Chapter XXXIII: Fighting Fate

"Arthur, please."

"Morgana…."

"I'm not being ridiculous. You know I'm not. You know it's a very real possibility."

"It's a real possibility for my knights, too, not to mention the rest of its victims. I have to do this, Morgana."

"Sire," Gwen interjected, "if you fall, Cenred will have a claim to Camelot. That will mean war."

Arthur shook his head, stubborn as a mule. "And if I cower in my castle while my people suffer, then I'll be no better than Cenred."

Morgana and Gwen exchanged exasperated looks. Merlin sighed, tempted to join them, tempted to tell them it wouldn't work. He knew Arthur well enough by now to guarantee it.

Besides, if Arthur didn't go, then Merlin didn't go, and if Merlin didn't go, no one would be able to kill the blasted Questing Beast. Not to mention the possibility of another sort of danger….

Merlin strongly suspected that Nimueh was involved with the Questing Beast's attacks. They usually stayed away from people, Gaius said, but this one had gone through three separate villages, destroyed a granary, and frightened several families out of their homes. Oh, the creatures appeared at times of great change, but usually they were glimpsed by lone travelers on the road, families in the field, hunters in the wood, not dozens or hundreds of people at once. (Well, okay, technically the largest group of people who had simultaneously seen the creature numbered one hundred seventy-seven. That was close enough to 'hundreds,' right?) The point was, the Questing Beast was acting strangely, and considering Nimueh's previous antics, it wasn't much of a stretch to conclude that she had something to do with it.

"You'll be bitten if you go," Morgana said, with a terrible quiet certainty. "The Questing Beast's bite means death, Arthur. If you go, you'll die."

Arthur huffed. "Nice to see you have such faith in my fighting skills."

Morgana grit her teeth. Her fingers twitched as though she was fighting the urge to reach out and strangle her foster brother. "You can't kill this thing. It's a creature of magic, you know that. You can't win this."

"I hardly think—"

"No!" Morgana grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his flesh. "No, Arthur, you can't win this, I know it, I know you can't win. Please stay home, Arthur, please." Were those tears in her eyes? Yes, they were.

Arthur shot an uncharacteristically helpless look at Merlin, who returned the expression. "I'll protect him," the manservant said.

"Yes," Arthur said quickly, "that's right. If it comes after me I'll just throw Merlin at it."

"Hey!"

Morgana glared. "Don't even joke about that, Arthur Pendragon." She swallowed hard. "It's a creature of magic, Arthur. You can't kill it without magic. Let your warlock kill it."

Miracle of miracles, Arthur hesitated at that. Only for a moment, but it was still hesitation. Merlin was impressed. Then the prince explained, "First off, he's not my warlock, and I can't risk the lives of my people on the whims of some mad spellbinder who's taken a bizarre liking to me. Besides, how do you know he knows anything about magical creatures?"

"Because he's fought them before," said Morgana.

Merlin froze.

"Remember the griffin from last summer?" Morgana asked. "A farmer came in talking about a man-eating monster approaching Camelot, but it never showed up. It just disappeared."

The prince shifted. "It could have died of natural causes," he pointed out. "That's not proof that my spellbinder killed it."

"But it's suspicious, don't you think? A creature of magic gets too close to Camelot and dies."

"Came too close to Camelot," Arthur repeated, seizing the opportunity. "There's no guarantee that he'll follow…." But his words trailed off into silence, and a pensive frown adorned his face. Finally, he conceded, "If the spellbinder decides to help me again, I'll let him. Is that enough for you?"

Merlin's grin could have split his face.

Morgana's expression was more subdued, but before she could say anything, Leon strode into the hallway. "The knights are ready to depart, sire," he reported.

The lady crumpled. "Please," she whispered one final time.

"I'll see you when I get back," Arthur replied.

"I'll protect him," Merlin murmured, lingering a few moments. "I promise, Morgana, I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe."

"Thanks," she mumbled, but her heart wasn't in it. "You're a good person, Merlin. Never let that change."

"Right," he mumbled. "Thanks. I'll do that." And he scurried after Arthur.

Their horses and fellow fighters were awaiting them in the courtyard. Merlin attached his bag to the saddle before climbing onto this old bay mare. Everyone else's saddlebags had been attached, but Merlin didn't want to risk someone opening his. He couldn't fit his stave, but his druid clothing was incriminating enough. Probably.

