Chapter XXXII: The Keeper and the Unicorn

For once, Merlin was glad to accompany Arthur on one of his hunting trips.

Uther was in rare form these days. He had sent men out after the druids rather than wait for his son's return, which had upset Arthur when he returned. Merlin wasn't quite sure why and didn't know if he wanted to know, so he didn't ask about the prince's reaction. Hopefully, Arthur had wanted to go along to mitigate the damage, if not sabotage the entire enterprise. Hopefully. Probably, Merlin tried to tell himself, but that didn't make the queasy little feeling in his stomach go away.

But the point was, Uther had sent out men practically the minute Arthur left the citadel. They had gone on missions all over the kingdom, hunting for druids to butcher. Three hundred knights had ridden forth… and not one of them had slain a single druid.

There were still two parties that hadn't returned, but one had sent word ahead (no, Sire, nothing) and Merlin and pretty much everybody else highly doubted that the last group of knights had been any more successful than the first nineteen companies.

His one worry was that someone might suspect Gaius. It was hardly uncommon knowledge that the physician had once practiced sorcery, and Uther had recently accused him of softening Arthur's views of magic. No one had said anything so far, but Merlin had seen several people shoot penetrating stares at his mentor when the man's back was turned.

Fortunately, no one had gone further than suspicious staring. This was because Uther had decided it was all Merlin's fault. Well, not Merlin so much as "that blasted sorcerer who tried to steal Arthur's face," but still Merlin. Emrys. Whatever. The point was that the king had already decided on his culprit, and in a way, he was right. Merlin had been the one to convince Gaius to go to Blaise if the knights were sent out before his return.

The guards had just finished another search of the city, going through houses in a failed attempt to find Merlin's alter ego. They did not succeed. Gaius and Geoffrey had suggested that "the sorcerer" had gotten his information from scrying, which had made Uther frown almost thoughtfully. "He could not have scried within the castle itself," the king finally said. "But once the companies left…." He ground his teeth together. "Gaius, you need to research non-magical ways of protecting against scrying."

"Of course," the physician had replied. He'd spent the last four days buried in books, making Merlin take on the lion's share of medical work in addition to his servant duties.

So, between the overwork, Uther's foul temper, and Arthur's foul temper as a result of Uther's foul temper, Merlin was rather glad to get away from it all. He just wished that it wasn't a hunting trip. Couldn't they take a nice walk or go for a ride or something? But no, Arthur wanted to shoot at some innocent little bunnies that had never done anything to him, and Merlin had to follow the prince everywhere except the privy, so he had to tag along too.

Still, despite his worry for those poor bunnies, Merlin found himself enjoying the day. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and a bunch of other pleasant things were going on. It was just him and Arthur, who hadn't found any prey yet but was already unwinding.

"Beautiful day," Merlin observed, grinning up at the cloudless sky.

"Yes," Arthur agreed, "but we're hunting, Merlin. That means you have to be quiet."

"None of the other birds are being quiet."

"What?"

"The other birds," Merlin said, gesturing vaguely at the trees. "Merlins are birds, you know, and the birds are singing."

"What have I told you about trying to be funny?"

"Don't do it in front of your father," was Merlin's automatic reply.

"Just don't do it," Arthur corrected him. "And don't sing either."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but then Arthur waved his (unloaded) crossbow at him and he shut up instead.

They kept going for awhile before stumbling across some tracks. They followed the tracks to one of the biggest rabbits Merlin had ever seen. It took one look at them and bolted, diving into a hole not two feet away from its original location. Arthur didn't even have time to load his bow.

"That was your fault," the prince proclaimed.

"Excuse me?"

"You're too noisy," Arthur groused. "It heard you coming a mile away."

"Then why was it looking directly at you?"

Arthur didn't respond. Instead, he covered Merlin's mouth. The warlock glared, already planning a snappy comment about how forcibly shutting him up wouldn't make him any less right, but then he heard it too. Something was moving through the trees. Something big.

Not more bandits, Merlin thought. And he didn't want it to be exiled Sidhe either. Or a griffin. Really, there were a great many things that he didn't want the large something to be. Hopefully it was just a deer.

