The sun was rapidly setting and Arthur's horse was slow. Which he didn't appreciate. He'd tried, multiple times, to urge the stallion forward by prodding the animal's sides with his heels, but apparently the stable-hand had given the prince the kingdom's slowest, oldest inhabitant.
"I don't have time for this," Arthur muttered under his breath. At this rate, he'd arrive at the Isle after the full moon had dipped below the horizon and who knew what the sorceress would do then. Certainly not let Arthur leave alive, and the prince, though he loathed to admit it, knew he would be at her mercy.
He was about halfway there, he reasoned, though he had hoped to be at the lakeshore by now. He just sighed, resigning to his fate and hoping for the sake of it that the horse would see fit to speed up. As if in response, the horse neighed, and appeared to slow down.
"Really?" Arthur asked. "Come now, I could walk faster than this." And, realizing he wasn't exaggerating, the prince decided to do just that. Sliding off the horse and gripping the reins loosely, Arthur tried to encourage a brisker pace. He'd barely made it a couple steps before tripping over a tree branch, his nose hitting the dirt with an unpleasant thud.
The prince sighed, dragged himself to his feet, and rubbing his nose, he continued on his way. And promptly tripped again.
He caught himself this time, his hands bracing his fall; "You've got to be kidding me." For another half an hour, the prince made his way through the forest, dodging roots and branches that seemed to come out of nowhere. At some point, he could have sworn he even tripped over a shoelace.
The horse followed idly just behind him, and while Arthur knew that the snicker he heard every time he fell was the animal laughing at him, he wondered if the horse's accompanying whinny was.
Eventually, Arthur came to a small stream, and despite his best efforts to cross the rocks, his foot slipped. He lifted it from the muddy water, his foot thoroughly soaked, and trudged his way to dry land. Once there, he looked around and through the trees. The wind picked up and leaves flew into Arthur's face. The prince, as annoyed as his boot was wet, dragged a sleeve across his face to knock away the leaves and hollered into the night,
"Merlin! Keep it up, and I will hunt you down."
"It's not really a hunt if I give myself up," the young sorcerer said, stepping out from behind a tree. He leaned against it, and gave Arthur a smile.
The prince, not sure whether he would rather embrace the boy or hit him, opted to do neither.
"You shouldn't be here," Arthur merely said.
"Neither should you."
"Excuse you, this is my father's kingdom. I can be anywhere I please!"
Merlin laughed. "Actually, you're in Odin's lands." And when Arthur looked perplexedly annoyed, the young sorcerer continued, "You haven't changed much." Merlin smiled a bit sadly. "But really, you shouldn't be here. You should go back to Camelot."
"I'm on a quest," Arthur recovered.
"To see Morgause, I know. And I'm telling you, don't."
"You know of her?"
Merlin was silent. Arthur scoffed.
"You haven't changed much either, warning me against others."
"Just trust me this time, please."
"This isn't a matter of trust," Arthur said, not bothering to add what he at least thought was obvious—that Merlin was one of the few he would always trust. "I made a promise."
"Arthur," Merlin pleaded. But the prince ignored him and began to walk forward.
Sighing, Merlin moved off the tree and caught up. "I'll come with you, then," he said.
They walked along in silence for a while. Arthur held the horse's rein, letting the animal pull them in the proper direction. Merlin followed behind, making no indication that he knew where they were or where they were going.
They reached the water in very little time.
Arthur looked around. "Where are we?" he asked, and Merlin shrugged.
"I was following you."
"Well, I was following the horse."
Merlin raised an eyebrow. "The horse? Why would the horse know where we're going?"
"Because that's what Morgause said. 'Follow the horse, the horse will know,'" Arthur explained defensively. "I don't know how this works, you're the sorcerer, not me!"
"Thank the goddess for that," Merlin muttered. He looked around, ignoring whatever response the price retorted.
He spotted the pile of wood on the lakeshore he'd left just hours earlier. "Come on," Merlin waved Arthur to come with him. Still holding the horse's reins, the prince followed skeptically.
"Now what are you doing?"
"Shush," Merlin said, relishing the look Arthur shot him. The sorcerer held out a hand and muttered a transform incantation. When a small boat rested on the shore, he looked over at the prince sheepishly.
But Arthur seemed unfazed. "A bit small, don't you think?"
"Well I only had so much wood!"
"This is a forest," Arthur said, sweeping his arm out. "We're surrounded by wood."
"Sorry," Merlin apologized, "I guess I forgot to account for your princely ego."
"The horse!" Arthur snapped. "I was talking about there being no room for the horse!"
