Chapter 15: Resolved

When Merlin walked up to Arthur's chambers the next morning, he had Arthur's crown tucked underneath his jacket, unwilling to be seen with it and thought to be a thief.

He had spent a large part of last night mulling over what had happened in Morgana's chambers. He regretted how they had gone about the idea of replacing the leg. Not because he thought the idea was stupid – quite on the contrary, Merlin was completely convinced it was a great idea – but because they should have gone about it differently. They should have included Arthur, made sure he was on board with this.

Well, it was too late now.

When Merlin entered Arthur's chambers, he fully expected Arthur to be hiding in bed, but to Merlin's surprise, he was up and dressed. He was standing at the open window behind his desk, leaning against the window frame and staring into the sunny courtyard.

Merlin exchanged a glance with Morris, who was stripping the sheets off Arthur's bed. The manservant formed the word moody with his lips, jerked his head at Arthur, then gathered the laundry in his arms and was gone.

Bracing himself for another argument, Merlin stepped up to the desk and retrieved the golden circlet from inside his jacket.

"You forgot your crown last night," Merlin said in lieu of a greeting and placed it on the desk.

Arthur acknowledged the words with a grunt, but did not turn around. Merlin could only just make out his profile and true to Morris's word, he looked like he was in a mood, brooding.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Merlin spoke up after another a moment of awkward silence. "We all are, for passing you over like we did. We didn't take into account your wishes and that was wrong." He paused, then added, "Though it's really my fault, I think. I got way too excited about Gwen's idea and the others just sort of went along. So, if you're angry with anyone, it should be me."

Arthur let out a long sigh and turned his head. He gave Merlin a once-over, though he was not actually glaring. "Sometimes, I wonder about you," he muttered. "Can you stop being so damned good all the time?"

Thrown off, Merlin aimed for a tentative smile. "Good? And here I was, thinking I was an insolent peasant who didn't know his place."

"Oh, you're that, too, no doubt," Arthur readily agreed and Merlin was happy to see his lips twist into the familiar smirk. "Most of the time, though, you just make the rest of us feel inadequate with your—" Arthur waved his hand. "—thing."

Merlin's smile turned into a grin. "I didn't know I had a thing."

"You do," Arthur grumbled. "It's unnerving. Most of the time, I can't fathom you out."

Merlin's grin dimmed, thinking about the most important thing Arthur had yet to fathom out about him. "I see. Well, I'll endeavour to be more of an open book in the future."

Arthur snorted, then looked back outside. Very quietly, he said, "Check my desk. There should be a letter there."

Merlin leaned over the desk until he spotted a folded piece of parchment, closed with wax. Merlin thought he recognised the Prince's seal. He picked it up. "You want me to deliver this to somebody?" Teasingly, he added, "To Gwen, perhaps?"

Arthur huffed out a breath. "Don't be ridiculous." More stiffly, he added, "Go ahead and open it."

Merlin frowned, but went ahead breaking the wax seal and unfolding the parchment. It was not a terribly long letter, but the content was enough to have Merlin tense. "What is this?" he demanded.

Arthur grimaced. "You know fully well what it is."

Merlin curled his fingers into the parchment, uncaring that he was crinkling it. "You were going to order theriac directly from the apothecary?"

Arthur's eyes were back on the courtyard. "Had it all planned out," he said, calm in the face of Merlin's accusing tone. "I knew Morris or you would get suspicious, so I wanted to slip it to a page or hall boy after last night's dinner, along with some gold. I assume the apothecary wouldn't dare question an order bearing the Prince's personal seal and deliver the medicine, no matter how potent."

Merlin looked down at the letter again, rereading the words discreet delivery. With his initial surge of anger waning, he realised the obvious. "But you didn't send it."

Arthur closed his eyes and smiled tiredly. "No. I might have, though, had my father not caused a rather big distraction."

Merlin put the letter on the desk. "This was what you were writing after we went to the stables. The letter I wasn't allowed to look at."

"As always, your observational skills astonish me, Merlin," Arthur deadpanned.

"Thank you for telling me," Merlin replied gently. For a moment, he wondered if he should tell Arthur he was proud of him for resisting the temptation, but thought the Prince might not appreciate it and tell Merlin to stop patronising him again. "I'll have Gaius speak to the apothecary to tell them not to send theriac or poppy essence to the castle, if you like?"

Arthur gave a curt nod, then turned away from the window. He did not bother with the crutches for the short distance to his chair, opting for a hop on one leg until he could get a hold of the backrest. It struck Merlin, somehow, how much more mobile Arthur was these days, how well he dealt with his injury now that he had the practice and built some muscle.

