A/N: So, I have really no excuse for the wait except that I was utterly exhausted because of work and finally catching up on some much needed rest. And I wasn't entirely satisfied with this chapter. It went through a lot of edits before I was finally ready to release it for your viewing pleasure. Hopefully it stands up to the wait.
Thank you to everyone that has reviewed! I love you all and cannot wait to see what you think.
Disclaimer: Uh, duh? Really?
Chapter 15-A Second Chance Offered
"You are such an idiot!" Arthur swore, though it was muffled considering he had buried his face in his arms.
Merlin smirked. Gwen had left only moments before, taking both of their bowls and Morgana's medicine with her. It was so hard to resist needling his king (so he hadn't!) over Gwen. The blond royal made it entirely too easy and the warlock could not help himself. Besides, if he knew his king, then the man had no doubt been contemplating letting Gwen "go". It would be for some stupidly noble reason such as keeping her out of danger, or protecting her heart or some such nonsense. Yes, if he were to pursue and win Gwen's affections once again, she would be in danger. Yes, her heart might be hurt, but so might be Arthur's and while Merlin would never want him to suffer through what he did the first time, he knew that Arthur believed it to be worth it.
He might just have to remind him of that.
So he had proceeded to profusely praise the man for all that he had done, earning giggles from Gwen and sputtering outrage from the prince-king for his exaggerations. He would have gone on for some time, speaking of prowess on the battlefield, cleverness when dealing with difficult nobles, his care for his people (none of which were terrible exaggerations truthfully even if some of it had not come to pass) if Arthur's grievous shout of "Merlin!" hadn't interrupted him.
"Yes, sire?" he feigned innocently which nearly sent the maidservant into hysterics. Arthur's red face and put-upon sigh was enough to ignite a warm fire in his belly. He was honestly surprised that his magic had not started making things float; it had done that when he was extremely happy when he was younger. Perhaps it was too busy repairing the damage from the idiot nobles or perhaps…
Perhaps because Arthur was right there. Over time his friend had become something of a grounding agent, an anchor in the chaos of the world. His magic (and his sanity) had latched onto the other and doggedly refused to give Arthur up. Merlin had felt adrift for so long, not knowing the purpose behind his powers and then suddenly he was presented with the crown prince. Arthur had been a real dollop-headed prat in the beginning but over time, as he came to trust the warlock, had opened up to him and showed him true face (or perhaps discovering it for himself along the way). It had taken Merlin some time to realize that Arthur had been afraid to open up to anyone for fear that they might use it against him (not an unreasonable assumption as it happened). The warlock remembered that moment specifically despite nothing out of the ordinary happening.
~Merlin~(A Look into the Past)
He had returned from gathering firewood (Arthur had dragged him on yet another unnecessary hunting trip) to find his prince sharpening his sword. Not unusually in of itself since the blond royal found the task therapeutic, but his eyes made the warlock freeze.
They were clouded with envy.
At first Merlin was indignant. Just what did Arthur have to be envious of? He was the crown prince for heaven's sake!
Then Merlin heard the laughter.
Following his prince's line of sight Merlin found the knights gathered in a cluster around the campfire. Sir Boris was relating a rather animated tale, if his hand-waving was anything to go by, and the apparently a humorous one as well if the laughter was to be judged. Merlin looked from the knights, to Arthur, and back to the knights, face twisting in puzzlement. If Arthur wanted to join them, why didn't he? Surely he would be welcome among them, he was their prince after all!
And that's when it hit him. Arthur was their prince. And that was exactly why he felt he couldn't join them. Uther had always preached (Merlin assumed since he had heard it many times since coming to Camelot) that a king must rule alone. Perhaps that worked for Uther, but Arthur was cut from a different cloth and in trying to please his father, suffered in silence.
Who does the future king trust with his inner thoughts? Who could Arthur trust with true self?