Merlin blinked. "The horse? Why would bring the horse on the boat?"
"Well if he won't fit on the boat then we'll just have to ride him through the water. We can't leave the horse, Merlin." Arthur's tone was so bemused, Merlin couldn't help but break into a wide smile and laugh. "What?" the prince snapped.
"The—the lake is too deep to ride through," Merlin laughed. "Come on—"
"You know where we are," Arthur realized.
Merlin did his best to play dumb, not having meant to let on that he did, indeed, know where they were.
"Wha—what? I—I do not—Why—" But he noticed the look Arthur was giving him. It was the same look he'd earned asking about the front door. Merlin was silent for a heartbeat, then he continued, "Well, of course I know where we are. I stay at an inn about half a day that ways, sometimes, anyways."
To Merlin's surprise, Arthur laughed. "Yes," the prince said, "I heard about the tavern you frequent."
"It is an inn that just so happens to have a tavern in it!"
"Or is it that it's a tavern that just so happens to have a pile of hay you can sleep on?" Arthur mockingly questioned. "I'll be honest, I never took you for a drinker, but Lancelot tells me you can keep up with the best of them."
"I'll kill him," Merlin said, red in the face. Arthur nearly fell over with laughter.
The prince's laughter only made Merlin's blush deepen, and so Arthur, having recovered a bit, slapped the sorcerer on the shoulder.
Merlin grimaced. "Anyways," he snapped, "We can leave the horse. I know where you can find Morgause."
"You do?" Arthur was suddenly very serious.
"She's a sorceress, right? Well, I know where the magicians are. At least in these woods anyways," Merlin quickly explained. Arthur let Merlin take the horse from him, and turned away while the young sorcerer tied the animal to a nearby tree.
He didn't think anything shown on his face, but in case it did, he'd rather Merlin not see it. He trusted the boy completely, but despite his best efforts, magic still made him wary.
"Well, come on," Merlin interrupted Arthur's thoughts, pushing past him and climbing into the boat. Sighing, Arthur followed suit. He kicked the boat effortlessly from the shore.
There was silence as the boat began to drift across the water.
"Well, Merlin, it seems you really haven't changed," Arthur laughed.
"A year in the woods, did you really expect me to grow up at all?"
Arthur smiled. I was rather hoping not, he thought, but didn't dare say aloud. Instead he complained, "This is going to take all night." There was a noise from where Merlin sat at the back of the boat.
"Here," Merlin said, and Arthur looked over, to see that the boy was holding out the handle of an oar.
"What is that?" Arthur simply asked.
"It's a paddle," Merlin explained.
"Oh, good, let's get going then," Arthur said. Whether or not he was feigning ignorance, Merlin couldn't tell. So the young sorcerer sighed, and began paddling.
Five minutes later, they had reached the shore of the Isle of the Blessed, though Arthur was unaware of such a name. As the prince stepped out, Merlin followed, and dragged the boat onto the sand.
Arthur trudged his way up the shore a bit, not noticing that Merlin lingered behind. The young sorcerer wondered what to do. He wanted to stick by Arthur's side, follow the prince into his meeting with Morgause, but her threat skittered through his mind. Should he risk it? She was powerful, and Merlin wasn't entirely sure he would be any competition against her.
"Merlin!" Arthur called, looking back at the boy. "Hurry up, will you?"
Then again, if he stayed behind, he would have to make up some excuse – or worse, tell the truth, because that always seemed to work in his favor.
"Coming!"
The cave let out among the numerous ruins on the Isle. Arthur seemed unbothered, but the air felt thick with tension to Merlin. It was suffocating, not unlike a forest fire, and he found himself hoping that it was his own stress, and not a sign that Morgause knew he was here.
Arthur had taken barely a couple steps into the clearing between the ruins before Morgause showed herself. Merlin instinctively hung back in the shadows, despite his anxiety that made him want to be right next to the prince.
"You came," Morgause simply stated.
"I promised," Arthur replied. "What is it you want of me?"
Morgause didn't answer, but took a few steps closer to Arthur. The prince didn't move, but Merlin did. He stepped forward, clear of the shadows.
Morgause saw him, and her eyes flashed slightly. Merlin met her gaze, feeling a bit proud that she hadn't sensed him beforehand. The sorceress looked away, an expression crossing her face so fast that Merlin couldn't quite place it, but then she continued on seemingly unfazed.
"Nothing more is required of you." She shrugged.
"What?" Merlin could hear Arthur's confusion.
