A Question of Destiny

by Alaia Skyhawk

Destiny. For him it is both burden and blessing. How fair that fate lead to that friendship, how cruel that he must lie to protect it. The question being what more will destiny ask of him? What price to obey it? Prequel to A Question of Motives

36. A Matter of State 'Part 3'

Alaia Skyhawk:

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Music: The Mark of the Raven, The Burdens of Duty, The Forged Seal (Merlin OST)

"Whom History Won't Remember" Episode: "A Matter of State (Whom History Version)"

~(-)~

Chapter 36: A Matter of State ~Part 3~ (Destiny Version)

It was seriously weird to be being dragged through the streets like this, well, not dragged but certainly firmly led. He could see the locals glancing at Fyren when he passed by, shaking their heads in amusement before carrying on with whatever they'd been doing.

And he was starting to wonder if that was the point.

"Fyren, why do you pretend to be stupid?"

His muted question didn't make the other servant stop, although he did pause during a moment they were out of view of anyone.

"People tend to say things they wouldn't otherwise, when they think you don't have the brains to understand what they're talking about. Isn't that why you do it? I can tell you're not as much of an idiot as the prince seems to think."

Merlin snorted.

"Yeah well, it's not like I did it deliberately. Taking a swing at Arthur when I didn't know who he was, getting thrown in the dungeons for it, and then ending up accidentally making a fool of myself on a few other occasions... It all adds up. I've stopped even bothering to try and change his mind now. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own eventually."

Fyren started to chuckle, although his expression didn't change from what Merlin now knew was a faked idiotic smile.

"I wouldn't hold your breath. I've been set to tend to him during his stay, and he's driving me crazy because he's thinks I'm 'mentally debilitated'. He speaks to me like I'm a small child. I told Lord Hargren in no uncertain terms, that if he assigns me to wait on Arthur on any future visits, then he's going to find himself with something unpleasant tucked into his bed. I agreed to the humiliation of doing this whole act thing, but only on the condition I get to speak my mind to him in private. He gets more out of this arrangement than I do. I can't even go to the tavern."

They'd reached the shadow of the manor walls, Merlin starting to splutter in surprise.

"Lord Hargren knows it's an act?"

Fyren glanced back at him.

"Of course he does. Who do you think suggested it? I suppose you could call me his spy inside his own manor. I keep tabs on the nobles living here, and let him know if any of them are about to cause trouble." He started to chuckle wickedly. "You should see how they sweat when he has them hauled up to his study for a warning. They still have no clue how he keeps finding out about their little scandals. Anyway, that's why he sent me to talk to you. When we got back from the tournament, I told him I thought you were smarter than Arthur gives you credit for. So I figure he also wants me to suggest you fulfil a similar role for Arthur, since most everyone in Camelot already thinks you're a twit. No offence."

Merlin winced.

"None taken, and I sort of do that anyway, but for Gaius mainly. He's the only person who really takes me seriously."

"I'll bet." Fyren's voice had an odd tone to it for that remark, but before Merlin could query it he was already being led through the manor gate. But no sooner than the servant had pulled him off to one side out of the main flow of people through it, than Fyren began to swear under his breath. "Ah shit. Why now?"

Merlin looked where he was looking, to the garrison set inside the manor walls. A black pennant had been raised above the walls.

"What is it?"

"Execution pennant... Stay here, I'll be back in a minute."

He pushed Merlin to stand against the inside of the walls, darting away back to the gate and discretely tapping one of the guards stood there on the shoulder. The guard shook his head as if irritated by the 'half-wit', but then he followed Fyren off to one side and out of sight... So, it looked like Lord Hargren wasn't the only one who knew about Fyren's act. Chances were the lord had a whole network of informers inside his own castle to keep tabs on all the known troublemakers.

