A crumpled mop of a man loomed within the confines of Uther's chambers, skin drawn tightly over the bones of his face, so that his nose poked out of him like a sort of ruptured handle. His eyes hung between sunken hammocks of skin, and his fingers were splotched grey and brown with age. The man turned to Arthur and curled his lips back.

Arthur acknowledged the man as formally as he could manage, then turned to his father. He'd finally brought up the courage to talk to his father, and now that he'd arrived...

"Arthur," Uther addressed him. "I was about to summon you." He gestured to the older man. "We have a privileged guest."

The old man bent himself with a creak of muscle. "I am Eadwin," the man told him, as though that were a normal name. Arthur coughed. "And I have been employed under your father as a witchfinder."

When Arthur could not help but make a face, Uther endeavored to add, "as you know, Arthur, this tactic paid us no benefits before, but now I have been pressed to take on certain, less orthodox measures." He threaded his hands together behind his back, and continued; "You may be familiar with the story of the various, ah, handprints, along the tables and corridors of the castle, for example."

Arthur berated himself profusely. He should have paid more people off, should have controlled his anger, should have told Uther sooner. Arthur mumbled a noise of confirmation.

"I have been suspicious of the staff for a number of months,"-Uther was always suspicious of the staff-"and actions need to be taken to address the situation properly."

"I have no qualms with your decision," Arthur lied.

"Very good. Eadwin, have you anything to say?"

"Nay."

"And Arthur?"

"I'd very much like to retire to my chambers." He raised his chin, and turned his head so as to address his father. "Unless you need me for something more?"

Uther had a look on his face that made Arthur's skin crawl, like he knew Eadwin made him uncomfortable. Eadwin made him feel physically sick, and he clenched his fists so as to not clutch them at his stomach.

"That will be all," Uther told him, very slowly.

Arthur thanked them both, and waddled from the room.

Merlin pried the last metal clasp from Arthur's uniform. There was a sharp snap, and then a final, squeaky heave as Merlin yanked the plate away from Arthur's chest. Arthur leaned himself forward, and Merlin tugged another bunch of metal from his torso. He dumped the last touches onto the carpet, then sagged to bundle up the mess he'd made. Arthur watched him with, yawned, and then turned and made for his wardrobe.

Merlin continued to kneel beside the armor. Once he'd created a neat pile, he staggered, and pulled the metal from the floor. His footwear 'squelched', and Arthur noticed a hole on the toe of his left boot for the first time.

Arthur was surprised by Merlin's face. His hollowed-out expression made him nervous. His eyes were sunken over bags of skin, with the kind of dark underbelly that alluded to a restless sleep...

Arthur wasn't concerned, really he wasn't. His hand did start to burn a handprint through the wardrobe as he leaned against the old wood, however, and he bounced back to prevent any further damage. Arthur picked a sliver from his forefinger, and watched as Merlin turned to him.

"Anything else, sire?" he asked, and shuffled the load in his arms. His right pant leg, which had been rolled up, slid down the length of his calf.

Arthur stared at him. He allowed his hands to drop to his sides, only to raise them again and pin them behind his head. He didn't want to burn his clothes.

"You said you were worried about me," he began.

A muscle move don Merlin's face. His neckerchief was rust-colored, choked with dust. "Something like that," Merlin assured him, and scratched at his chin.

Arthur lowered his hands. "Well," he told him, seriously. "Whatever you are worried about, me or otherwise, you should stop."

Merlin frowned.

Arthur groaned. "I'm okay, Merlin, really," he continued. "There's no need to be so concerned."

Merlin only shrugged, and a metal shoulder pad toppled out of his arms. The pad clapped against the floor. Arthur groaned again. He was about to stoop and help his friend, as a gesture of some kind of apology-he was tired of Merlin's discomfort, and he wanted his friend back-when there came a rap at the door.

Merlin's head whipped up with such fervor that a muscle popped somewhere, and another plate slipped to the floor, to spin about on one side like a tossed coin. Arthur, too, turned to stare at the door. Arthur's underclothes were presentable enough, red and and black and well-washed, but he threw a robe-one draped over a side table-over his shoulders all the same. He felt Merlin's eyes on him as he moved, and the hairs along the back of his neck prickled up like the brushes of a misused comb.

