A/N: You guys have been asking for Arthur so HERE HE IS! And, many of you will be extremely pleased to find, no more of Kara's POV as her flashbacks have now caught up with the current storyline.
Arthur resisted the urge to slouch in his chair or toss the crown from his head in frustration, resigning himself to just gritting his teeth until they squeaked against each other. The air in the council chamber was thick and stuffy from so much time with the doors firmly shut and all the hot air that was coming out of its occupants, but they had not made much progress. So far it had been a lot of veiled comments and discreetly pointed fingers, which Arthur couldn't do much about without calling out individuals and causing even more offense.
"For one kingdom to have a monopoly on a skill or trade while the others languish in its absence is not to be tolerated," Odin was saying for the sixth time in new but similar words. "And it is even more deplorable for one kingdom to employ such tradesmen beneath its own laws and without the knowledge of her allies."
"For the last time, Odin, I did not knowingly employ anyone," Arthur said, without much hope of actually being heard this time. "What Merlin did for Camelot he did of his own volition and without sanction of the crown."
"And yet you do not condemn him for his treason," Odin shot back. "Instead you laud him as a hero and tear down decades of your father's work in an instant. I suppose we should have expected such treachery from you, considering the acts you've committed in the past, but—"
"And what acts would those be?" Sarrum asked, leaning forward on the table. "If you speak at all, you should speak plainly."
"Yes, Odin," Annis said. "There is nothing to be gotten from conversations held at cross-purposes."
"As if you don't know exactly what sort of acts I mean," Odin sneered at her. "Your husband was lost on the end of Pendragon's blade just like my son was. The man pays no heed to—"
"I hold no bitterness over Caerleon's death," Annis said. "And I do not let my grief for him cloud my judgment of the matters at hand. How long has it been since Orion's passing? Thirteen years? Fourteen?"
"The time passed means nothing," Odin snarled. "His blood remains on Arthur's hands!"
"And it will never wash off," Arthur cut in. "I know that. I did not want to kill your son, but he backed me into a corner and refused to yield the duel. You know that, Odin, and you have known it since the day it happened. I gave Orion every opportunity to submit with his honor intact and he chose not to take that path. He chose to fight to the death, and yet you continue to blame me as if it were cold-blooded murder."
"It was! You killed my son!" Odin shouted, banging his fist on the table.
Percival at Arthur's back shifted, gripping the hilt of his sword in warning, and many of the knights around the room did the same. Arthur held up a hand to forestall them.
"Yes, I did," he said simply. "And it was on your orders and your coin that my father met his end."
Odin paled. Arthur had never retaliated after Uther's untimely death; he must have assumed that the assassination had never been traced back to him. He sat back in his seat, eyeing the surrounding knights with much more caution.
"I would be well within my rights to have you arrested right here and now for what you did back then," Arthur said.
A dull sort of hatred still burned in his chest when he remembered the weight of his father in his arms, the way his chest hitched, the heat of his blood soaking Arthur's shirt. Had it not been for the debacle with the old sorcerer—whom he now knew to have been Merlin in disguise—Arthur would have ridden out against Odin with an army at his back, but ultimately he was grateful that he had not taken that path; it would only have caused more violence, more casualties, more ill-will between kingdoms who should have stood together.
"But I will not do that," he declared. "We have both lost much at the other's hand. We need not lose any more. I have put my anger and my grief to rest, Odin, and I beg you to do the same. There are far more important matters at hand than a decade-old feud that should never have been in the first place."
Arthur pushed himself to his feet to address the room at large. "I know that the lot of us have not always been on the best of terms," he said, his voice echoing around the chamber. "For any number of reasons, both political and personal. But I ask you now to put all that aside for just a moment and to come together with open minds. We need not be at odds if we simply place a little bit of faith in each other as fellow men—and women," he added with a nod to Annis, who nodded back graciously.
"Faith?" Alined asked. "Bah! How can we trust a man who has lied about so many things and betrayed his own laws?"
"I did no such thing," Arthur insisted. "I give you my word not only as a king, but as a knight of the realm and a man of honor. Whether or not you choose to believe that that means something is up to you, but I give it freely. I tell you once more that I did not sanction the use of magic in my kingdom, whether for defensive purposes or for use against my enemies."
"You expect us to believe that you truly had no knowledge of your servant's doings?" Bayard asked, rapping his knuckles against the tabletop.
"No, I didn't. He went to great lengths to keep his activities from me," Arthur said. "I was blind to his secrets and his half-truths. I will admit to being taken for something of a fool, but I will not say that my trust in him was misplaced because it wasn't. He has always been and continues to be my staunchest ally, one who has saved my life and defended my kingdom of his own will too many times to count, and I cannot repay that debt with ignorance and prejudice against his kind."
"He's a sorcerer!" Odin said. "There's a reason that Uther strove to wipe them out. They're dangerous creatures, far too dangerous to be allowed to live."