He stayed there, leaning against the wall as he thought about it. Hargren clearly had more sense than Uther. The king just assumed his guards and knights would spot trouble, never accepting that if you wanted to find out if people had dark secrets, the only people with a real chance of discovering them were the people who were 'invisible', that is the castle servants. He, Merlin, knew about no less than three recent affairs by various knights. He knew who it was who had stolen Sir Raoul's cloak pin, a recent fracas that had resulted in no one being arrested and said gold cloak pin quite likely melted down and sold off for some quick money. And just look at when he'd exposed Valiant. Yes, if you wanted information, then you needed to ask your servants... That is if they trusted and liked you enough to risk their necks telling you what they knew.

Fyren came back after a couple of minutes, the guard returning to his post by the gate while the servant took Merlin by the arm and led him via an obscure route across this side of the estate.

"It's the guy I thought it would be. They caught him less than an hour ago."

Merlin frowned, glancing at the servant beside him.

"Who?"

"Some idiot in town, who was openly using magic to break into warehouses and steal from them. He seemed to think his magic made him untouchable, but it was only a matter of time before he got cornered." He sighed. "He's a local guy, well known, well liked... or was. No one had a clue he had magic, but it looks like he got sick of working for a living and started stealing from his neighbours. There was a spate of thefts, but there was never sign of forced entry. It wasn't until he got cocky that it was found out he was behind them."

Merlin was now feeling a bit uncomfortable. He could see where this was going.

"What happened?"

Fyren grimaced.

"One of his friends caught him using magic to break into a workshop, but hesitated to tell the guards because he was his friend. The by time he'd done that, the guy had rushed home and packed his things. Everyone thought he'd skipped town, until he started showing up out of nowhere, openly breaking in in front of people, then running off before the guards could be called. He got more and more overconfident, taunting Hargren by deliberately waiting for patrols to pass and then breaking in anywhere and grabbing anything, even if it was worthless. But he's paid for it now... Lord Tarven had the patrols changed, so that they went around in pairs just a couple of minutes apart."

"They trapped him?"

Fyren nodded.

"Yeah, but he made a real mess when they did. Almost killed one guard, and nearly set fire to a load of nearby houses. Tarven's got no choice but to make the execution immediate. The guy's proven himself too dangerous to wait until morning. Sad fact is, if not for things being the way they are, that guy probably would have come quietly. Sure he made a mess, but according to my friend on the gate, the patrol that caught him said he wasn't that strong. Stealing isn't a capital offence, he'd have gotten ten years on the farms, but unfortunately magic is."

Merlin went quiet, muttering under his breath. Someone had used magic to steal? And then taunted the town guard? Magic didn't make you invincible. It wasn't something to be toyed with like a game. He'd learnt that the hard way, luckily enough not losing his head in the process. But even before then he'd never have used it for something so foolish.

"Idiot... Using magic like that is just asking to be killed. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Fyren didn't appear to notice his muttering, or simply didn't see them needing an answer. Just as well really, because for an uncomfortable moment Merlin's heart went to his throat when he realised how 'sympathetic to magic' his words could be interpreted.

The warlock swallowed uncomfortably, feeling distinctly nervous. Every time he saw or heard about someone being executed for magic, he couldn't help but imagine himself being the one led to death. Executions were also accompanied by a moment or two of anger directed at Uther, at how blind he was... At how that one man's hate had overshadowed his entire life, and would continue to do so until Arthur became king.

He clenched his fists for a moment, gritting his teeth, before forcing himself to let out a long breath and relax. Gaius would tell him there was no point in getting himself worked up. It would only mean he might do something stupid and get himself caught. That guy who was about to be executed had brought his death on himself by abusing his magic, and he would be a fool to do anything to cause himself to end up joining him in that fate.

And so he continued to follow Fyren down the path behind the stables and then along the side of the manor, while in the distance a grim drumbeat began to sound.

~(-)~

It had startled him at first to be led to the garrison, having expected the main square in front of the manor entrance to where the execution was held. None of the local people were gathering. He'd seen them glancing at the black flag above the garrison walls, but apart from that they went about their business. In Camelot executions were always public, as an example, but here...