Arthur groped around for the handle with sweaty fingers. He pried open the door with a nudge, and was met with the prune-shriveled face of Eadwin, nose upturned as usual so that Arthur's first glimpse of the man was down the furry burrows of his nostrils. Arthur brought up a hand to steady himself on the doorway.

"Eadwin," he said, and tapped his knuckles hard against the wood. Steam curled from his clasped fingers, and he uncurled them with a wince.

Eadwin stared up at him eagerly. "Sire," he asked; "may I examine your quarters?"

"Examine my-"

"Sorcery," Eadwin announced. He opened his colored palms and gestured around him; "sorcery everywhere. Your rooms positively reek."

"Do they," Arthur replied, and swallowed back a loud gulp. There was a smack behind him as Merlin dropped several more metal plates. They rolled about with much verve. Eadwin peered over his shoulder with his watery, beetle eyes, as Arthur felt his cheeks go red.

"Do you mind?" he asked, after a moment.

"Oh," Arthur assured him, "not at all. Nothing to hide here." He convinced himself that he needn't worry; Eadwin was probably about as much of a fraud his predecessor, and would be discredited soon enough regardless.

Arthur removed his hand, then himself, from Eadwin's way, and assumed a half-decent casual stance as Eadwin 'shlumped' his way over the threshold. His wobbly knees cracked like knuckles as he moved, and his throat bulged with the weight of his adam's apple.

Eadwin coughed once, passed his congested nostrils.

Merlin was on the floor at this point, busy with Arthur's armor. He'd already assembled a bundle again, and as he rumbled to his feet, he clenched his neck muscles.

Eadwin slugged his way onto the carpet and towards the bed. Arthur watched, nervous, as he lifted several pillows, then the sheet. Arthur suddenly thought of the pot under the bed, and then, the book under his clothes on the shelf of his wardrobe. A bead of sweat prickled his brow as Eadwin dragged the pot from beneath Arthur's bed.

"Odd," Eadwin commented, raspily.

Arthur made a small noise at the back of his throat. He didn't know what to do.

Eadwin did not say much else for a while. First, he toed at the carpet, then studied the marble tub. His search of the wardrobe occurred with practiced precision, and, of course, he unearthed Gaius' book.

Here, Eadwin did turn to Arthur. "How did this get here?" he asked.

Arthur's forehead was slick with sweat, now, and he clapped his head on his forehead as an excuse to scrape his sleeve across his brow.

"Oh," Arthur told him. He was going to have to lie, then. Oh, fun. "I haven't said anything until now, but I might as well, now that you've found the both of them."

"The both of them?"

"Yes, the pot and the book." Arthur reached over and clapped Merlin on the shoulder, whom had been positioned at his right, and the same wad of shoulder pad rolled out from beneath his grip again. Merlin tensed. "Merlin here," he assured Eadwin, "wanted to make some tea."

"Some tea," Merlin managed.

Arthur nodded. "Oh yes," he assured him. Arthur doubted anything serious would come of him using Merlin as an excuse; everyone knew he was about as sorcerer-like as a cinderblock. He stooped to nab the shoulder pad from the floor. "Very much so. He helps Gaius, our physician, out with certain, ah, potions and things, Eadwin, and so he decided to surprise me with a good old cup of tea, and he grabbed a tea book from Gaius' library."

"He helps with potions and things," Eadwin repeated.

"Oh yes," Arthur adlibbed. "Now, Merlin here," he gestured to him, "well, he's a bit of a clot."

"Oh, am I," Merlin grumbled.

"See? A clot," Arthur continued. He smacked Merlin again, this time a touch harder, on the shoulder. "So he thought he'd brew a large amount, so as to please me all the more. He came up with a big pot and that tea book there, but before he could fill the pot with water from the tub or collect the herbs he'd need, I'd arrived at my chambers. And so, this bugger here"- this was possibly the worst lie he'd ever told, Arthur conceded-"hid the pot under the bed and the book under my clothes. I saw him, of course, but I didn't want to tell him so, so as not to spoil his ploy."

"Ah," Eadwin said. His umbrella-hook of a nose was tucked between the musty pages of Gaius' herb book, and the skin of his purpled lips was drawn tight, so that his chin stood out like a beet against the rest of his face. He scratched at a birthmark on his neck. "I see. But see here, too, that there lies a spell, between these pages."