He could be so much more mobile, though, if he were to get on a horse again. But Merlin was not about to breach that topic again.

"I've been thinking," Arthur said, once he had settled down.

Given an opportunity like that, Merlin could not help himself. "Did it hurt your head, my lord?"

To Merlin's delight, Arthur let out another snort. "If it did, Gaius's miracle pain potion made short work of the headache."

That had Merlin sober right up. "How is that working for you?" he asked carefully, knowing full well Arthur had been drinking nothing but bone broth, fish liver oil and bitter herbs.

"Quite well," Arthur muttered. "There's still some discomfort. I doubt I'll ever be rid of it, given the state of my leg, but compared to before…" He sighed. "But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about."

"You don't want to go outside today?" Merlin guessed. "The weather's great, though. We're well into summer now."

Arthur looked at him from across the desk. "Indeed. Three months to Samhain."

Merlin thought that over. "Yes, that's true." Then he caught on. "That's when Bayard and Edwyn are expected, isn't it?"

"Two weeks before Samhain, yes."

Unsure where this conversation was going, Merlin tried to gauge Arthur's state of mind, but his face had gone strangely neutral, a diplomatic sort of look. A prince's preferred expression, perhaps, if he were not prone to stay in his chambers instead of attending court.

"Do you think your father will really go through with this? Bargain away a third of Camelot so the Pendragon line lives on?"

Arthur waved a hand. "You heard him yourself. He's dead set on seeing this through if I let him."

Something in his tone had Merlin prod, "And will you? Let him?"

Arthur stiffened and averted his eyes. For a moment, it seemed Merlin had once more pushed him too far. Cursing himself, he was almost ready to apologise again, too, when Arthur spoke.

"No. I don't think I'll let him." He leaned forward, reached for the crown Merlin had delivered and started fiddling with it. "The consequences are too great, as are the possible repercussions. I know my father believes it is the only way for a Pendragon to remain on the throne, but he doesn't seem to realise how much this treaty would destabilise the kingdom. Morgana and her sons – if she has sons, mind you – would be faced with political uproar for years to come. And who's to keep Bayard from breaking the treaty as soon as my father is dead? He might put Morgana under house arrest and make sure Edwyn reigns without interference. He might sweep any children away to his own court and raise them as Mercians after all. Or he could force Edwyn to become his vassal and merge the two kingdoms to form Greater Mercia. Any of those scenarios will almost inevitably create factions among Camelot's nobility. Ultimately, that means war."

Merlin only half-listened to Arthur's political talk, too stuck on the meaning behind it. "You want to fight your father."

Arthur's hands stilled on the crown. "I must. Not for my sake, but for the sake of the kingdom. For the sake of my people. They need stability. There has been enough war and bloodshed with Mercia in the past decades. We only just made peace with them last year." Finally, he looked up. "The people of Camelot deserve a Crown Prince who doesn't shirk his duties. A Crown Prince who is willing to fight for them."

Merlin could not stop the grin from spreading on his face. "And you are willing."

"I am." On a whim, perhaps, Arthur lifted the circlet and placed the crown on his own head. "It's decided, then," he added.

A strange tightness spread in Merlin's chest, a feeling only amplified when a moment later, Arthur smiled, shily almost, and asked, "You'll be by my side for this?"

Merlin blinked rapidly. "Always, sire," he breathed and for some reason, it felt right to bow.

When he straightened and their eyes met, Arthur gave him a firm nod, eyes filled with some emotion Merlin could not quite interpret.

In the blink of an eye, it was gone, and suddenly, Arthur was all business. "Here's the problem," he said and folded his hands on the desk. "My father will not see reason. Even if I let you strap your silly branch to my leg and trod around on Llamrei, he is not going to accept me as his heir. All he sees is a cripple."

Merlin opened his mouth to voice some automatic words of denial.

"It's only the truth," Arthur added.

Merlin inclined his head, conceding the point. "What's the plan, then, if not to convince Uther that you're still fit to be Crown Prince?"

Arthur smirked. "Why, to convince everyone else, of course." He made an all-encompassing gesture. "The knights, the lords and ladies, the people… But most importantly, King Bayard."

"Bayard?"

"Obviously," Arthur went on. "Look at this from his perspective. Right now, he has a weakened King Uther of Camelot, who is willing to give up a third of his lands. All Bayard has to do is marry off his son to Morgana, the assumed Crown Princess of Camelot. As the youngest prince, Edwyn would be little more than a high-ranking knight at his eldest brother's court. In Camelot, he would be a king! Even with Morgana being only a legitimised bastard daughter—" He grimaced apologetically. "—it's a fine deal. He would be stupid not to take it."