Here they were kept behind closed doors...

Arthur stood beside the Lord of Ulwin, on a raised platform at one side of the garrison's main yard. A headsman's block had been placed amid a pile of straw a short distance away, the hooded figure of the executioner already waiting. The bass drumbeat echoed across that space, eerie without the fearful murmurings of a gathering of witnesses like he'd known in the past. No, only four guards marked the corners of the execution area. Apart from them and the executioner, the only people present were himself, Hargren, and the guards patrolling the garrison walls.

Movement caught his eye, four figures emerging from the main building. One was a guardsman, holding firmly to the shoulder of the man beside him, that man having had a bag tied over his head in addition to the ropes binding his arms. On the other side was Sir Tarven, Hargren's son and commander of this garrison, and behind those three walked another figure whom was hooded in the same fashion as the executioner. It seemed like very little security, when considering the man they were leading was a sorcerer.

As if spotting Arthur's frown, Hargren explained in a quiet tone.

"The sorcerer has been gagged beneath his blindfold, in addition to having been lightly drugged, to keep him quiet and prevent a repeat of his actions when he resisted arrest... I make no spectacles of these executions. Here in Ulwin, the sight of the Black Pennant and sound of the drums is all the people need to know that an execution is being carried out... My son will deliver a formal notice to them once the body has been cleared away and buried, informing them that a sorcerer has been dealt with."

Arthur glanced to him.

"No mention of the sorcerer's name?"

"To make his name so openly public, would only be a burden on his family and sow hatred. It is not for them to suffer for his actions, and so I will show due sympathy for their loss by not announcing it. The people of the town will know who was executed today, due to the arrest being witnessed, but the talk will die down quickly this way."

The sorcerer was nearing the block, both Tarven and the hooded man with him coming to a stop while the guard led the criminal the remainder of the way. It was then that the knight turned to his father and spoke out in a clear voice.

"This man stands accused of the practice of magic and enchantments, and has hereby been witnessed using such for the acts of thievery, attempted harm of a guardsman, and the damage of several homes. By the laws of Camelot, he stands in violation of the law against magic."

Arthur heard Hargren take a deep breath, before the man nodded and replied.

"Then in light of the evidence, I pronounce him guilty. The penalty is death."

Tarven nodded once, before turning back to the executioner and raising his hand. The sorcerer was pushed to his knees and his head placed over the block, the axe rising to wait for the knight to signal the final blow be struck... And then at the falling of his hand the axe began to descend.

Arthur was suddenly overcome by a previously unknown urge, turning his head aside and looking away until after he heard the thud that signalled the sorcerer's end. Only then did he look back again, in time to see the hooded man beside Tarven walk forward and throw a canvas cover over the man's remains. Everything had been done low key and with a certain degree of respect, even the moments after the execution as well.

It was a big difference from the macabre displays that executions at Camelot always were.

He turned to face the gate out of the garrison, walking the two strides towards it that it would take for him to be standing behind Lord Hargren.

"If we're done here, perhaps we could discuss the horses some more. I saw a couple of them I wouldn't mind purchasing myself."

Hargren turned to face him, revealing a slightly strained look in his eyes, before he nodded in agreement.

"Of course. We can discuss it while you dine with me for the midday meal."

Arthur forced a polite smile, still troubled by why he felt so shaken by what he'd just witnessed.

"It would be a pleasure."

They left the garrison, Hargren bidding a random servant to lead Arthur back to his chambers so he could prepare for the meal.

There was no sign of Fyren when the prince arrived there, but the clothing for the expected formal meal with the lord was already laid out. Arthur began to change into that clothing, tugging at hems and cuffs to straighten them before eventually moving to the mirror to make sure everything looked right. That was when he saw it, the expression he'd not even realised he was making... A deep and uneasy frown, his lips pressed together in a thin and unhappy line.