"Does there really," Arthur said, as though this were news to him.

"Oh yes," said Eadwin. He turned a page, the worn one that Arthur had propped open with his sweaty fingers, and his eyes found the runes along the left side of the page. He made a noise of confirmation, then turned his head up to Merlin, where he was stuck beneath Arthur's arm.

"You, boy," he addressed him.

Merlin gulped, and Arthur thought he felt a tremor surge up his spine from where his hand was rested on his neck. Arthur did not know why he was so nervous.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Did you really get this book from, ah," Eadwin treated his neck to a final scratch, "this Gaius fellow?"

"I, erm, I suppose so," Merlin said, when Arthur prompted him with a squeeze of the hand. "Gaius doesn't use that book, though," he emended, to Arthur's confusion. "I'm the one who makes the tea, for him and for Arthur."

Eadwin glowered at him. With a worn finger and thumb, he dog-eared the page, then clapped the book shut. A few dust particles trailed from the closed pages.

"You do, do you?" he asked, slowly.

Merlin's neck was pink. Arthur's worry doubled; he'd wanted to adlib an excuse as to why a pot and an herb book had ended up tucked beneath his bed and a pile of old clothes, not to cause his friend such discomfiture. He'd really had enough of the whole ordeal by now, anyway. Arthur opened his mouth, but Eadwin beat him to the punchline:

"Sire, I must ask that you have your servant leave the room."

Arthur relaxed, and removed his hand from Merlin's shoulder, where his palm had come to rest. He gestured him out, and Merlin bundled himself and Arthur's things away. His footsteps were heavy and uneven, made worse by the clap of his secondhand boots.

Eadwin stared at the wall for a long time.

"There's a handprint on your wardrobe," he said.

Arthur swallowed.

"And the pot beneath your bed has been touched by sorcery. There are burn marks along the edges, where fingertips met the metal."

Shit. Shit shit shit. His excuse hadn't been enough, and now Eadwin thought he was a sorcerer, oh gods. Arthur smoothed down his robe with a gentle motion. "What do you suppose that means?" he ventured, as best he could manage.

Eadwin leaned forward.

"A sorcerer frequents these quarters," he said.

"A sorcerer."

"Yes." Eadwin hefted himself upward, book still pressed between the knotted muscle of his hands. He started for the door. "I will keep this book, should you not mind, sire. I will need a while to ponder this matter with more seriousness."

Arthur nodded. "Of course."

Shit, shit, shit…

"He knows."

Gaius spilled his bowl-full of minced dried pepper all over the table and his clothes. The man grumbled something and swiped the worst of the pepper from his shirtfront, then turned to Merlin, who was flopped against the wall as though pinned there.

"Merlin," he began, slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. He has your tea book, and there's an old man that looks like a mop in his quarters."

Gaius scooped the last of the pepper dust from the table. He deposited his load into the bowels of a thin tin cup, then wiped his hands. "Go on," he prompted.

Merlin swallowed. "Arthur set me up," he said. "He had me carry up a pot to his quarters. Then he hid your tea book under a pile of clothes, and then," Merlin paused here to to press his hands to his knees, "then he called up a witchfinder to his quarters-"

"A witchfinder?"

"I'd heard rumors that one had been employed, and I wasn't really...but he was like a hound dog, Gaius. He patrolled the room and overturned every nook and cranny. Arthur had put the pot under his bed, and he found that, and the book, and Arthur told him that I had tried to make him some tea, and-"

Gaius had slowed his movements now, so that his hands hovered over the lip of the tin cup with his fingers outstretched. A few peppers lay lopsided and discarded to one side of the table.

He gestured Merlin on.

Merlin slumped forward, to occupy a chair near the table. He thumped his head against the wooden surface. "Arthur made absolute certain to tell the witchfinder that I helped you out with potions. Then the witch-hunter found runes in the tea book. Do you even have books with runes, Gaius, besides your spellbook?"

"Only the one," Gaius said, his face concerned now. "The exception being my tea book."

Merlin hoisted his head up onto his arms. "You're serious?"

"It's a harmless spell, for boiling water. Barely noticeable."

"Well, the witch-hunter noticed," Merlin reassured him. "He asked after you, so I made sure to say that I was the one to make teas, but now he suspects me and-" suddenly, he could not muster the strength to continue, and he collapsed again against the table.