"I was just curious, Young Prince, what type of man you are. Now I know. You're a man that keeps his word." Morgause made eye contact again with Merlin. "A rarity in this world," she added. Merlin's jaw tightened noticeably.
Arthur, catching Morgause's distraction, looked back at his friend.
"Merlin, is something wrong?"
"No," the young sorcerer said, pulling his gaze from Morgause to Arthur. "Why would anything be wrong?"
The prince smiled a bit. "Then why are you standing all the way over there? You magicians, you're like wolves, sizing each other up."
Merlin flinched as Morgause laughed.
"So you know," she said to Arthur after a moment. "Really, Merlin, I didn't know you two were that close," she added now, this time to Merlin.
"That makes two of us," Arthur muttered, looking at his friend. "I thought you only knew of her."
The young sorcerer took in a breath. The truth never worked in his favor, but he'd forgotten that lies are usually what made it worse.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Morgause jumped in. From Merlin's perspective, she seemed to be enjoying this. Was she that mad at him? "I taught him everything he knows."
"Not everything." Merlin glared. "But that's not important right now." He walked up to Arthur. "She's got nothing else for you, let's go."
The prince didn't move. In fact, he just kind of looked at Merlin. The boy sighed, "Come on, Arthur, did you expect me not to run into other magicians?"
"Well, I can't say I thought about it one way or another, but I'm more curious as to why you lied."
"I didn't lie," Merlin offered. "Sort of."
Morgause let out a laugh that echoed around the ruins.
"Sort of? Because I seem to recall an exact phrase—"Arthur started.
"Yes, alright, I'm sorry. Can we just leave, and discuss this later?"
"Why do you want to leave so badly?" the prince asked, suspicious.
"Yes, Merlin, what's the rush?" Morgause cut in. "You know there's things I can do for the prince."
Merlin glared darkly at Morgause. "Don't," he snapped.
The sorceress's eyebrows lifted gently. "You keep saying that to me," she spoke softly. "But look where it's gotten you."
"He doesn't need anything from you."
"Merlin," Arthur demanded, "what the hell is going on?"
The hurt in the prince's eyes left Merlin speechless, and Morgause took over the conversation again. "I'd like to reward you, Prince, for keeping your word. You're an honest man, you deserve equal respect."
Arthur looked away from Merlin and to Morgause. "Reward?" he asked puzzled.
"Arthur, please," Merlin pleaded quietly, but the prince ignored him.
"Since your friend there hasn't told you anything about me, I'm sure he didn't tell you what my greatest talent is," Morgause continued. When Arthur said nothing, she explained, "I can provide an answer any question."
"Any question?" Arthur repeated.
Morgause nodded. "I recommend you choose wisely, since I'll only answer one question for you."
Merlin held his breath. He begged whoever was listening that the prince would choose a question that didn't require too interesting an answer.
Then, suddenly, Arthur shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't have a question that needs answering."
Morgause looked shocked. "Not one?" she recovered. The prince shook his head.
"Well," he corrected, "if I'm being honest, which apparently I am, I have plenty questions. I just don't have any that I'd trust your answer to."
Morgause chuckled. "One would think you're surrounded by liars, Young Prince."
"It appears I am," Arthur replied sullenly. He turned to go, and Morgause made eye contact with Merlin. His expression was sad, but hers was different. And it changed. First it was hurt, and then it was—
"Are you coming, Merlin?" Arthur called. The young sorcerer turned away.
"Is there no one you trust?" Morgause attempted again.
Arthur scoffed, but didn't answer.
"Is there not even one person, alive or dead, that you trust to give you an answer you seek?" Merlin thought he heard a hint of desperation in Morgause's voice.
"Dead?" Arthur repeated, stopping and looking back at the sorceress.
"Arthur," Merlin pleaded, catching up to Arthur so he stood by the prince's side. "Let's go."
"I'm an accomplished necromancer," Morgause explained. "I can summon anyone you wish, but of course, your question will have to be more specific. Something they'd know." Arthur was silent, but his expression made Morgause comfortable that she had his interest. "Is there anyone at all—"
"My mother," Arthur interrupted, his voice cracking. Merlin paled.
"Arthur, please, let's go," he requested, grabbing the prince's shoulder. He was shrugged off.
"Why are you so eager? Are you hiding something else?" Arthur snapped, and Merlin shrank away despite himself.
The prince looked resolutely at Morgause. "My mother," he repeated, his voice surer. "I have a question for my mother."