Despite himself, Merlin had begun to develop a fondness for the dollop-headed prat for he had seen exactly what Gaius had spoken of. Arthur, as the future sovereign, was always under a great deal of pressure and nothing he did ever seemed to honestly impress or even please Uther. It had irritated the warlock and more than once he'd bitten his tongue to keep from shouting abuse at the man. Didn't he realize the damage that he was inflicting by treating his son that way? Did he even care for Arthur as his son or only viewed him as his unruly heir?
He might worry over Arthur's physical health, but he didn't seem to give a damn about his emotional one.
Seeing Arthur now, knowing the other was feeling set apart because of his status as prince, Merlin began to feel a kinship. That feeling of isolation, of not having a place, a safe one, to call your own was one he was intimately familiar with. He had felt it nearly every day of his life. Camelot had changed that. Despite the threat of death that hung over his head day after day, he had found a sanctuary with Gaius. The man knew of his powers and their purpose and was not afraid of them (or him), but instead did his very best to guide Merlin whenever he could. He found himself making friends here as he had never been able to accomplish in Ealdor. He was making a home for himself. It was though Camelot had always been that, a home. Ealdor, despite having his mother there with him, had never made him feel that way. He was always the odd one out, the strangeling, the bastard…
The monster.
When he had asked Gaius if he was a monster he was only echoing the words of every bully he had ever encountered in Ealdor. He knew now that if Gaius had even hesitated in reassuring him he would have been crushed for despite their short time together the warlock had already been very attached.
Gaius made it easy to get attached.
And he had not hesitated to set the warlock straight, commanding him never to speak that way about himself again.
And Arthur, despite being a clotpole, was also helping. He had provided Merlin with a purpose (reluctant though he was to take it up at first) unknowingly helping the warlock to settle and make a place for himself. Make a home.
And because he knew what it was to suffer that isolation, to feel as though you are not welcome and do not have the right to even make the attempt, Merlin vowed then and there that he would offer what surcease he could. Arthur was to be his destiny according to that meddlesome dragon, but perhaps he could be more. If nothing else, he would help the other to feel safe around the warlock.
Be a friend.
And it he knew it would not be easy. Having Uther as a father meant Arthur had emotional walls higher than those that protected Camelot, but it also made him weak, vulnerable. With persistence he would be worn down.
And Merlin was nothing if not persistent.
With his new goal in mind, Merlin had dumped the firewood in their pile for later and plopped down next to his prince, retrieving one of his shirts from his bag. He had figured that if he had time during this trip that he would do some mending and there was no time like the present. Settling himself on the log next to Arthur he had proceeded to patch his shirt. Normally he would have chattered in Arthur's direction, complaining about the work the blond royal had assigned him, but not this time. Instead, he kept his entire focus on his shirt and Arthur, completely ignoring the neighboring knights. His prince did not speak to him, not that day or many of the days after when Merlin continued this routine, each time finding some quiet activity to keep him occupied.
It took five days for Arthur to break.
They were on their return trip, having successfully killed three deer. The scene was much the same that evening as it had been every evening past. The knights clustered together, clearly enjoying themselves. Arthur, lonely and clearly trying not to show it. The warlock dearly wanted to hex the oblivious men, to shout at them so they might realize just what they were doing to their prince. But he didn't. Instead Merlin once more placed himself next to his prince, this time sorting herbs he had gathered for Gaius. He often tried to combine the hunting trips with chores for the physician whenever possible for despite not knowing the prince long, he was loathe to leave him unprotected.
"What are you doing, Merlin?" the blond's snarky voice interrupted the warlock's train of thought.
Merlin glanced in his direction incredulously, looked down at his basket, then looked at the prince once more. "I thought that was very obvious, sire," he drawled, tying another string around a bundle of nettles.
"I think you're playing with weeds, but that's not what I meant," the prince sniped.
The warlock raised an admonishing eyebrow, a habit he just knew he'd picked up from the court physician. "I would dearly love to hear you call these herbs weeds to Gaius's face." His lips tugged as a grin threatened to break through his mock sternness. "I cannot even begin to imagine what he would do to you."