As he and his king-to-be rode through the streets of Camelot, Merlin let his mind wander. At first he considered the implications of Arthur promising to let 'his' spellbinder (not Merlin's favorite appellation, but the prince hadn't given up the name Emrys yet, so it would have to do) go free, but then his thoughts shifted to Morgana. He didn't like seeing her like that, so afraid and desperate. It gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and not just because of her chilling, unfortunately infectious certainty that Arthur would meet his doom within the next few days. He didn't enjoy seeing her this way.

Actually, Merlin mused, he didn't think he'd ever seen Morgana behave like this. The bandit army in Ealdor hadn't inspired such fear, nor had the wraith, nor had anything else that he could think of. Maybe she'd acted like this when Arthur went off to retrieve the mortaeus flower, but Merlin rather doubted it. Morgana hadn't known about Nimueh, the cockatrice, or the spiders that Arthur still occasionally muttered about (usually when he was annoyed with Merlin). Was it just that the Questing Beast was a creature of magic? But the wraith was clearly uncanny as well, and she hadn't come to Arthur's tent to beg "Arthur" to step down. And anyways, her fear was heavily mixed with dread and horrified confidence rather than the uncertainty that Merlin and the other villagers had experienced before Kanen's charge.

Something nagged at the back of Merlin's mind, but the more he tried to pin it down, the slipperier it became. Eventually he gave up, pondering instead how he should approach the situation before him.

Should he don his Emrys guise and speak with Arthur? Maybe. It might be difficult to get the prat away, though. They were with knights, not guardsmen, and knights were a bit better at their jobs.

Although that really wasn't saying much….

Well, Leon was here, at any rate. Leon was a lot less oblivious than Arthur (again, not saying much) and there was a very good chance that he'd investigate if Arthur snuck out. While Merlin could take him, he didn't particularly want to. He rather liked the curly-haired knight.

So should he sneak off when they were close to the Questing Beast? That seemed pretty risky.

Well, he had a long time to think about it. Hopefully he'd come up with a plan before it was too late.

"Morgana?"

The lady did not respond. Gwen slipped inside her chambers anyways, her arms full of books. Her friend didn't notice, for she was sitting at her window, gazing out into the courtyard.

Gwen hated seeing her like this. Morgana wasn't just her mistress, she was her friend as well. A friend cursed with magical dreams, yes, and therefore a dangerous friend to have, but a friend all the same. "I brought you some books," she stated, sitting down beside her. "You didn't actually see Arthur die, right? You just saw him get bitten. Maybe there's a cure somewhere but it's been forgotten over the years and we can rediscover it in one of these." She patted the tome in her lap.

Morgana arched a brow as she glanced at the books. "That's hardly likely, Gwen."

"Perhaps not, but it's better than just waiting here for the worst."

"…I suppose." Morgana tore her eyes away from the window. "Where did you get these?"

Gwen flushed. "I told Geoffrey that Gaius had sent me to fetch any books that might have information about the Questing Beast, just in case he missed something."

Morgana's eyes went wide. "You did what?"

Gwen grinned sheepishly. "Well," she mumbled, somewhat defensive, "I didn't think he'd let me take them if I didn't say something like that, and maybe Gaius did miss something, but he's not really looking for anything he's missed because he thinks he hasn't missed anything, so we ought to instead."

Her friend's lips twitched. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This isn't the first time you've displayed your diabolical cunning."

"Excuse me?"

"Remember the rubies?"

"I'm not diabolical!"

"I'm certain."

"How is it diabolical to want to protect my friends?"

Morgana chuckled. "I suppose you're right."

Gwen smiled back, glad that she'd taken her dearest friend's mind off her troubles, glad that they could perhaps find a way to help their companions.

A year ago, she would never have expected to call Prince Arthur her friend. He was… well, Merlin hadn't been lying when he called him a prat. But then Arthur had changed and Gwen had gotten to know him a fair bit better, and she had realized that he actually wasn't half-bad.

It was Ealdor that had changed their relationship. Before, they had been cordial to each other, polite and friendly without really anything more than acquaintances. Perhaps they were a bit more comfortable with each other than they would otherwise have been, for Morgana was dear to them both. They certainly hadn't been on bad terms, though they hadn't exactly been on good terms either.