"Arthur," Merlin repeated for the hundredth time. Coming back from the meeting, the prince had ignored him, walking fast enough to make sure the young sorcerer was always a few steps behind. Merlin had barely made it into the boat, which Arthur had tossed into the water roughly, and the two had crossed the water in complete silence. Arthur had paddled.
Having reached the mainland on the other side, Merlin had climbed out of the boat, eager to pull it ashore as soon as the prince had disembarked. "Arthur—" Merlin pleaded again, but the prince was distracted by many, many things. As he stepped out into the water, Arthur's boot had caught on the rim of the boat, the oar tumbling into the water as the boat jostled angrily with the prince's frustrated jerks of movement.
"Bloody—" Arthur cussed as he bent down to grab the oar. But before his hand got wet, Merlin reached in, pulling the handle gently out of the water and passing it to Arthur with a look.
"Arthur," he said.
"Prince Arthur," the prince scolded. "What?" he spat, seeing the grim look on Merlin's face.
"Nothing," the sorcerer said, sloshing a few steps closer toward the shore. "Let's go."
"I'll go," Arthur said. "You stay here!"
"What? Why?"
"You knew," Arthur spat, and Merlin tensed. "You knew what she would say and you didn't think to tell me first?"
"I warned you to stay away."
"Oh, please, as if that makes a difference! You should have told me!"
"Why? Why would I tell you something like that?"
"Because—" But Merlin wasn't finished.
"How do you tell someone that?" he interrupted. "Oh, hello, Prince, haven't seen you since you threw me out of your castle because your father's trying to kill me for being me, but guess what I heard? Your father used a sorceress to force your existence, and when your mum died because of it, he went on a twenty-year-long revenge spree, killing everyone with an ounce of magic, including me—"
Here, Merlin broke off, as Arthur was suddenly attempting a left hook to the sorcerer's jaw. Not without a bit of déjà vu, Merlin's eyes flashed, and the boat, which had turned slightly with the current of the water, bumped hard into the back of Arthur's legs. Off balance, the prince fell backwards, landing in the boat with a thud.
And honestly, that's all Merlin meant to happen. But, whether due to muscle or his princely ego, Arthur's upper half carried a heavy momentum that caused him to keep falling backwards. The boat capsized.
For a moment, there was no movement in the lake beyond the ripples caused by Arthur's tumble. Merlin stood just about on dry land, and Arthur had only been a couple steps deeper, barely halfway to his shins. Then, breaking the peace, the prince stood, coming up under the boat, which lifted and fell with a splash.
Merlin couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Merlin," Arthur scolded. The boy continued to laugh. "Merlin," Arthur said again, though this time his tone had changed.
"I—I'm sorry—I really didn't—" but laughter made it impossible to continue.
Arthur, meanwhile, sighed, and trudged up to the sand, boots squishing and chainmail squealing. As Merlin's laughter died down (sort of), the prince fell to his rear, and then laid back, spreading his arms out and staring at the full moon. And then he, too, laughed.
Though amused, Merlin was watching his friend closely. As the prince began to laugh, Merlin's petered off.
"You know," Arthur said, gasping, "I could have you thrown in jail for that." Merlin smiled.
"Who do you think you are?" he joked. "The king?"
"No," Arthur answered, his voice suddenly very serious. "But maybe I should be." Merlin stepped up onto the sand, and carefully sat down beside his friend.
"One day," the young sorcerer answered, "You will be. You'll be a great king." Arthur let out a long, slow breath. Then he asked again,
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"To be honest, it's not mine to tell. And… and I don't know for sure if it's true. I didn't want to lie to you. Not about your father."
"Why would you care at all about my father? He'd kill you if he had the chance."
"He's your father," Merlin replied. "It ultimately doesn't matter what I care about him."
"So," Arthur supposed, "then you agree he's my responsibility."
"I don't know," Merlin admitted.
For a long while, the two didn't move, and they didn't speak anymore. Arthur lay on the sand, soaking in the earth around him, staring at the moon and the stars as his chest rose and fell. Merlin sat beside him, legs crossed.
The boy was thinking before he spoke again.
It was true, he didn't care too much for the king of Camelot. Merlin rather thought him a coward, and, for the past year at least, had been patiently waiting for Arthur to inherit the throne. But, he realized, he wasn't sure he wanted Uther killed, and he certainly didn't want Arthur to have any part of it. When Morgause had first told him of her hope for Arthur to know what she called the truth, a desperate play to motivate the prince against his father's ways, Merlin was unable to explain why, but a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it was wrong. Not just wrong but… a lie. He didn't know if Morgause's information was true, but even if it was, were Arthur to kill his father over it, the prince would be lying to himself. Betraying himself. Pretending that the coup was just, when a small voice in the back of Arthur's mind would tell him for the rest of his life that it wasn't.