"You would kill a man for something he hasn't done? For his potential alone?" Arthur asked, putting his palms on the table and leaning toward him "You would take an innocent man, one who has done nothing to harm anyone, and strike him down because he might one day in the near or distant future do something?"
Odin shifted in his seat, looking a tad uncomfortable with the bluntness of the question. "Those with magic have a power that cannot be curtailed," he argued stubbornly. "And they exercise it over other men's lives. What right have they to such a power?"
"Can the same not be said of us?"
The other monarchs all around the table exchanged looks, some curious and others apprehensive.
"We are each of us the most powerful people in our respective kingdoms," Arthur said, making sure to look each and every one of them in the eye. "We alone have the right to decide who in our kingdoms lives and who dies. We alone wield the ultimate authority over our subjects, and no one can challenge us. What right have we to such power?"
"Our authority is God-given," Bayard said.
"The divine right of kings," Arthur agreed. "But what is a warlock's power if not god-given? He is born with the ability inside him; he does not ask for it, he does not seek it out, he does not fight for the right to bear it. It simply exists within him, to be utilized how he sees fit, as we are born with our crowns waiting to be donned."
"It's not the same," Alined said. "We as sovereigns are beholden unto our people. Sorcerers are beholden to no one."
"Do they not hold the same responsibility to their fellow man that the rest of us do?" Arthur asked, sweeping an all-encompassing gesture around the room, getting nods from Percival and Elyan and the rest of his men. "We as human beings must each do the best we can by those around us, and sorcerers are no different in that regard. They are men and women like you and me, simple people with gifts above and beyond the average. They must choose what to do with those gifts, as must we all."
"Your analogy is flawed," Odin said. "Magic is a corruptive force, we all know that. Those who use it soon lose themselves to its darkness."
"Power of any nature corrupts," Arthur said in a tone that brooked no argument. "Whether it be magical or political, physical or financial, or any other sort. We all fight against the temptation to use our authority for our own selfish gain, and none of us here are innocent of that sin. But for the most part we resist, and we work for the sake of our people. Why is it so difficult for us to believe that a sorcerer could do the same?"
No one answered him. The room was very quiet, all eyes on him. He let the question settle into their minds for a long moment as the silence stretched.
"Can a man in a position of power not care for those beneath him?" he asked. "Can he not seek to honor and protect them? Is it not possible for a man with power to use that power for the betterment of those around him?"
"I suppose it is," Annis said, watching him with eyes narrowed, though she did not sound skeptical.
"You all take Merlin's dishonesty as a sign of a malevolent nature," Arthur said. "You take his lies as a symptom of the degeneration of his spirit. And yet his actions speak only of loyalty to his king and his friend. He used whatever skills he had at his disposal—skills which were innate, which he has possessed for the entirety of his life—to defend his home and his loved ones. Would you not have done the same in his position? I know I would have," Arthur admitted.
"As would I," Annis said.
Arthur nodded to her in thanks and she smiled back, a twinkle in her eye. He turned back to the rest and took in their expressions, ranging from considering to uncomfortable.
"There is no evil in sorcery," Arthur said, "but in the hearts of men. There are good kings and there are tyrants. So are there sorcerers who use their power for the benefit of all and those who use it to further their own ends. It is injustice of the lowest kind to blame an entire people for the acts of a small fraction of their number. And I will not participate in such injustice any longer."
"Well said, young Pendragon."
Arthur looked to Sarrum, startled. Of all those around him, Sarrum was not the one that he had expected to voice his support on this particular subject. Sarrum smiled at him, seeing his surprise.
"I may not be fond of magic," he said, "but I am not immune to logic and reason. You argue your point well. I can acknowledge that."
"Uther certainly trained you well in the art of rhetoric, if nothing else," Bayard said. "Though I doubt he ever expected you to put those skills to this purpose."
"My father was blind to reason where magic was concerned," Arthur said, pulling out his chair and taking a seat once more. "He blamed the whole of magic for the acts of one woman—or, more accurately, for his own ignorance and arrogance—and he would not be swayed from his stance, no matter the evidence put before him. I will not allow myself to be so unmoving when there are innocent lives on the line."
"You would rather be easily swayed by those who whisper in your ear?" Odin countered, though the argument was halfhearted. It sounded like he grasping at straws, looking for any point that he could use as an outlet for his resentment of Arthur.
Arthur shook his head. "I made the choice to legalize magic after months of careful deliberation. I have looked at it from every angle and every perspective and come to this decision with a clear mind and my own sound judgment."
"And, if you will recall, Odin," Annis said, "the one you seek to implicate was no longer in a position to whisper in his ear when the decision was made."
"No, he was off gaining more power for himself," Bayard muttered.
"Merlin did not ask for that either," Arthur told him. "He took up that mantle because he had to."