"You're going to flush it out for me," Arthur murmured, so low that Merlin could hardly hear him. "And no, you don't get to protest."

"And if it's a bandit?"

Arthur just grinned and hefted his crossbow.

Merlin huffed softly but obeyed. He slunk around the little clearing he knew was right ahead, examining the trees to see which ones, if any, were rotted. Nothing. Well, he'd made branches fall from un-rotten trees before and no one had said anything, so he could probably get away with it again. Arthur could be extremely oblivious sometimes.

Then Merlin saw what was in the clearing, and all thoughts of banditry fled his mind.

The unicorn was beautiful, with fur the color of molten moonlight and chestnut hooves and a crystalline horn that glimmered with rainbows. The tail and mane were a bit darker, smoke instead of silver, and its large, soulful eyes were blacker than jet. Those deep, solemn eyes were fixed on Merlin, who stared back, transfixed. He didn't blink. He barely breathed.

Though most of Merlin's attention was on the creature's head, part of him took in the rest of the unicorn. Its legs were long and lean, its back straight, its neck a graceful arch. It was beautiful, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The unicorn lowered its head. Its forelegs bent, and for one horrible second Merlin feared that Arthur had shot it, that it was collapsing in pain and weakness. But no. It was… it was bowing to him, this incredible creature of magic had seen him and was kneeling before him in an equine gesture of respect. It was bowing to him, its face bathed in rainbows, its eyes respectful and knowing.

"Merlin?"

The voice jolted Merlin out of his trance, reminding him that they weren't alone. Arthur was here too. Arthur, the hunter, who was right there with his crossbow nocked and ready to fire.

"Don't shoot," Merlin begged. With some effort, he dragged his gaze away from the unicorn, which had come out of its position of reverence and was also turning to face the prince. Arthur stood in plain sight, his arrow loosely held to the bowstring but pointing down into the earth. He was staring at the unicorn with a hesitant, uncertain expression, his brows furrowed together.

"Don't shoot," Merlin pleaded again. The thought of that white pelt pierced and stained with red made bile rise in his throat. "Please, Arthur, please don't shoot."

The prince frowned. He lifted the bow ever so slightly (Merlin's heart leapt into his throat), lowered it, raised it again. His head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed, taking aim. The crossbow ascended, arrow pointed directly at the unicorn.

"No. Arthur, please."

Arthur's hands were shaking.

The unicorn nickered softly, almost curiously. It took a step forward.

"Merlin."

"Arthur?"

"Get out of the way."

"What?"

"Get out of the way," Arthur snarled. "This thing is going to run right past you once I shoot."

"No!"

The unicorn's head jerked up at Merlin's cry of horror.

Arthur grit his teeth. His shaking hands stilled. "I'm not going to shoot the bloody unicorn, Merlin. I'm going to scare the damn thing away from Camelot."

"Oh." Merlin's shoulders drooped with relief. "Oh, good."

"Yes, good. Now move."

Merlin moved, taking cover behind a tree.

Arthur loosed.

The arrow plunged into the ground by the unicorn's feet, kicking up an explosion of earth. It danced back, the very picture of grace, then turned on its heels and ran. The creature vanished almost immediately into the trees.

Arthur lowered his bow, wiped a hand across his brow. His face was slick with perspiration, though not from the heat of the day. Looking at him, Merlin realized that he had been sweating too.

"How very interesting."

Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. Across the clearing, Arthur leapt half a foot into the air, spinning to face the source of the voice.

There was an old man standing with them in the clearing, someone who Merlin was quite certain had not been there before. He wore white robes only a few shades lighter than his hair, and his blue eyes were almost as dark and deep and knowing as the unicorn's had been. In one hand he clutched a staff, though Merlin would bet Beóthaich that it was no ordinary walking stick.

The old man smiled his approval at them. "I was sorely afraid when Nimueh stole Cloudmane from her herd, but it seems I ought not to have worried."

"Nimueh?" Merlin breathed.

Arthur's response was louder. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am Anhora of Gedref, Keeper of the Unicorns."

"Keeper of the…. You're a sorcerer," Arthur realized. His grip tightened on his bow, but he didn't reach for another arrow. Merlin decided to count that as a victory.