"Nothing! I am the prince of Camelot after all."
"Even the prince of Camelot must see the court physician now and again, especially when he likes to play with swords."
"I do not play with swords, Merlin, I train with them. Not that I would expect you to know any different; I'm not certain you know which end of the sword to hold!" the blond royal exclaimed.
"The pointy end, right?" Merlin asked innocently.
The prince groaned in over-exaggerated frustration, flopping dramatically backward into the pile of leaves behind him. "Sometimes, Merlin, it absolutely astounds me how much of an idiot you are," he groused before turning his head slightly so that the other was within his view once more. "Do not think you can avoid the question either. What are you doing?"
"Didn't you ask that already?"
"And you never answered it."
"Sorting herbs I collected for Gaius as he asked me to. Taken too many blows during training, my lord?" Merlin wondered.
"You'll be the one suffering we get back. The tournament is coming up soon and I need a sparring partner." The prince's smile was positively evil and Merlin could not contain a groan. Arthur seemed to believe that he was some sort of living training dummy to be whacked at until it fell over.
"I suppose I shall attempt to enjoy my last few days then?" he moaned, placing the last bundle in his basket.
"You'll be too busy mucking out the stables to enjoy them and you still haven't answered my question."
"Pretty sure I did."
"No, what you have done is your very best to distract me!" Arthur griped.
"I'm a little confused since I know I answered this question."
"Merlin, for the last several days all you have done at the end of the day is sit near me and be annoyingly quiet. Frankly I was beginning to wonder if you were an imposter, though you talk too much during the day for that."
"I'm not seeing the question here," the warlock admitted.
Arthur blew out a sigh of frustration and hitched himself to lean against the tree.
"Since you're being particularly stupid today, Merlin, I will spell it out for you. Why are you sitting beside me and not saying anything? Why not join the others?"
"I thought I would keep you company," Merlin replied honestly.
"I'm the prince, I do not need anyone," Arthur explained.
"Just because you are a prince (which you cannot, by the way, keep using as an excuse) doesn't make you not a person you know. We all like companionship. Well," he gave the master a sidelong look, "most people do."
"I'm not most people, I'm the prince, Merlin, as you so frequently seem to forget."
"Doesn't make you any less of a person, just more prone to be lonely," the warlock pointed out.
When Arthur did not immediately come back with a comment, Merlin thought he might have actually given him something to think about. The two lapsed into silence, Arthur staring off in the distance (though Merlin thought that he might be watching the knights) and the warlock returning to his sorting. He would give Arthur his space to come to his own conclusions. For what seemed like an age quiet reigned between them and it wasn't until Merlin had completed his task that the prince spoke up once more.
"Why?" he wondered quietly.
Merlin paused, turning his full attention on the blond royal. The other was still watching the knights and those his face did not show it, his eyes shown with confusion and that damned spark of envy. Curse those men and all who had come before them!
"Because I know what it means to be well and truly alone with no one to turn to. No one should have to suffer that." Here he stopped and managed to catch the other's eye. He grinned. "Even prattish princes."
"Merlin!" Arthur growled, chunking the first thing he could lay his hand on (a stick) at his manservant. "You cannot speak to me like that!"
"My apologies," Merlin laughed as he ducked under the projectile. "Even prattish princes, my lord!"
~Merlin~
From that moment on they had been nigh inseparable, though it had taken Arthur time to learn that it was okay to let him in. By the time the tournament was done, and Valiant vanquished, Arthur was much more comfortable with him. After the poisoned goblet Bayard had (unknowingly) given him, the prince had firmly claimed him as his. His servant, his (unknown to Arthur) warlock, his…friend. Things had been so much less complicated back then.
Merlin wasn't sure that the same could be said for the second time around.
"I'm fairly certain it is you that are the idiot here, my king," he admonished, leaning over to tweak the blond royal's ear.