Then they went to Ealdor and Gwen had scolded him and he had thanked her for it (which she still occasionally had a hard time believing), and they'd started really getting to know each other. They'd spent most of the journey back to Camelot talking, first about swords and armor and then about themselves. Gwen spoke of Elyan and their parents and growing up in Lord Leodegrance's household, and Arthur told her about the two years he'd spent as Sir Ector's fosterling. Morgana and Merlin had sometimes chimed in, but Merlin was quieter than usual, melancholy about leaving home, and Morgana had taken it upon herself to cheer him. It seemed to have worked—Merlin was certainly more cheerful when they arrived back at Camelot—but Morgana's mission had essentially left Arthur and Gwen with each other.

The maidservant hadn't really expected their new rapport to continue after that journey. After all, Arthur still tried to pretend that he and Merlin weren't friends (though who he thought he was fooling, Gwen had no idea. There was an enormous underground betting pool about when and how Arthur admitted that his servant was more than just a servant. Gwen had ten coins on "within Merlin's second year at Camelot." Morgana thought it would be in Merlin's third year. Rumor had it that even King Uther was in the pool), so he was hardly likely to continue befriending a girl who wasn't even his servant. But the prince had surprised her again. He had made a point of including her in his conversations with Morgana, listening to her frequently stuttered input with a good deal of attention.

So now they were friends, and she had one more reason to save him.

They spent the afternoon pouring through books, skimming the pages for any mention of Questing Beasts. They didn't find anything useful: a couple mentions of how the creature appeared at times of great change, a few references of how its bite was always fatal.

By sunset, they were tired and hungry and more than a little discouraged. Gwen fetched their meals from the kitchen. When she returned, it was to find Morgana staring absently off into space.

"Have you have an idea?" Gwen asked, not really convinced.

Her friend sighed, shook her head. "No. Nothing about how to save Arthur. But I've been thinking. The books say that the Questing Beast is the herald of the new age. Well, there's a Questing Beast running around now, so what's it heralding?"

Gwen frowned, her brow wrinkling in thought. "I hadn't thought about that," she admitted, "but you're right. It's supposed to mean something."

Morgana shrugged. "Unless it's superstition. That's always a possibility."

"But you don't think so."

"Gaius says that the Purge began right after a Questing Beast had been seen in Gedref. I heard him telling Uther about it. And there have been other times…. There was one when Sigan laid the foundations of the city and one in the east just before the Roman invasion. So what's going on now?"

"I don't know," Gwen murmured. "Have you Seen anything in your dreams?"

For once, Morgana didn't wince at the mention of her magic. "I Saw that warlock, the one who saved Arthur from the wraith, the one who's been with me since the beginning. He was stretching his hand toward the sunrise, and all of Camelot was covered in his shadow. I Saw two great birds locked in battle, one dark and one bright. I Saw a man in broken shackles. He looks like Arthur, but he looks like Merlin too. I Saw that stupid road. I'm closer to the fork now, but I've still got a ways to go." She paused, suddenly frowning. "Arthur wears a crown in that vision. Not a prince's crown, a king's crown."

Gwen sucked in a breath. "You think that the Questing Beast signals the start of Arthur's reign?"

Morgana chewed her lip. She rose, began pacing. Gwen watched her with worried eyes. Their food cooled on the table, but neither woman paid it any mind. "I don't know. Maybe. Is that a big enough change to provoke a Questing Beast?"

"I have no idea," her friend admitted. "I suppose it depends…." Her voice trailed off as realization struck like a bolt of lightning. "Oh," she breathed, eyes enormous.

"What is it?"

Now it was Gwen's turn to stand and pace. She didn't meet her lady's gaze, paid no attention to the world outside her head. "Last time a Questing Beast was seen, Uther banned magic," she whispered.

Morgana froze, immediately realizing the implications. "Arthur is becoming more sympathetic," she breathed.

"He is."

Morgana's pacing became quicker, more agitated. "But it can't be that. The Questing Beast is going to bite him, and it's supposed to be invariably fatal."

"Supposed to be," Gwen reminded her, hope fluttering behind her ribs. "He was wearing a king's crown, you said?"

The Seer froze, her green eyes huge with shock. "And I've been having that vision for months. Again and again for months, Gwen."

"So there has to be a cure," the maid breathed. "A cure, Morgana!"

Her friend's face lit up in joy and wonder. "A cure," she murmured, suddenly hopeful. "You truly think so."

"What else could it be?"

"I suppose I could have interpreted things wrong—"

"But you don't think so either."

"No," she said, looking once again at the books. Her jaw tightened with determination. "Come on."