And Merlin, though he'd only known the prince for a week and hadn't seen him since, had come to know that such a thing, such a small voice, would kill Arthur. Because Arthur, unlike his father, was a just and honorable man. Not a bit a coward, and not at all a liar.
"You know," Merlin finally said, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I'm not very old. But I think I've lived a lot." Arthur looked at him.
"What does that even mean?" the prince scoffed. Merlin smiled, but responded,
"Shut up, let me talk—"
"Shut up, your Highness," Arthur corrected, but smiled and Merlin knew he was just being a prat.
"Anyways, if there's one thing I've learned again and again, it's that the only person anyone needs to be totally and completely responsible for is themselves." Merlin paused, but when Arthur said nothing, he continued. "I mean, it's perfectly alright to worry about other people, to want to help them and protect them, but, at the end of the day, people are responsible for themselves."
"What are you saying?" Arthur asked, and Merlin struggled to clarify.
"Well, with your father. He's made his choices. He's responsible for the man he's become. There's nothing you can do about that."
"But if he's a hypocrite, an unjust deceiver whose choices threaten others…" Arthur trailed off, and though Merlin wasn't sure it was a question, he proceeded as if it was.
"Well, then, the choice you make, however you choose to deal with that, you have to be responsible for who that makes you."
"And just how do I make a choice like that?"
"Well," Merlin said with a small smile, "I suppose that takes something like courage."
Again, Arthur said nothing, but Merlin had no more to say. The two sat there for another while longer, and then, stretching, Merlin stood up. He offered Arthur a hand, but the prince, before taking it, finally had another question.
"If-if I kill my father," he started, his voice stuttering a bit, "who does that make me?"
"It makes you the same as any man that's ever killed another," Merlin answered. "Now come on, you can't lay here all night," and Arthur reached up, taking his friend's hand. As he stood, he smiled and asked one final question,
"When did you get so wise?"
Merlin laughed. Then he answered, "I spent a year in the woods."
"Say hi to Gaius and Gwen for me, yeah?" Merlin requested as Arthur fiddled with the straps on the horse's saddle. Then he blushed. "And give Morgana my best. Tell her… well, I'm sure she's fine," Merlin amended.
"Do you still have her cloak?" Arthur asked. Merlin groaned, leaning his head on the saddle. "She's going to kill you," was all Arthur could say before he laughed softly.
"No! Don't tell her!" Merlin pleaded. "I know where it is! I'll just get it back." It's probably still there, Merlin added silently, picturing the inn he'd been staying in up until a couple weeks ago. He was in such a rush to beat Morgause to the Isle of the Blessed, he'd forgotten the cloak in the dresser drawer. The tavern was a day and half's walk from the lake, but Merlin, with a renewed feeling of loneliness, realized it wasn't as though he had anywhere else he needed to go.
Arthur climbed atop the horse, and he leaned down slightly so that he and Merlin could clasp forearms in goodbye.
"Don't go pissing off anymore sorceresses, alright?" Arthur said, and Merlin smiled.
"I'll keep an eye on her," Merlin said. "I hope she'll just move on, but something tells me…"
"You can't save everyone, Merlin," Arthur said. "Sometimes, you just have to settle for worrying about them."
Merlin sighed. Perhaps the clotpole is right, he thought forlornly.
"Merlin," Arthur started seriously, and Merlin looked up at the prince sitting regally atop his horse.
"Yeah, your Highness?" Merlin was rather proud of that one. Arthur just rolled his eyes. Then he continued,
"Just stay where I can find you, huh? Don't get lost or anything."
Merlin smiled. "Don't worry, I keep a map in my back pocket at all times. That's a joke," he added as Arthur shot him a look. "I'm to the east, if you need me to clean your boots or something. Though, I imagine you've got someone else for that now, haven't you?"
"Oh yes," Arthur said, smiling proudly. "And he's far better at it than you were. Gets the soles and everything."
"Yeah, well, he'll ruin them that way, keeping them that clean," Merlin scoffed.
Arthur laughed. "I'll just have a new pair made then!"
"Would you get out of here?" Merlin exclaimed sarcastically. "Your Highness," he muttered with a mocking look from the Prince.
Without another word, just a soft cuff over the head, Arthur rode off, and Merlin turned, beginning his trek east.
hi all, sorry for the disappearing act. hope this makes up for it, and i hope everyone is having a wonderful winter.
as always, thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews. i love any feedback you may have for me.