Arthur batted at him gently, turning his head until the warlock came into view. "How so?"
"You are thinking of letting her go," Merlin stated simply and was met with stony silence. "Do not bother denying it, I know you too well. Which is why I did what I did."
"What? Make me seem like someone who is just looking to be drowned with praises of my 'prowess'?" Arthur returned somewhat acidly.
"To make you seem more human," Merlin admonished quietly, ignoring the other's ire with practiced ease. "She has only ever seen the bully-prat-dollop-headed prince. Let her see you interact differently with someone who she knows is on her level."
"And our bickering like children will do that?" Arthur asked incredulously.
Merlin grinned as best he could. "Of course!"
"And how am I to explain how you and I get along so well? We've only just 'met', remember?" Arthur pointed out.
Merlin hummed, allowing Arthur to pull the blanket once more over his shoulders after it attempted to escape his grasp. "We can just tell her that we bonded over having to be under Gaius's care."
"Oi!" the physician exclaimed, nearly drowning out Arthur's booming laugh.
"If you two are quite done," Gauis interrupted, ignoring the continued snickering of the king-prince, "we do have a problem that needs addressing."
Arthur sobered immediately and Merlin could not contain a wince. "Lady Helen," the king-prince stated grimly.
"Mary Collins," Merlin corrected quietly. That night had been a turning point for him. He had only been in Camelot for three days and by that point had had two confrontations with the prince and had a dragon spouting off about some destiny that he was supposed to fulfill. When the other guests (when Arthur) had started to fall asleep and his magic kept him awake, he had wanted very much to give into his panic. Mary Collins's singing still haunted his sleep, its sound carrying all of the despair, anger, and pain of a mother whose child had been cruelly ripped from her. He could see her now, gliding down the banquet hall, dark eyes fixed with a triumphant gleam on a cobweb-covered Arthur. How she had not noticed him still standing, still awake, was something he never understood, but being overlooked was a trait that he became grateful for in the years to come. Perhaps she was so fixated upon her revenge that everything else was discarded. He hadn't understood what was going on, not fully, until he had seen the knife and he didn't even think of the consequences, merely acted.
He committed his first murder.
All of seventeen and he could say (not that he would tell anyone) that he was a murderer. Many would argue that he had only done what was needed in order to protect his (then) prince from harm. And that was in essence true, but did not make the burden of her death any easier to carry.
Only time allowed that.
And now here he was again, faced with the same dilemma, only now he had time to think about it.
"Do you think," Arthur began hesitantly, "that she might be reasoned with? I mean, how do we even know that Mary Collins has already taken her place?"
"Last time I took a preparation for her voice from Gaius I found a book of spells and other things that though at the time I didn't know what they were," Merlin explained. "Hiding the real Lady Helen's body would be too difficult within the castle itself. It makes more sense that she traded places with her on the road."
"As for being reasoned with," Gaius sighed. "I'm not certain that would work. She is a grieving mother bent on revenge and you are a tool in that. She will not give it up so easily."
"And it's not really about you, Arthur," the warlock reasoned. "It's about your father executing her son. You are merely a means to an end."
Arthur sighed and Merlin knew that the man had thought all of these things already and was hoping for something new. Merlin had nothing to offer. He had already contemplated the various scenarios hundreds of times before this and still he had never found a satisfactory solution. It was a situation that they had faced all too often in their previous lives. Arthur was not a person, but a tool, an obstacle to be conquered in the road to Uther. Madness might be reasoned with, but grief, as Merlin knew from experience was a monster that slithered through your every thought until you were choking with it. Grief-driven madness…
"I want to try," Arthur said stubbornly and Merlin wanted nothing more than to slap the man upside the head and then clutch him close. He was being stupidly noble again and putting his life in danger. It drove the warlock nearly crazy every time he did something like this and it never got any easier.