"So I am," Anhora confirmed, completely unconcerned with the armed, dangerous, and potentially hostile warrior before him. "A mage."

Arthur's entire body was rigid, tight as a bowstring before firing. "What are you doing in Camelot?" he demanded.

"I sought Cloudmane," the old man explained. "Nimueh stole her away, doubtless in the hope that you would shoot her and invoke a terrible curse upon your entire kingdom. You did well to listen to your advisor and spare her."

"Who exactly is Nimueh?" Arthur asked. Was it Merlin's imagination, or did he sound a mite less hostile than before?

Something flashed in Anhora's eyes. "Ask your father," he advised. "Now I must needs return Cloudmane. Farewell, both of you."

"Wait—"

But Anhora was gone. No spell, no whirlwind, just there one moment and gone the next. According to Blaise, that indicated a great deal of finesse as well as power. Merlin found himself very glad that Anhora was friendlier than Arthur.

The prince swore. Merlin ignored him.

"Anhora?" he called tentatively, extending just the barest finger of his magic. "Are you still there?"

"Well met, Lord Emrys," the elder spellbinder replied.

Merlin choked a little. "I'm no lord. I'm just Merlin. But what I wanted to ask was, did Nimueh give any indication of what she was planning?"

"No, 'just Merlin,'" Anhora answered. "I could deduce the purpose of her theft well enough, but I know not what she will do now that this scheme has failed. Rest assured, however, that she will not penetrate my defenses again." There was a hint of stolid resolve in the mind-voice, steel and stone and good old-fashioned stubbornness.

Merlin smiled slightly. "Good. Um, what exactly would have happened if Arthur had shot the unicorn?"

"A horrible curse would have befallen Camelot. Wells would dry, grain would rot, crops would wither in the field. Milk would sour, wine spoil, and maggots burst from even the freshest meat. Beasts would bring forth stillbirths and human women would fail to conceive. Famine and disease would fall upon the land until the killer had atoned or perished."

"Oh," said Merlin, a bit queasy at how close they'd come to utter destruction.

"You have done good work with him," Anhora said. "But now I truly must return to the Labyrinth of Gedref. You are welcome to come at any time, if your heart desires and your duties permit. I would be honored… Lord Emrys."

"I'm not—" Merlin began, but the connection shattered. Anhora had returned home.

"Merlin!"

The warlock started, surprised to hear a voice outside his head. "Arthur?"

"I said," Arthur growled, "that we're going back now."

"We are?"

Arthur moaned, lifted his face to the heavens. "Why?" he whined.

"Because your father gave me this position after the first time I saved your life, that's why."

"Remember what I've told you about trying to be clever? No, don't answer that," he amended, correctly interpreting Merlin's mischievous eyes and open mouth as a comeback in the making. "Let's just go home."

Merlin smiled, gave an exaggerated courtly bow. "As His Highness commands."

"…Shut up, Merlin."

"Nimueh."

"Anhora."

The two spellbinders glared at each other, their expressions thunderous. "You went too far, Nimueh," the Keeper of the Unicorns growled.

The sorceress inclined her head. "You have my apologies, Keeper."

The warlock scoffed. "Apologies mean nothing without sincerity, and only a fool would think you were sincere. Do you think me a fool, Nimueh?"

Red lips curved up. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I believe that you have us confused."

Darkness flared in Nimueh's eyes, but she covered it with a sweet little smile. "Oh? Tell me, my dear old friend, do you find my attempts to overthrow the monster who would burn us all—us and your precious unicorns as well—foolishness?"

"Yes, I do. Shall I list the reasons why?"

"Go ahead."

Anhora frowned, doubtless expecting a trap. He waited a moment for the next part of Nimueh's statement, but when it was not forthcoming, he inclined his head in resolution. "Very well. First, you are a fool for invoking the curse of the unicorn. You are a High Priestess. You ought to know better than to dabble in wild magicks!"

Nimueh made a heroic effort to not roll her eyes and almost succeeded.

Apparently oblivious to his audience's disdain (or, more likely, choosing to ignore it), Anhora continued, "Second, you are a fool for making Emrys your enemy."