Their renewed optimism lasted through the night. They stayed up late, pouring over the books by candlelight until an owl hooted outside and they finally realized the time.

Gwen didn't realize how tired she was until she arrived home. Her dad had waited up for her, concern in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad," Gwen assured him, leaning over to bestow a quick kiss on his cheek. "I just lost track of time, that's all."

"And you're worried about them," her father guessed.

Gwen flushed. "Well, yes. Morgana and I were researching the Questing Beast."

Tom winced. "That might not have been the best idea, sweetheart," he told her. "She has enough nightmares already."

"Perhaps you're right," Gwen admitted, mentally kicking herself for not thinking of that. Not that it would have mattered, of course, what with her dreams being prophetic, but surely she had some mundane nightmares, right? Gwen told herself to remember to ask

"You've at least eaten, right?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. Her smile didn't last long, however, for a yawn welled up in her throat.

"Go to bed, Gwen," her father advised.

"Okay." She embraced him briefly. "Night, Dad. I love you."

"Night, Gwen. I love you too."

She dreamed of Arthur that night, Arthur upon his father's throne, but he was covered in bite marks that dripped red onto his clothes, his seat, the floor. Yet no matter how much he bled, his flesh never paled, nor did his eyes dim.

What kind of king would he be? Gwen pondered that question as she made her way back to the palace. A good one, she thought, for he put the good of his people before himself. Uther cared for exactly two other people: Arthur, his son, and Morgana, the daughter he'd never had. Uther wouldn't care if the rest of the world burned so long as they remained safe. Arthur, though, would do everything in his power to protect as many people as possible, regardless of the consequences. Yes, the prince still had a lot to learn—as Morgana put it, he was something of a blockhead—but between her and Merlin and the natural process of growing up, he was getting a bit better. Slowly, but progress was progress no matter how slow.

"How did you sleep?" she asked Morgana upon entering the lady's chambers. Her friend was already awake, sitting at the window in her nightgown with a book in her lap. Without another word, Gwen offered her a plate of fruit and cheese and porridge. Morgana accepted it with a smile and a murmur of thanks. She was in a much better mood this morning, Gwen noted, alive with a secret optimism.

"I slept very well," she said. "I was on the road again with my warlock." (Gwen did not comment on her phrasing, but she couldn't help a quick grin.) "He refused to tell me what was going on, of course, but he did say that he'd be by Arthur's side when he found the Questing Beast." The lady's lips curved up, her green eyes lit from within. "And he said that we could talk more about it in the waking world."

It was a good thing Gwen had already put down their plates, because she would have dropped everything at that. "You're going to meet him?" she breathed.

"That's what I said," Morgana whispered back, eyes bright with excitement and hope. "He just smiled at me like he knows something I don't, which he probably does."

"This is wonderful," Gwen told her. And it was: Arthur would live, her friend would soon receive professional magical health from a powerful warlock, and it was entirely possible that the Purge would end and people like Morgana and sweet little Mordred wouldn't have to live in fear anymore. Arthur was just a bit blockheaded, but give him a sensible queen and good advisors and he would make a truly great king.

"Do you think that your warlock knows a cure?" Gwen asked.

"Maybe, or maybe your brilliant idea paid off and we'll find a cure."

"Maybe," Gwen acquiesced, reaching for another book.

The next few days passed in much the same way, though their enthusiasm waned as they poured through books without discovering anything new. Morgana in particular was becoming frustrated. Her dream guide was refusing to say anything about the Questing Beast (or anything else, for that matter) and she had yet to meet him in the waking world.

On the sixth day after its departure, the hunting party returned. Some of the members were wounded, but none so badly as Prince Arthur Pendragon, who had been bitten by the creature.

"We didn't find a cure," Morgana hissed, dragging Gwen into one of the castle's many hidden crannies. "We looked through every single book, and we didn't find a cure."

Gwen forced herself to sound considerably calmer than she felt. "But you saw him better, Morgana. Arthur will be fine. Surely that warlock will know what to do."

Across the castle, Merlin Caledonensis burst into his guardian's chambers. "Gaius," he said, eyes wide and frightened, "Arthur's been bitten by the Questing Beast and I don't know what to do."

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Merlin Does Not Come up with a Plan Before It's Too Late"

Next chapter: January 29. We learn what happened on the boys' adventure and Merlin searches for a way to save Arthur's life.

Happy New Year!

-Antares