Part of him, though, was unaccountably grateful. Here Arthur was giving the woman who had done her very best to kill him, using the last breaths in her body to do so, and still he was willing to give her a chance. The warlock knew they were being idiotic and it was likely best for everyone that they allowed events to play out as they had before but hadn't both of them made a vow to get it right this time? To make things better? Merlin had and if he knew his king, Arthur had as well. Merlin had always longed for the chance to do just as the blond royal proposed and try to reason with the sorceress, talk her out of going after Arthur, but those had been just dreams. Now they might become a reality.
And if she couldn't be reasoned with…well…
Merlin would not allow her to touch his king.
"If that is what you wish," Gaius seemed troubled and Merlin could hardly blame him. "Then we should plan on exactly how you are going to manage that."
~Arthur~
Every nervous habit that he had acquired while waiting on Merlin to arrive resurfaced and attacked Arthur all at once. He desperately controlled all of them with an iron grip that probably had him appearing stiff. He could honestly say that it was worse than waiting for any battle he had participated in over his lives so far and he just wished for it to be done or at least started. Waiting was not one of his strong suits.
As he impatiently waited for the feast to begin, he spotted Merlin being led in by Gaius and some part of him eased. It seemed strange to enter battle without the warlock at his side and the future (present) king had no doubt that they were in for a momentous fight. Merlin had followed him so often where even knights feared to tread without even a moment of hesitation that his absence, rather than his presence, seemed unthinkable. He kept them in his line of sight, pleased that Gaius was able to situate the man in the same place he had been standing last time (according to Merlin).
"God in Heaven," Sir Boris whispered, probably unconsciously, but loud enough to pull Arthur's attention to whom entered next.
It was Morgana.
And just like last time, she was dressed to steal the show, capturing every man's attention with her wardrobe choices. Arthur…found her annoying. She stirred up a mixed bag of feelings that he could not properly untangle. How do you treat someone who wanted nothing more than to see you dead?
And yet, Morgana wasn't that person yet. She had not been driven to desperate measures in fear of her life, made to believe that the only person she could trust, the only one who truly cared about her was Morguase. Now she cared for the people, rebelling against Uther where she could and ribbing Arthur who fell for it every time.
Oh great dragons! They had acted like brother and sister even before they knew they were brother and sister! Part of him squirmed over how he had occasionally (very, very rarely because he often found her too annoying) thought of her before the truth had come to light. Most had expected, even anticipated the day when the engagement between Morgana and himself would be announced and Arthur had to wonder just how far Uther would have allowed his ruse to go. Would he have allowed them to wed?
Arthur shut that line of thought off right there, instead feeling irritation rise as the other knights began to speak in admiration (that bordered on the unseemly) about Morgana.
"That is enough," he stated firmly, loudly enough that all of those gathered about him immediately shut up. "The Lady Morgana is my father's ward and as such falls under my protection as well. I will not have you speak of her in such a fashion," he paused, leaning forward to catch each of their eyes. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
A chorus of "Yes, sire," was voiced and the conversation moved on, much more stilted than it had been previously. Arthur could not find it in himself to care. Oscillating feelings or not Morgana was still his sister who had not (as of yet) done him any harm (except his pride on occasion, but it could take the bruising) and what he had told the others was true: she fell under his protection. More so than Uther's for he would do everything in his power to keep her from hurting as she had before. Uther would leave her to suffer but Arthur would be damned before he let that happen again.
Huh. Perhaps his feelings were not so hard to untangle after all. Despite all of the hurt and pain, both physical and emotional, that she had visited on him in his previous life, the blond royal was beginning to realize that he could forgive her. Was that not what he was doing with Mary Collins? Still, it was not on the same scale, but when presented with this Morgana Arthur was struck with the need to swaddle her in his protection. He knew that it wouldn't work that way for she would not be suffocated in such a way but he vowed that what had happened before would not be allowed to pass again. Morgana would have Camelot as her home, not her prize to be won. She would have a family with Arthur, Merlin, Gwen and Gaius, not Morguase.