"You're wrong," Nimueh interrupted. "Emrys is a fool for making me his enemy."

"So you know who he is," Anhora said.

Nimueh shrugged. "I didn't at first," she confessed. "I thought him some idiot young mage content with crumbs when he deserved the whole feast. Then I realized that Merlin Caledonensis is not just Merlin Caledonensis."

"And yet you oppose him all the same." Anhora tilted his head. "Why? You are aware of his destiny, are you not?"

"Of course I am," the sorceress snapped. "Emrys is the one to restore magic to the land, the one to end the time of smoke and darkness." Her eyes bored into his. "He is also the one who chooses the Once and Future King."

Anhora shook his head. "The gods chose the Once and Future King."

"No, they did not," Nimueh hissed. "The prophecies are very clear that Emrys makes the King. Would you like to know why I stole your unicorn?"

The change of subject obviously caught Anhora off-guard. Nimueh didn't wait for him to answer. "I sent the unicorn to Merlin to show him exactly what his precious prince was made of. It was a test that I knew Arthur Pendragon would fail."

"And yet," Anhora reminded her, "he did not."

Red stained the priestess's cheeks. "And I'm sure your meddling had nothing to do with it," she sneered. Once again, she denied Anhora the opportunity to answer before carrying on. "With the unicorn dead and the kingdom cursed, Merlin would have been forced to choose another King, a better King. Gods know it wouldn't be difficult to find someone more suitable than Uther Pendragon's son."

"Ygraine Pendragon's son, perhaps?" the Keeper suggested.

The woman's mouth twisted. "He looks like his mother, aye, but his heart is all Uther. Don't you dare bring Ygraine into this."

"Why not?"

Nimueh whirled towards him. "Because Ygraine was my friend, and Uther has dishonored her memory enough without you adding to it. Don't push me on this, Anhora." Her fists clenched, and a spark of gold lit her eyes. "You will not like the results."

"As you say," the man murmured, inclining his head, "her memory has been dishonored enough." He looked up, his eyes almost pitying. "But this does not change the fact that destiny has chosen Ar—"

"Destiny has chosen Emrys," Nimueh reiterated. "Emrys chooses the King. Haven't you read the Albion Cycle?"

"I have," Anhora replied. "Many times. And I must confess that I'm not at all familiar with the prophecy you're referencing."

This time, Nimueh didn't bother trying to not roll her eyes. She wanted Anhora to see. "The prophecies call him the Kingmaker. They are very explicit about that."

"Making a king—even this King—is not the same as choosing him."

"Clearly you're not ready to see reason," Nimueh sneered.

"Strange," Anhora retorted. "I was about to say the same."

"Whatever for?" Nimueh demanded. "I'll leave your little ponies alone. You have my solemn word. Isn't that reasonable of me?"

"And what of Emrys?"

"Emrys will be safe, Anhora. Fear not."

"And the Once and Future King?"

"Didn't I tell you? The Vates prophesied that no Pendragon would die at my hand"

"Nimueh—"

But she was gone.

Back in her cave, Nimueh seethed. How dare that self-righteous do-gooder question her! She was the one who had fought for their kin while he cowered in his little maze. She was the one who saw reality as it was, not as Emrys clearly wanted it to be.

Damn them all.

It took her a long while to calm down. When her reason returned, however, it was accompanied by just the quietest little whisper of doubt. What if Anhora was right?

No. No, that was abject stupidity. Emrys chose the King, and Emrys had chosen poorly. She didn't know what had possessed him to latch onto Uther Pendragon's son, but latch he had.

On an impulse, Nimueh glided to her scrying bowl. One spell later, an image (complete with sound) appeared.

Cornelius Sigan had enchanted the castle at the heart of his citadel so that no one could scry within its walls. Cornelius Sigan had died long ago, though, and while his anti-scrying spells had been maintained for a very long time, that had obviously come to an end when the Purge began. There were a few places in the castle that Nimueh could not spy—the physician's chambers being one such place—but her target was in his bedroom, pacing from wall to wall while his deluded fool of a guardian watched.

"I've never seen him with that expression," Arthur Pendragon said. He spun on his heel, began another lap around his bedroom. "If I didn't know better…." He shook himself. "Well, Merlin, I don't suppose you have any brilliant ideas?"

