"He led us on a hell of a chase." Leon flashed Guinevere a grateful smile as she pressed a cup of mulled wine into his hands. "Every time he stopped, Merlin laid down half a dozen false trails. We had to stop each time the path split, take time to find the right one- I tried to point us down the wrong ones, but Pynell trusts his dogs more than he does me. Another time, we had to take the long way around a giant deadfall, while Merlin had gone through it, straight as you please. I thought we were going to lose him there, and then again at the stream, but. . . " Leon shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "He was getting tired. I could tell. He was getting sloppy. I suppose if Pynell hadn't had his longbow to hand, I'd be telling a different story."
"You did what you could, Leon. Thank you," Arthur said from his place by the fire.
"I wish I could have done more," the knight said as he stared into the depth of his wine. "I thought he was dead when we looked over that crag. Then he moved and Pynell decided to put another arrow in him. Merlin did something to it, because it seemed to hit something mid-flight and went off into the rocks. That's when Pynell put up a howl and set the dogs on him. God." Leon shuddered and looked up at the prince, his eyes haunted, "They were on him, Arthur. The first dog was about to tear out his throat. And then. . . there was this wind out of nowhere, and Merlin was gone. Not a trace left behind except that broken arrow. And a lot of blood."
Leon went quiet, downing half his wine in a single draught as though it would wash away the day's memories. "Pynell kept up the search until the rain started and wiped everything away. We got back not long ago, and he went straight to the king. I told him I'd see to the horses."
"That didn't take long," Gwaine scoffed, "You sure we're not going to end up with a stable full of sick horses in the morning?" The brash knight had retreated further into the shadows as Leon told his tale, his mood growing darker in turn.
"The horses are fine. I saw to it that the stable hands looked after them. Lucan found me straight away and told me to come here."
"Thank you, Leon. I know you did what you could." Arthur said before Gwaine could find another angle to criticize Leon from. Sometimes the prince wondered who Gwaine was more loyal to- the crown he had sworn his oaths to, or the sorcerer who had brought him to Camelot in the first place.
"What do we do now?" Guinevere's voice quavered, "Even if Merlin is safe wherever he is, your father won't stop. People with magic haven't been hiding the way they used to, and even the Druids are more visible than they used to be. Your father. . ."
"My father will burn every last one of them. He'll unleash a second Purge on Camelot, and no one will be safe." Arthur turned away from them to stare into the fire, keeping his chin up and a shiver from running down his spine by sheer force of will. It had not been so terribly long since pyres had lit up the main square, and the screams of the dying drowned out the roar of the flames.
They were all waiting for him, he knew. Waiting for his plan to deal with the next days, to find Merlin, to make things right again. He wished he had a plan for any one of those three things instead of the rabbitish plan building in his mind since Leon had told them of Merlin's escape. "Elyan," he finally turned back to the rest of them, "Is there anyone outside the city that you and Guinevere can stay with until things settle down again?"
The siblings exchanged worried glances. "We have friends of the family in Longstead, in the Feorre Mountains- John and Mary," Elyan said, "Why? Do you mean to send us away?"
"For your own safety, yes." Arthur held Guinevere's gaze for a long moment. "He believed you guilty of sorcery once. If he sees you again, he might remember that and accuse you again. I won't let that happen." She swallowed back her tears and nodded her acceptance of the idea. So brave, she was. Sometimes even more than Arthur himself. "Will you go with them, Percival?" He asked without looking away from her. "I don't like it when my knights travel alone, and I doubt the people of Longstead would mind having two knights of Camelot protecting them for a time."
"Of course, Sire. When should we leave?"
"At first light. Earlier, if you can. And you three," he looked at Lucan, Lancelot, and Gwaine in turn, "I want you to go north. I need eyes I can trust on the border with Amata."
"What!" Gwaine barked as he surged out of the shadows, "Now that things are getting a little harder, you want us to run away? Skulk about like spies in the middle of nowhere?"
Lucan locked a hand on Gwaine's shoulder and shoved him back against the wall. "Shut your mouth and listen for once, lad. Your prince is making sense."
"Where's the sense in it?"