Merlin nodded along as he once more tried to wrap his mind around the intricacies of succession politics. "So what do we do?"

Arthur leaned forward. "We make it an undesirable deal, of course. We've already got an unwilling bride. Add a slighted heir to the mix – a cripple, sure, but a cripple on a horse, with some support yet from the nobility and the people – and suddenly, the treaty might not look all that promising."

"On a horse?" Merlin repeated excitedly. "We're getting you back in the saddle, then?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That's what you've taken from all this?"

Merlin shrugged, unabashed. "It all sounds very clever, sure," he said dismissively. "Between you and Morgana, we've got the succession stuff well covered. Let me focus on the practical side of things."

"Succession stuff," Arthur drawled. "And here I was, thinking I would make you our next court genealogist yet."

Merlin stuck his tongue out, then said, "So, about that new leg?"

Arthur grimaced a little, but nodded firmly all the same. "Do some research. Talk to Master Wymond, too. Then come up with a suitable design."

"Brilliant," Merlin enthused and actually clapped his hands together. "I promise, I won't disappoint you, Arthur!"

Arthur's face softened. "I don't doubt it. You never do."

Merlin flushed, with pride as much as with discomfort. Thoughts of hidden schemes and secrets started creeping up on him and he was glad when Morris returned in that moment to give him an excuse to redirect his attention. "Morris!" he exclaimed and grabbed the servant by his shoulders. "Fantastic news! Arthur is going to get back on a horse!"

Morris shot Arthur a careful look to gauge his reaction, then allowed himself to get caught up in Merlin's enthusiasm, smiling as Merlin couldn't help himself and twirled them both on the spot in a little dance. "That's great," he said. "Do you need my help?"

"Of course! Yours and Morgana's and, oh, Gwen's, obviously! Did you know she actually knows how to forge? She uses her father's tools all the time. She'll be crucial in all of this!" He turned to send Arthur a wide grin, unfazed by the Prince shaking his head at his excited antics. "I'll be back as soon as I've got any concrete ideas, I promise!" He stilled. "Oh, unless you want to go out in the garden?"

Arthur waved him off. "As if I could keep you. I'm sure Morris is willing to accompany me in your stead. Off you go."

Merlin flashed him another excited grin, then left, racing through the hallways, running all the way to the physician's tower, much to the amusement of the guards and servants he passed. There, he demanded immediate access to all medical books from a bemused-looking Gaius while rummaging around for a quill and ink as well as last night's parchment, settling down to refine his first sketch.

"What are you doing?" Gaius dared to ask after watching Merlin scribble for several minutes.

"I'm making Arthur a new leg," he proclaimed. "Something we can strap to his thigh and knee so he can ride a horse."

"I see," Gaius replied in a strange tone. For a moment, Merlin feared this would be another argument in the making, with Gaius telling him not to be foolish, but he was wrong. Gaius settled down across from him, looked over the books and eventually pushed one of them into his line of sight, already opened. "Here. I found this while searching for the curse. It might come in handy."

Merlin's eyes widened when he saw the illustrations in the book Gaius had brought him. They were drawings of men and women, all missing parts of their body, some of them fitted with the exact sort of new appendage Merlin was aiming for – pieces of wood and metal, mimicking the missing limb.

"Oh wow," he breathed. "I didn't know there was already so much information on this."

"There really isn't," Gaius replied cautiously. "It's all quite experimental. There is nothing in here on how well these replacement parts worked. They could be mere concepts. I myself only know of Sir Gaheris's case."

Merlin nodded, recognising the name. "The one with the hook hand?"

Gaius smiled. "I see you've done your research. It was a rather crude solution. The hook had to be tied to his arm with tight leather straps so he could hold up a shield. The straps caused him a lot of discomfort and the hook could not be used for anything more complex, either, like eating or getting dressed. It was not a full replacement by any means."

"Well, all we need is a bit of leg," Merlin said. "And not necessarily for walking, though I'm going to look into that, too." He pointed at the parchment. "This one's solely for horseriding."

"I'm not saying any of this to discourage you," Gaius said. "On the contrary, I want you not to be discouraged, especially when, not if, you find yourself disappointed by your first attempts. This is highly experimental medicine, something I have no experience in myself. You're on your own."