He would not fail her again.
The trumpets sounded, signaling to the mingling guests that the feast was about to begin, and startling Arthur from his contemplations. He glanced around, noted that he had been left alone, and reluctantly moved to his place at the head table. He met Merlin's gaze briefly as he rounded the table, the warlock's eyes worried but resolute. The blond royal could hardly blame the other for his worry as he too wondered if they were doing the right thing. Much of what had happened the first time was down to pure chance that it was a wonder that they had been so lucky. This was one of the first major changes both of them were attempting and Arthur could only hope that they were not making a mistake.
But not trying seemed a mistake as well.
Well, they would find out soon enough.
"…but few can compare to the honor of introducing, Lady Helen of Mora!" Uther announced and the audience clapped along with their king just as the music began. Arthur did his best to relax into his chair, keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he gazed upon the woman who was about to do her best to kill him.
~Merlin~
This was a bad idea.
This was a phenomenally bad idea.
Merlin grit his teeth against the pain as his body, despite his best efforts, tensed up as the music began. How had he let Arthur talk him into this? After hours of talking, the best plan they could come up with relied on Merlin's magic and he wasn't sure just how reliable that was at the moment. So much of it was being devoted to healing him, as though desperately aware of his need to be in top form. He never remembered it acting so quickly before and yet…
Despite his worries, his magic was humming, sensing the gathering power around the hag witch. He could only liken it to a dragon, poised to strike and defend that which it considered under its protection.
That meant Arthur.
He had done his best to keep the blond royal from succumbing to the sleep spell that would be woven through the woman's song. There was no way to test it before now and he wasn't sure what he had done was an actual spell anyway. He'd cupped his hand around one of his king's ears, guiding the blond head to his chest since he had no use of his other arm as of yet, and let his magic flow.
Protect. Protect. Protect!
It had to be enough.
As the witch began to sing, the magic in the room began to rise and Merlin's reacted to meet it. He hadn't been so aware of the movement of his magic the first time around but now he had to wonder how he could have missed it. It rose like the dragon he had imagined it to be, wings outstretched as though to shield the warlock from the darkness that was beginning to descend. All around him guests and servants alike began to drift slowly to sleep. Soon webs began to form, crawling to cover people and objects alike. It was disconcerting to watch, especially when the candles all went out. He cut his eyes to the head table and tried not to panic when he saw Arthur nearly concealed behind the cobwebs, slumped against his chair.
Please, please, please let this work! He pleaded with anyone who would listen as the woman's song began to reach its crescendo and she prepared to launch the knife. As soon as she paused under the chandelier Merlin released his hold on his magic and it leapt to do his bidding.
Time stopped.
~Arthur~
Arthur was never going to willingly play the bait ever again.
And while no one had come right out and stated it during their planning, that was essentially what he was doing and it was…it was…just no. Never again.
Arthur followed the cues of the guests, pretending to fall asleep just as all those around him did. He tilted his head back, his eyes remaining open the merest of slits so that he might track the woman's progress down the banquet hall. It was not that he didn't trust Merlin's magic (he really honestly did), but he was decidedly curious as to what it had looked like from Merlin's point of view the last time around.
Now he almost wished he didn't know.
The woman's magic, interwoven in her song, tried to lure Arthur into its grasp only to be met with Merlin's shield. The blond royal wasn't sure exactly what his warlock had done, wasn't even sure if he had used a proper spell, but it was very effective. Arthur felt as though he were incased in full body armor and though he could feel the slick, raw slide of her magic over him, it could not harm him. Which is why, he believed, that it did its best to smother him in webbing in retaliation. It took every ounce of his not so inconsiderable control to keep from pulling the webbing away as soon as it formed. Instead he allowed it to cocoon him, whiting out his vision as it became too thick.
He could only hope that she wasn't paying attention to his feet because they were twitching almost uncontrollably.