"You're common-born, and I knighted you, Gwaine," Arthur said, "There is a. . . a madness growing in my father, and if he cannot vent his anger on Merlin, he'll turn his eye on anyone else near me who doesn't meet with his approval. Do you want to face the headsman for conspiring with a sorcerer? No?" he leveled a steely gaze at Gwaine until his reasoning finally cut through the knight's anger. "Then you'll head north with Lucan. It's not as though I'm sending you to a pleasure garden in Nemeth. The Sarrum deals harshly with Camelot's agents when he finds them within his lands, so stay on this side of the border and stay out of sight."
He waited until Gwaine finally nodded his assent and then looked over at Lancelot. "Does this meet with your approval?" Lancelot had nothing to add but a nod. "Good. Leon, you have the advantage of having been knighted by my father and coming from one of the first families of Camelot, but you'd do well to keep your head down, too."
"I'm sure there are some preparations that need attending to before winter comes. And my sister complains that I don't spend enough time at home," Leon gave Arthur a humorless smile.
Arthur nodded and studied each of them in turn, noting the fear and the worry in their eyes. And the determination on every face. It sparked a bit of hope within him, to know that even in these suddenly dark times, his men- and his lady- were without question. 'And I can only hope that it's not to a fault.'
"How will we know when it's safe to return?" asked Guinevere.
"When a new king sits the throne of Camelot," Gwaine spoke up first, matching Arthur's stern look with one of his own. "Don't give me that look, Arthur. You know it's true. Your father won't stop until he thinks he's found every last sorcerer and killed them, and by then Camelot will be a kingdom of corpses. There's your darkest hour."
"Well, they say the darkest hour comes just before the dawn," Lucan said, not quite voicing the thought on everyone's mind: for Camelot to be safe once more, Uther would have to die. Arthur blanched at the idea; it was a nightmarish trade- his people for his father. Lucan interrupted the prince's thoughts with a clap on the shoulder and a vaguely reassuring smile before calling back to Lancelot and Gwaine, "Come on, lads. We've an early morning ahead of us and preparations to make." They followed reluctantly, clasping hands with the prince one last time before disappearing into the darkness and the rain.
"We should prepare, as well, if we're to ride out at dawn." Guinevere took Arthur's hand. He drew her close. Elyan, Leon, and Percival did their best to pretend they were somewhere else. "Promise me you'll be careful?"
"I'll try," he smirked, wrapping his arms around her waist as she rested her head against his chest. Arthur closed his eyes, memorizing all her details- the warm, sweet scent of her hair, the feeling of her breathing, the taste of her kiss. . . "Take care of yourself, too. I couldn't bear to lose you," he said when he finally drew away, whispering the last into her ear. Tears rolled down her cheeks when she looked up at him, and he brushed them away. "Here, now. Don't do that. It won't be so bad. You'll still have Elyan to beat up on."
That put a reluctant smile on her lips. "Here," she said pulling a ribbon out of her hair, letting it fall in dark waves down her back, "A knight is supposed to have his lady's favor, isn't he?" Arthur let her tie it around his wrist, for once not commenting on how ridiculous the pale blue ribbon looked there. She was right. A knight needed to wear his lady's favor, even if it would have to be hidden away too soon. "You keep that safe. It's my favorite, and I'll want it back."
"It'll be safe as houses," Arthur promised, grimacing as the city bells tolled midnight. "I should go. They'll be wondering where I am. Send word if you can- as secretly as you can- when you reach Longstead," he said as much to Elyan and Percival as to Guinevere.
"We'll try," she promised. She shuffled about for a moment before finding his cloak, half-dried, and helped him drape it across his shoulders while Elyan did the same for Leon.
"Be careful, all three of you. Should anything happen to my father, or. . . to me, I have a feeling word will spread quickly enough. And keep them out of trouble for me, will you?" he asked Guinevere.
The reluctant smile returned, "I'll do my best."
He did his best to smile at her before closing the door behind him. It felt fake, like his face was about to crack and fall off or dissolve in the rain, but it was the best he had to offer her. The sound of the latch falling shut was like a death knell. Arthur shuddered and took a breath to steady himself before stepping into the rain.
They hunched against the downpour as they hurried down the street. Leon turned to look back at Arthur once they reached the relative cover of the citadel wall. "They'll be all right. Sending them out of harm's way was the best thing you could have done. You father would hound them to no end, otherwise. You had nothing but bad choices, Arthur."
"I know," Arthur said, "I just wish I didn't have to send them away to protect them from their King."