"Um…. We could ask Geoffrey?"

Arthur stopped pacing in favor of gawking at him.

Merlin flushed.

"That's actually not a bad idea," Arthur said slowly.

Merlin grinned, his blush gone. "See? I told you I'm useful to have around."

Nimueh continued to watch them as they ambled through the hallways to the library, where old Geoffrey of Monmouth was hunched over a book in Latin.

After exchanging the mandatory pleasantries, Arthur got down to business. Always direct, that one. "Geoffrey, I'm looking for information about a spellbinder named Nimueh. What do you know of her?"

Well. Nimueh's eyebrow arched.

Geoffrey fidgeted. He glanced at Merlin as though asking for help, but the warlock simply shrugged, his face innocent and guileless. "We were in the forest and an old man came out of nowhere and told Arthur to ask his father about Nimueh. Then he disappeared and we figured out he was a spellbinder, so Arthur decided to do it, but when he asked Uther—"

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur interrupted. "My father was busy, so he sent me to ask you."

Geoffrey relaxed. "Ah. If that is the case…. The king dislikes speaking of her, but Nimueh was a dear friend of your mother's before the Purge."

"She was?" Arthur exclaimed.

"Yes. Nimueh was a High Priestess of the Old Religion. She helped Uther win his kingdom back from Vortigern. As a reward, he named her one of his chief advisors about magic. When Ygraine came to court, she was quick to befriend her. They were practically inseparable while she was pregnant with you." The old man's smile faded. "They… the king and Nimueh had a… falling-out… after your mother died. Few people know what exactly it was about, though there were obviously a great many rumors. But it ended in Nimueh storming out in her grief and fury."

Mostly fury, Nimueh thought.

"And then my father began the Purge," Arthur murmured, clearly deep in thought. Nimueh wondered if his thoughtfulness hurt. "Thank you, Geoffrey. That will be all."

Nimueh released the spell.

The priestess was not often faced with doubt. That evening, though, she couldn't help but wonder if….

No.

No. What was she thinking? Had she really considered allowing Uther Pendragon's son to sit upon the throne of Albion?

Never.

He was not the King. Emrys was a fool, that couldn't be helped, but if he saw proof that Arthur Pendragon was not his liege—was not his destiny—then he would choose someone worthy of the crown.

Of course, considering how stubborn Merlin had shown himself to be, the only proof he would accept was Arthur's rotting corpse.

Nimueh shrugged slightly. It was for the warlock's own good; he'd get over it eventually. Perhaps he would thank her one day, once he realized the depths of his stupidity in trusting a Pendragon, for that was a hard and painful lesson that Nimueh herself had only learned through devastation.

So she sat back and began to plan. Her scheme with the unicorn had failed spectacularly, she had to admit. It had had too many opportunities for interference, too many variables. First Arthur had to kill the unicorn, then people had to realize that he was the direct cause of their suffering, then they had to tear him limb from limb.

A smirk crossed the sorceress's mouth as inspiration struck.

Perhaps it was time to try something a little bit more direct.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Two Sarcastic Young Males Encounter a Pretty Prancing Unicorn in the Woods and Neither Takes the Opportunity to Make an Obvious 'Virgin Maid' Joke at the Other's Expense."

So the unicorn is fine, and not (just) because I'm trying not to drag this out. Merlin doesn't entirely realize the implications of this because he has no access to the canon verse where 'Emrys' wasn't so active the unicorn was not-so-fine. He knows it's a good thing that Arthur deliberately spared the unicorn-protected it, even, by scaring it away-but he doesn't realize how much of a change this is.

About Nimueh's apparent beast mastery... Honestly, I don't think that she was responsible for the griffin and unicorn in the show. Maybe she was and I just didn't notice. However, she is behind them in this verse because I'm trying to create a (slightly) less monster-of-the-week, more problems-connected-by-a-unifying-malicious-force storyline in order to create a more concrete ending. Hopefully that makes sense.

Next update: New Year's Day. We learn what Nimueh is up to, Merlin does some deep thinking, and Gwen gets another POV. Until then, Merry Christmas!

-Antares