As her song seemed to reach its peak, the blond royal felt what could only be described as golden sunshine crash through the room. He could not see it, but could feel it all the way down to his bones. The witch's magic was sucked away from him and her song ceased, choked off by his warlock's magic.
That was his cue.
As dignified as he could, he stood, pulling the webbing away as he did so. He wanted nothing more than to rip it from his body as quickly as he could. He did not remember being this covered last time and frankly it would be some time before he would be able to deal with a spider's web without viciously destroying it. All those around him save Merlin and the witch were asleep, webs draped over their forms. Merlin rose from his seat and moved closer to the prince-king, eyes blazing molten gold as they remained trained on the imposter.
"Can she hear us?" Arthur asked, wanting to make certain.
"I believe so," Merlin returned, voice flat as his entire concentration was focused on maintaining his spells.
"What have you done?" Lady Helen/Mary Collins shrieked. Merlin had managed it. Mary Collins was frozen from the neck down. The warlock was now controlling her sleep spell and the one that kept her immobile.
"Mary Collins," the blond royal called. He pulled himself to his full height, feeling every inch the king that he was not (yet). "We were hoping to keep you from making a mistake. From committing an act that cannot be undone."
"There is no mistake," she insisted, whipping her head from side to side in a poor attempt to (physically) break free from her confinement. "I will kill you!" From the corner of his eye, Arthur observed the sweat that was beginning to shine on Merlin's brow. His warlock would not be able to keep this up forever; Arthur was going to have to talk fast.
"I know why you are angry. Your son should not have been executed for though he practiced magic he did no harm. If it were in my power I would bring him back, but the dead are beyond my reach. I am not asking for mercy or understanding, but hope for the future. I will not ask what happened to Lady Helen, that much I can gather on my own, but let it go no further. Please, let the bloodshed end here," Arthur pleaded. This was not working!
"Hope," the witch spat and it was very disconcerting to see a familiar face twisted in such a fashion. "What hope is there? My son is gone! He took him from me! My beautiful boy," she wept, tears rolling down her cheeks. "What help could the son of this bastard king give?"
"Hope is here. I will one day be king and magic will return my kingdom, that I promise you," he paused, trying to keep his despair from leaking into his voice. Every word he uttered was being twisted and thrust back at him. Would nothing he said make a difference? "We only want to help," he offered one last time.
"Promises?" she snarled and Arthur heard Merlin whine. "Promises will not give me back my son!"
The king-prince both heard and saw Merlin's hold on the witch shatter, her emotions giving her the surge she needed to break free of the warlock's strained grasp. She immediately drew back her arm to launch the knife. Merlin's magic roared and just like before the chains holding the chandelier snapped, dropping the heavy object atop the would-be assassin. Before Arthur could fully process how badly their attempt had failed, he found himself shoved back into his chair and Merlin back in his own. All around the banquet hall guests were beginning to stir and Arthur imitated them, realizing somewhat belatedly that the witch's spell had been broken.
He did not rise immediately, momentarily stunned over the turn of events and the enormity of their failure. When he did rise it was slowly, body feeling heavier than it should. Pull yourself together! This was not the time, nor the place for losing his calm. Casting his eye around in an attempt to appear confused and he almost missed Mary Collins sitting up long enough to throw the knife (aided by her last bit of magic) in his direction.
Great kings of old, it was happening all over again. Last time he had been too startled to even fully absorb that he was about to die before Merlin had yanked him out of the way. This time it felt as though his body were locked in place, the knife spinning ever closer. It couldn't end like this, not so soon, they had only just begun!
Then…time slowed.
It was like being plunged into a lake in full armour and if he had found it difficult to move before, it was doubly so now. The knife kept coming, but it was slower now, almost lazy in its path towards destruction. He should move out of the way, he knew he should, but he just…couldn't. Had this happened last time? Surely he would have noticed. But then, if this was Merlin (as it had been before) then it was possible he hadn't. But how do people miss this? What did it look like to those around him? Did they wonder…
He hit the floor.