"What do I do, Gaius?" he asked. "You should have seen his face…"

Gaius' muscles were so tense that he couldn't budge. The two men sat across from each other, peppers forgotten on the skin of Gaius' hand and along his shirtfront. "Merlin," he said, steadily. "Are you absolutely sure that what Arthur did was purposeful?"

"He set me up, Gaius," Merlin said, again. "He called a damn witchfinder up to his quarters to catch me with an apparent potions book and a brewing pot."

"Merlin."

"Why else would he have sent me up to his chambers with a pot of water? Why else would he have taken and poorly-hidden your tea book, the only book on your person with any sort of runes?"

"Yes, yes, I see," Gaius conceded, and the table creaked under the weight of his arms as he leaned forward, "but we ought to consider, Merlin, as to why Arthur would want to conduct such an elaborate scheme? His… 'setup' was rather odd, and surely such a strange tactic would only call attention to himself and his actions. Why would he not go to his father directly, and oust you that way?"

"Because he's sadistic? Because he likes to see me struggle?" Merlin guessed. He slapped the table. "I don't know, Gaius. But why else would he have done any of this? It doesn't make any sense."

"Perhaps you ought to ask him."

"Ask him? I can't-"

"Yes," Gaius assured him. "You can. Arthur told you that he wanted to talk about sorcery some time ago. Perhaps he'll hold himself to his own word." Here, a few spots of pepper trailed down his front, and he dusted them away angrily. "You have every right to ask about something Arthur broached himself," he continued. "So ask, Merlin. As carefully as you can."

The hallway was dark, and cool. Eadwin was awake, nose buried between the musty parchment paper Gaius' tea book-Arthur had passed his rooms-but the rest of the castle was asleep, curled under their heavy wool comforters. Arthur had been unable to sleep. His body was hot and sweaty, and he worried that should he lay against the same spot of fabric for too long, the sheets around him would combust.

Arthur knew that Eadwin was stupid enough to try and expose him as a sorcerer. As to whether or not Arthur could convince everyone otherwise, he was not so certain.

Several times, Arthur heaved himself around to start for his father's quarters, only to turn about-face again and start for the opposite end of the castle. What was so hard, he demanded of himself, about talking to his father? All he had to do was admit to him that he'd been possessed, right?

Perhaps what stopped him each time, so surely, was his own uncertainty. Arthur did not feel possessed. He felt confused, and-well, yes, scared. And angry at himself, and his father, and he wasn't sure why.

What had really made him dry heave, when he'd made that water boil, was not how depraved he had felt, but how…

Wonderful. How…wonderful he had felt with himself afterward. The warmth that rumbled up his stomach, the heat that soothed his sore muscles. He'd felt so natural, so calm. So Arthur Pendragon-y.

How could that have been a result of possession?

Somehow, Arthur was unsurprised when he registered the all-too-familiar 'clip clop' of old boots over the throb of his thoughts, and he looked up.

Merlin acknowledged him with a small motion. His eyes were no better, nor his posture.

"Have you gotten any sleep?" Arthur demanded of him, though gently. When Merlin only shrugged, he heaved himself forward and stood before him.

A few moths clustered around the candle Merlin had brought with him, slumped over on a saucer between his hands. A bundle of the moths teetered off the plate, a collection of beige and brown. Arthur watched them for a moment.

"So," Merlin said. His nightclothes were dull and cream-colored. He lowered the plate. "You wanted to talk to me? A while ago, I mean."

"Yes," said Arthur.

Merlin looked at him. "All right then," he prompted.

"About sorcery."

"More or less."

Arthur wrenched his hand around through his lint-filled pockets. He thought about how to word this. Arthur didn't want to come right out with his situation, so he responded with subtlety;

"A few weeks ago, I...came to a realization."

Merlin's frown deepened. Arthur took a moment to stare at him, then turned his head down and continued. "I… didn't know what to do."

"How long have you known?" Merlin asked of him, slowly. Arthur craned his head up to look at him again. He realized, now, that Merlin must have puzzled out Arthur's odd condition weeks ago. He might have been a clot, but Merlin would have seen Arthur's collection of burned prints nonetheless. That would have explained his fear of Arthur's proximity, and his unusual behavior, as well.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know," he said, in response to his question. "I definitely found out a couple weeks ago, but, really, I think I've always known. One way or another."