He turned away from the mirror as though confronted by the sight of a demon, flinching before starting to pace. Why had that execution bothered him so much? He'd never have trouble watching them before now, he'd seen dozens in the time since his father had insisted he be present at them since the age of fourteen. Why was it that it was only now that he'd not been able to make himself watch when the moment came?

He slumped down onto the edge of the bed, staring at his hands and trying to make sense of it. Was it because of how he'd wondered recently if all magic were truly evil? Was it because he'd started to realise how brutal some of his father's laws could be? Or was it because of the stark contrast between how Hargren had the executions carried out respectfully and without unnecessary suffering or display, while the king always made of point of turning the executions at Camelot into a spectacle of fear? In that quiet garrison yard, with nothing but the drums and the wind, with no one there who might frown on him for not observing until the end... He'd turned his head aside, unable to bring himself to watch that man die.

And for some reason it scared him, because he couldn't figure out why all of a sudden things were different. He was different.

Arthur made himself get to his feet, taking a deep breath and forcing the frown from his face. He was the Prince of Camelot, and he was here to fulfil a duty. Wondering about this would have to wait for another time.

~(-)~

Merlin actually found himself taking a second glance when Fyren led him the last short distance to the home of Hargren's physician, blinking in confusion at the sight of an incongruous looking building that looked like a haphazard combination of a cottage, a stable, and some attempt to make it look like part of the castle it was joined to. It was, quite frankly... odd.

Fyren paused at the outer door, another door visible just across the passage inside, which led off to their right to a side-entrance into the main part of the manor. He jerked a thumb in the first door's direction, grimacing a little.

"Word of warning... Forwin is like a hedgehog. Nice on the inside, prickly on the outside. Let me do the talking. He's one of the few people who knows what I'm really like."

Without another word he walked to the second door and opened it, gesturing for Merlin to follow him through it. Beyond was a set of rooms that could only belong to a physician. To the left, one half of the long room was set up as an infirmary, while to the right looked like a replica of Gaius' chambers back in Camelot... Several tables strewn with tools, books, and odd-looking items, walls covered with shelves of yet more books, and cupboards packed with jars of ingredients for medicine. Beyond that section was a tiny area curtained off, but the glimpse of an end of a bed indicated it was where the man now striding towards them slept.

The middle-aged man frowned at them above his grey-streaked black beard, matching hair cut at odd lengths like it had been done with sheers and no assistance. Added to the frown, the physician resembled a kind of irate ageing goat.

Merlin was already starting to see why Fyren had described him as being like a hedgehog.

Forwin's sharp brown eyes regarded Merlin, flicking upwards to take note of the obvious scrape and bruise on his forehead, before he turned to the red-head beside him.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Have the courtesy to say why you're here, or get out."

Merlin found himself nudged back towards the door, while Fyren hurried over to the physician and turned him so both their backs were to him. He murmured something furtively for a few seconds, before stepping aside and nodding to him.

"It's all right. Forwin won't tell anyone about you, since your visit here isn't 'official'."

He sat himself on a stool near the door, Merlin staring at him until Forwin's barked words made him flinch.

"So you're Prince Arthur's manservant, eh? Which means you're also Gaius' ward." He jerked his head towards his shelves of herbs. "Come on then. I'm sure he's shown you at least the basics of herbs. Find me comfrey root and yarrow from among that lot, and bring them over here."

Merlin watched as the physician set a pot of water over a burner and began to mutter to himself, before tentatively going to the indicated shelves. Luckily both comfrey and yarrow were herbs that Gaius used a lot of, meaning he'd had to collect a lot of them too. Spotting them among the mass of other jars didn't take long.

He took the two jars over to Forwin, standing there a bit hesitant.

"Where do you want them?"

The next moment found both jars snatched out of his hands, before bare seconds later he had a mortar and pestle shoved into his grip, with a small amount of both herbs thrown into the bottom of it.

"Grind those together."