Granted his sudden descent was aided by the extra weight atop him, but it was no less shocking than last time. A startled cry of pain rent the air and time seemed to snap back, sucking Arthur back from the lake he was trapped in. With full use of his limbs once more, he automatically wrapped his arms around the body above him, twisting to cradle it protectively. The person hissed and Arthur focused on who he was holding.
It was Merlin. With the knife meant for Arthur embedded in his arm.
"Merlin!" he shouted, quelling the urge to bolt upright and instead sitting up gently, keeping the warlock as steady as possible. The dark-haired youth's good hand, for the knife was lodged in his broken arm, crushed Arthur's arm in such a way that the blond royal knew he would have bruises later. "Gaius!"
The physician appeared so swiftly that Arthur thought for one wild moment he had used magic in front of everyone before common sense prevailed and he realized the man must have already been on his way.
"Try not to move too much," Gaius instructed, gripping his ward's elbow to keep it steady. Arthur immediately tightened his hold, worrying over the pain-filled groans and panting coming from his friend.
This wasn't supposed to happen! This wasn't better than last time, this was worse! Arthur had hoped that with their knowledge of what was to come that Merlin and he would be able to make better choices. Wasn't offering the woman who was trying to avenge her son's death a second chance a better choice? Or would they have been better off leaving things as they had happened? At least last time Merlin had not been hurt.
"Y-you okay?" the warlock's soft, stuttering query brought him back from his contemplations.
The blond royal knew that his astonishment was clearly stamped on his face. The—the nerve! Asking if he, Arthur, was all right when he, Merlin, had a knife sticking out of his arm! Arthur opened his mouth to deliver a blistering tongue lashing of the likes of which would burn the warlock to his very soul when the dark-haired youth whimpered and every scrap of anger fled (laying dormant for a more appropriate time, not gone completely) and worry took its place.
Why was it always Merlin? Arthur had only just regained his friend (family, brother), having died after learning his greatest most terrible secret, and then, then if that wasn't enough, discovering just how far Merlin was willing to go in order to keep him alive. Again he had to wonder; just what had he done to deserve this clumsy scrap of unshakable loyalty?
Nothing. Nothing he had ever done or would ever do would ever make him worthy of this man. He could only hope that one day he would be able to make his warlock proud of him in a way that he had once hoped Uther would be, but never was. Death (both his own and Uther's) had finally helped him to outgrow the last vestiges of that impulse thankfully. He had a feeling that with Merlin, that would never happen.
He was strangely at peace with that.
"Gaius?" his sister's questioning voice snapped Arthur back to the present and the king-prince had to fight the urge to hunch protectively over his warlock. Damn. As much as he might be ready to forgive her, he wasn't ready to forget. Or trust.
"We need to get him to my chambers. I can care for him better there," the physician declared, signaling to a few of the more alert guards over. Arthur felt his face shift into a snarl, unconsciously tightening his hold. With one swift movement he was on his feet, his warlock secure in his hold. He ignored the many gasps that erupted around the room. Many had not seen what had happened to the brave lad who had dived in the way of the knife for the prince. Now the full consequences were in view and many were shocked over what had and had nearly occurred.
Arthur worried about none of this, not the dead witch under the chandelier, not the other nobles, not even his father's burning eyes as he marched towards Gaius's chambers.
End Ch. 15
A/N: Uh, yeah, so that happened. This was very hard to write and every time I looked at it, it felt rushed and I didn't like it. I finally reached peace with this version so hopefully you are okay with it. I had to touch on the part where Merlin just tackles Arthur instead of yanking him backward. That never made sense to me. I mean, I know why they did it, film wise, but in reality he should have just used his momentum to bowl the prince out of the way. But that's just me. Anyway, enough of my ranting, please review! I will get the next part up as soon as Arthur stops being emotionally constipated. I swear, he is taking lessons from Thorin Oakenshield.