"No, I'm not," Merlin grinned, tapping the parchment with an ink-smeared finger. "It's a group effort. I'll take this down to Gwen's later. She'll forge some of these parts for us, I'm sure."

Gaius arched an eyebrow. "I take it you've asked the Prince about his opinion on this matter?"

"Yes, he's on board. It did take some convincing." Merlin paused, quill hovering over the parchment. "Well, he convinced himself in the end." He grinned at Gaius. "He wants to actually fight Uther and remain his heir, can you believe it?"

He gave Gaius a quick recap, including the unsent letter to the apothecary, the latter of which had Gaius frown. "I will make sure to appraise them of the situation," he promised. "No poppy tears shall be delivered to the castle without my knowledge."

"That's good. We can't have him get tempted and reverse all the progress."

Gaius nodded grimly, then gestured at Merlin's work. "You understand all this will put a lot of strain on Prince Arthur, on top of fighting his addiction. I'm about to lower his dose again and you know how… unpleasant the first reduction was."

Merlin put down the quill and sighed. "Yes, I do know." He looked at Gaius. "Do you think there's a spell for that? To help fight an addiction?"

Gaius smiled sadly. "No. It would mean manipulating his mind, controlling it to some extent. Unethical, as well as dangerous. I'm afraid this is a battle Arthur has to fight on his own."

And it did remain a battle. As soon as Gaius lowered the dose again, Arthur's mood soured. But even more so than last time, he seemed to make an effort to rein himself in. Merlin had an inkling it had everything to do with the fact that this time, Arthur felt like he was doing it for a bigger purpose. He had a goal to work for now, an actual goal with a deadline, not just some vague promise of getting better, and it seemed to make all the difference.

Merlin tried to keep him distracted by keeping him appraised of the progress with the leg replacement.

"I've been talking to Master Wymond," he said after their usual walk around the garden. They were a couple of mornings into the next reduction cycle and Merlin was pointedly trying to ignore the way Arthur kept rubbing and prodding at his own skin, as if literally trying to scratch the theriac itch. "He believes we can use a regular saddle, as long your new leg has some sort of foot attached to it that can go in the stirrup. But there's going to be a lot of trial and error."

Arthur nodded vaguely, all the while shifting on the bench and picking at his skin.

Merlin looked him over, a little uncomfortable to bring up the next point, "There's also the matter of—um. Funds."

This, finally, had Arthur focus, hand stilling against his reddened skin. "Funds?"

It was Merlin's turn to fiddle with his hands and he let his eyes stray from Arthur's tense face. "I've gone through several good pieces of wood already, trying to get it right, and I don't know how much more metal Gwen can nick from her father before he'll put an end to our experimenting… So… I was only wondering… You know…"

"It's absolutely astounding to me how much of an idiot you can be sometimes," Arthur replied. The comment could have been cruel, but the fondness in his tone made Merlin look up. "Take any money you need, my personal coffer's full enough. I should have thought of it myself."

Merlin smiled shily. "Thank you."

Arthur shook his head at him. "Only you would thank me for funding my own leg replacement."

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. "I've been ruining a lot of nice, dry oak." With a scratch at his neck, he added, "Turns out it's pretty hard to carve a piece of leg." In fact, Merlin was already looking up spells to help him do it, as he seemed to have no talent for whittling and other woodwork.

Arthur sent him an encouraging look. "I appreciate you doing this for me."

"It would probably be easier if I was allowed to involve more people," Merlin replied carefully. "The royal carpenter, perhaps?" When Arthur didn't reply, he added, "I understand if you want to keep this quiet."

Arthur turned his head to look into the distance as he thought it over. "No," he finally said. "You're right. It would be silly to have a physican's apprentice and a smith's daughter do all the work by themselves. Especially when time is of the essence. If we want any chance of me looking proficient in the saddle by Samhain, we need a solution sooner rather than later, which means the best people need to be on it." He sighed, then said, "Consult anybody you need. Tell them the Prince sent you. I'll stamp a letter for you if anybody doubts your word."

Merlin bumped his shoulder against Arthur's. "Will do. Thank you."

Arthur smirked, shaking his head. "More unnecessary gratitude. You really are a complete idiot."

"Well, takes one to know one," Merlin quipped and didn't duck quickly enough to avoid the playful slap around his head. Rubbing the spot, Merlin added, "Have you put any thought into how you want to go about gathering support?"

Arthur huffed. "I should probably start first by trying to find out how much support I still have."

"And how will you do that?"

