. My father would only try and stop me. Swear to keep silent about this."

Gwen bit her lip, and then curtseyed. "I will not speak a word if that's what you wish, sire. Be careful."

Arthur dashed out of the corridor, out of the citadel and the city, slipping past a guard on duty who seems oddly distracted, into the edge of the woods.

()()()

Those claws were nasty. Yes, yes indeed. Gareth would never look at an innocent looking kitten the same way ever again, knowing or not their true identity. True, Merlin was probably panicked or scared, maybe both; he had a good reason to try and fight. Squirming and yowling and biting, through the fabric which they had covered his head with to – maybe – calm him. It didn't seem to work. They meant no harm to the boy but how where they to tell him that without revealing their identities?

Ouch!

Nasty, nasty claws.

Yes, indeed, this was the last time Gareth was ever helping his evil, evil brother. He felt pity for the small creature struggling in his grip, but this was necessary for their plan.

"What's taking you?" Bors hissed at Gwaine.

Gwaine opened the cap of the small bottle. He had required it from lady Morgana; it was a sleeping draught, which she had liberated from Gaius. She was in a position where she could easily ask for such things without anyone suspecting anything. Also, it was harmless and would, without pain, cause the cat-boy to sleep for a few hours undisturbed.

That was the plan at least. They'd been a bit too hasty to come up with a back-up plan in case things went wrong…

"I told you," Gareth said sighing heavily when finally they had managed to subdue the cat and make it drink that surely foul tasting drink. "Bad idea."

Lady Morgana herself suddenly appeared in the alcove. "Risky move, I agree," she said sharing such an Evil look with Gwaine that Gareth shuddered. It was time to play her part now.

"He might not look it, but he's definitely a fighter," Gareth gasped, nursing an aching hand as the cat slumped.

"Oh, I know." In one hand she grasped a piece of red cloth, the neckerchief from the cat's neck. She gathered her skirts in her other fist, still smiling like that, and turned away from the masked men, unrecognizable as they wore old, dirty brown and black tunics and trousers and had thrown some torn black cloaks over their shoulders for effect. "Thank you, gentlemen."

As the lady disappeared from sight, Gareth turned to Gwaine. "Are you sure this will do anything to 'help' and not just send us to the executioner's block?"

"We will have to reveal ourselves in the end…or may have, if not the lady interferes. But do not worry, brother dear."

"Prince Arthur is fearsome when he is angry, though," Bors muttered from the back of the group.

They began to make their way out of the city.