Alined scoffed, as if the thought of anyone not wanting to be king was patently ridiculous.
"I understand your skepticism," Arthur said. "And I can't expect you to trust Merlin's motives on my word alone. I urge you to speak with him yourself. Honestly, I challenge anyone to spend any real amount of time with Merlin and come out of it thinking him a villain."
"He accused me of conspiring to assassinate you," Bayard pointed out.
"And he played a fool in my court and juggled eggs," Annis said wryly. "He's a versatile man."
"He is certainly that," Arthur laughed. "But his intentions are always good. And if you would recall, Bayard, someone was trying to assassinate me and Merlin took the poison so that I would not have to. In everything he does, Merlin seeks peace, as do I. As do we all," he added with a pointed look around the table. Annis met his eyes steadily, as did Bayard. Alined cringed a bit in his seat when Arthur's gaze landed on him and Odin simply cast his eyes upon the table.
"We all wish the best for our kingdoms and our peoples," Sarrum said. "We may not always agree with each other's methods, but our aims are identical."
"Really, it's only when we come into close contact with each other that we butt heads," Arthur said. "Too many strong personalities in the same room for too long will always lead to unnecessary friction. On that note, I believe that we have shouted at each other enough for one day, don't you? I think it best if we adjourn for the evening and reconvene tomorrow morning for further discussion."
"I will be glad of some fresh air," Annis said. "If you'll excuse me."
Arthur stood and held out a hand to her, which she took with a gracious smile as the rest of the monarchs hauled themselves to their feet as well. "Thank you for your support," Arthur said. "It is invaluable."
"I believe you to be an honorable man, Arthur Pendragon," she said. "I believe that your intentions are good. And from what I have seen of Merlin Ambrosius—"
"When he wasn't performing tricks in your banquet hall, you mean?" Arthur put in with a chuckle.
Annis didn't laugh, but there was an amused glint in her eye anyway. "From what I have seen of him," she continued, undeterred, "I believe that he is an honorable man as well. Any man who has earned such loyalty from you deserves to have at least the benefit of the doubt from the rest of us."
"Thank you," Arthur repeated. He bent to kiss her hand and said, "I wish you a pleasant evening, your Majesty."
Annis nodded to him and took her leave, seeming to glide as her long gown swept over the floor behind her. Arthur stooped to gather up his notes and miscellaneous papers, tapping them into a manageable stack, and turned to head out as well but found himself face to face with Sarrum.
"Sarrum," he said. "Is there something you need?"
"I simply wished to congratulate you on your performance today," Sarrum said. "This is not an easy group to wrangle. You have done Uther proud."
That got a smile out of Arthur; there were not many things about his father that Arthur still had respect for, but if there was one thing that Uther had been good at, it was political maneuvering. To hear that he had inherited something from his father that didn't stem from hatred and intolerance was a relief.
"Thank you. There were many lessons my father imparted on me, and I strive to honor as many of them as I can. Although I know that he would strongly disapprove of the purpose to which I apply those lessons now."
"Every son grows up to shame his father in some way," Sarrum said with a creaky laugh. "That does not mean that he is wrong to do it. The old must fall and the young rise. That is always the way of it, and who are we to stand in the way of progress when it comes?"
"I'm glad to hear you say that," Arthur said. "I will admit, I thought you would put up more resistance to the idea of re-allowing magic."
"A year ago, I would have said the same thing about you," Sarrum said. "And yet here we are."
"Here we are," Arthur confirmed, nonplussed but nodding.
Sarrum clapped him on the shoulder.
"I would like to dine with you, my friend," he said. "We have never had the chance to converse one-on-one; all of my dealings were with Uther. But you are your own man now and you are your own king. I would know you as I did your father."
"It would be an honor, Sarrum," Arthur said. "There is a small solar in the west wing which would serve nicely, if you would like to meet me there shortly. I will have dinner brought up to us."
"I look forward to it," Sarrum said heartily. He clapped Arthur's shoulder again, smiled, and took his leave.
Arthur stared after him for a long moment, brow furrowed. The man that he was seeing was nothing like the reputation that preceded him: cold, shrewd, ruthless, and unshakably bigoted. Annis had been right to caution him; Sarrum was up to something, there was no doubt about that.
Arthur absently fingered the communication charm around his wrist, rubbing his thumb over the runes engraved in its metal surface.
Arthur might strive to see the best in people, to give them the benefit of the doubt in times of trouble, but he was no fool. A private meeting with a man whose ideology differed so greatly from his own and who was acting uncharacteristically accommodating? It reeked of a trap. If Sarrum had come here to lure him in, earn his trust, and then somehow engineer his death—most likely in some manner that would be difficult to trace back to him—then this was the perfect opportunity.
Arthur pressed the charm tightly to his skin and thought of Merlin, feeling the heat against his palm for three seconds, and then he set off for the solar.