Arthur started scratching at his wrist again. It irked Merlin so much that he reached out and stilled Arthur's fingers. The Prince scowled, irritatedly shaking off Merlin's hand, then let out a wary sigh. "When I stop feeling like a thousand ants are crawling all across my skin, I'll start attending court. Sit in on some audiences with the King, if my father allows it."

"Why wouldn't he?"

Arthur gave him a look. "You remember how he thinks I'm an embarrassment?"

Merlin met his eyes evenly. "First of all, you're absolutely not. Second, I actually don't think the King believes it, either. If he thought you were an embarrassment, he'd lock you up in your rooms or sent you off and hide you away on some country estate."

Arthur gave him the side eye. "You're defending him? After nearly getting whipped over this exact issue?"

Merlin grimaced. "Well, I do believe the King has a poor way of showing he cares about you. And that he never should have said what he did." And that he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and a terrible human being for the most part. "But I've been thinking about that confrontation with him a lot and I've come to believe that he is mostly just wildly uncomfortable with the idea of you being, well…" Merlin gestured vaguely.

"A cripple?" Arthur suggested.

Merlin glared at him. "Different. Not like before."

Arthur studied him for a moment. "You never use the word," he pointed out. "Cripple. I haven't even heard you say I'm lame or invalid, even though I am so very clearly that. Why is that, Merlin?"

"Because I don't like those words," Merlin replied firmly. "They imply there's something wrong with you or that you're less, somehow."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "But there is something wrong. I am literally less. There's a big part that's missing."

Merlin shrugged. "I don't see it that way. And for what it's worth, I haven't heard other people use those kinds of words much, either. I know you told me that people call you Arthur the Invalid and similar, but…" He shrugged again as he trailed off.

"Well, I assume you primarily talk to servants and other peasants. Perhaps they have some respect yet for their Prince or simply wouldn't dare." Arthur rubbed a hand over his forehead. "But the nobility? The knights? Believe me, they are absolutely calling me a cripple." He leaned back on the bench. "I use the word myself, too."

Merlin gave him a pointed look. "Well, maybe you shouldn't."

Arthur tilted his head. "Maybe. But I found that it helps, using these terms myself. To harden myself, like you do when training. And to make them my own, in a way." He looked at his missing leg, then murmured, "They certainly hurt less that way."

Merlin's heart gave a painful lurch. Not for the first time, he felt humbled by just how much vulnerability Arthur was willing to show to him in moments such as this. There was no doubt they were friends, despite all odds, despite their ribbing and teasing, despite their difference in rank, and character, too.

Two sides of the same coin, the dragon had called them. Merlin did not know about that, but he certainly understood that what Arthur and he were sharing was as unusual as it was special. Perhaps destiny really knew what it was doing by throwing them together.

"You know I'll help you, in whichever way I can, right?" he thought to say.

Arthur sent him a serious look. "I don't know what I've done to deserve such loyalty from you, but yes. I do know that."

"It's not about what you deserve, it's about friendship," Merlin replied in the same serious tone. More lightly, he added, "Though I do appreciate you making an effort with Morris. You're much less of an ass overall. We're getting somewhere, I think, in the quest to cure you of your prattishness."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You make it sound like a disease."

Merlin grinned. "Well, it is. You should be glad you've got such a competent physician at your hand to heal you of it. Lucky it's not catching, or Camelot would be full of clotpoles and dollopheads!"

Arthur let out a long-suffering sort of sigh. "Why must I be stuck with an oaf like you for a companion?"

"You like me," Merlin assured him, still grinning.

"I barely tolerate you," Arthur replied, but couldn't quite keep the smile off his face.

"Come on, then, Your Lazyness," Merlin said and got up from the bench. "Another round or two and then, you've got a meeting with Gwen, if I'm not mistaken?"

"She's on Arthur Watch after you, yes," Arthur replied sardonically. "It's not a date."

"No? Then why are you wearing that fancy-looking silk tunic today?"

"Shut up!" Arthur growled and threatened him with a crutch.

Merlin grinned.

author's notes: I actually did a fair bit of research about amputees before the modern age and about riding with a prothesis. Humans have definitely been trying to replace missing body parts for centuries, though how successful that was pre-modern age is hard to judge. Riding seems to be a perfectly doable thing even with a missing limb, as horses can work with all kinds of cues and equipment can be adjusted to a person's needs. As far as I have gathered as someone who is neither a horse person nor an amputee, it really is more of a matter of keeping in the saddle and finding stability as well as being safe (getting on and off, not getting dragged along in case you take a tumble). Still, some suspension of disbelief is required here! Thank you!