"You have?" Merlin murmured. The candlelight caused his face to glow, and a moth scurried across a wad of cooled candle wax near his thumb. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I don't know," Arthur said again. Then, "I guess I didn't want things to change. And, well, you know how my father treats...sorcerers." Here, Merlin tensed. "I'd been taught, ever since I was born, that sorcery was something sinful, something to be ashamed about. I didn't want to accept… the reality of the situation."

Merlin swallowed loudly.

"Will you tell Uther, then?" he asked. "Or… have you already?"

"I haven't," Arthur said. "I couldn't bring myself to."

"What about that, ah-"

"Eadwin?"

"Yes. Him."

Arthur grumbled something and tucked up his sleeves. "He knows, I'm sure. I shouldn't have let him search my quarters, but otherwise he would have become even more suspicious."

"You certainly didn't make him any less so."

"I didn't know what I was doing," Arthur told him, with a groan. That was something he had never said before, he realized. "I should have known that the lie wouldn't do any good."

They stood like that, after Arthur's comment, for a long time. A nub of wax dripped from the candle on his saucer. Merlin's eyes were dull, still, and blackened.

A moth trailed up the length of Arthur's arm, and he did not shoo the thing away for a while. He watched the creature crawl along the expanse of fabric that draped his upper torso, and felt nervous, to say the least. His gut was knotted up and nausea surged against the meat of his stomach.

Finally, Merlin asked, "what should I do, Arthur?"

Arthur felt something well up within him at Merlin's tone; something warm and heady. He wanted, suddenly, to press himself closer to him, reassure him with a gesture of kindness, but he couldn't seem to bring his boots up from the floor.

He raised his chin. He didn't know. He really didn't know.

"Don't change?" he suggested, because that was all that he really wanted between them right now.

Merlin looked at him.

"Okay," Merlin managed. As Arthur turned away, he asked, "where are you going?"

"To my chambers," Arthur said. He felt woozy, his head heavy. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he had to get away from Merlin before he did something stupid.

Merlin called after him: "will you explain more to me later? About the book, and the pot-?"

"Tomorrow," Arthur assured him, over his shoulder.

He felt Merlin's presence melt away, and squared his shoulders as he started for his chambers.

"You talked to him?"

"Yes."

"And you were right?"

"Yes. He did know. He's known for at least two weeks."

Gaius stared up at Merlin, from where he lay extended over the rumpled surface of his bed, tangled up between moth-eaten blankets. He squinted up at Merlin through his poor eyes, then rubbed one with the back of an aged hand. Merlin had woken him but moments before to share the news, and sleep still slowed his movements. He seemed calm enough, but his tone was low as he grasped Merlin by the sleeve of his coat.

"What else did he say?" he managed, fingers taught.

Merlin shut his eyes, then peeled them open again. He was exhausted. "He said that he tried to talk to Uther," he mumbled, "but he couldn't bring himself to."

Gaius slumped against his pillow, so as to communicate his relief.

"Surely that's a good thing," he said, at Merlin's doubtful expression.

Merlin only stood there, beside his bed. "He still tried, Gaius," he reminded him. "And he said that he'd been wrong to lie about me and the pot and the book, but-"

"Arthur told you that he was wrong?" Gaius repeated, dumbstruck. At this, he wrinkled up his brow, and set his mouth. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then surely, Merlin, he must be truthful. Arthur would never have admitted to something as 'serious' as being wrong unless he were being completely candid…"

"Candid about what?"

"About everything," Gaius told him, urgently. "Merlin. If Arthur still trusts you with what he told you, even after he'd learned of you being a sorcerer, and still asked you to...did you not say he asked to you stay as you were?"

Merlin nodded sleepily down at him, and Gaius assured him, "He still wants to rely on you, Merlin. He'd still have you, as yourself, regardless. I'm sure nothing wrong can come of that."

Ermergerd, sorry this took so long to update xD ughhhh school. I'm still behind on shtuff. Oh well! Aha, moth and light symbolism, yum yum.

Happy Sunday, everyone! Reviews are wonderful, as always, and I really appreciate all the feedback you've already posted... there were so many things I needed to edit! You're all great, thank you so much.