Merlin glanced at Fyren, who was still sat on his stool trying not to laugh, before shaking his head and setting the mortal and pestle on the table in front of him. He ground the two herbs together into a rough paste, wondering to himself if Forwin made all his patients participate in making their own remedies, or if he was just doing this because he was Gaius' ward. He knew it was the latter, but still, it was odd.

The paste done, he edged the mortar towards the physician.

"Done."

Once again Forwin snatched up the item in question, peering into it and nodding in gruff approval.

"Nice and even, and well blended." He scraped the paste into a bowl, before pouring some of the now hot water in with it. He then pointed sharply to a nearby chair. "Sit!"

Merlin immediately did as he was told, watching as the water and paste were stirred together, before Forwin came over to him with the bowl and a cloth. The warlock tried not to wince as the physician used the herbal wash on the scrape, clearing away bits of dirt and scab while trickles of the wash ran down his face, until the abrasion was completely clear. Forwin then grabbed a nearby jar and a small wad of cloth, applying some of the salve from within it before slapping it over the abrasion. A short length of bandage later, to hold that wad in place, and he was done.

Touching a hand to the bandage now across his forehead, Merlin couldn't help but wonder if Forwin had gone a bit overboard with the treatment. It had only been a small scrape.

"Um, thanks."

He found a small pottery jar thrust into his grasp, Forwin having transferred some of the salve into it.

"Apply some of that to the wound every morning and evening for the next week, and keep it covered. Follow my instructions, and you won't even be left with a mark on that pretty little face of yours. But, if you want a scar, then by all means just ignore me." The physician turned to the servant sat near the door. "Go on then, out! Get him sent back where he should be, or I won't be held responsible for what happens if the prince finds out his servant followed him against orders."

Merlin found himself yanked to his feet by Fyren and dragged out the door, feeling all together a bit baffled by all that. Forwin had sounded gruff, acted gruff, but then gone to the trouble of doing more than just the minimum for him. He frowned a little, the two of them heading back towards the main gate.

"Is he always like that?"

Fyren glanced back at him.

"Just about. Only one person regularly gets to see his soft side, and that's my friend Liam; Hargren's other manservant. Forwin gave him lessons on reading and writing when he was twelve, and has had a soft spot for him since. Not that you'd get him to admit it." They began to near the areas where more people walked about, the red-head now letting out a sigh. "Well, time for my usual again. Don't ask me anything else unless we're out of sight of people."

Then, as Merlin watched, Fyren's sly grin dissolved into an expression of blank contentment. The servant grabbing him by the sleeve of his shirt and hauling him towards the gates like an over-eager child. Merlin had to admit that the man's dim-wit act was flawless, and it also had him admit something else.

He was glad he didn't have to go that far, it was bad enough being considered as stupid as people already did. If he'd been doing what Fyren had been doing all his time here, he was sure he'd have gone insane by now. He had to wonder though... Was Lord Hargren involved in something that had him spy around so much inside his own estate? If so, then what?

After considering that for a moment, Merlin shook his head and snorted quietly at the thought. Nah, couldn't be. He would just be keeping tabs on the nobles living here, like any sensible leader should. Which brought back to mind Uther, and the king's selective attitude when it came to trusting people's word... At least Arthur was reasonably open to being convinced, when he wasn't being a prat.

~(-)~

Cutlery clattered against plates, wine sloshed into goblets, and the two men sat adjacent to each other at the head of the long table. They had idled conversation about the horses, about some of the nobles who had recently purchased one of them. They'd discussed the formality of politics, and about how even without the truce accord, he would have had to come visit here for protocol's sake.

"It is one fallacy of many a noble family, that they take the idea of someone showing open favouritism of a close friend to be an insult to them. By all means, court your friends and keep their allegiance, but heavens help you if you do so at the expense of one of them. Your father would rather have simply said yes right away, but at the same time he must also court the favour of those who would quite easily be tempted away from him by a better offer. There are many nobles that have sworn to him, but there are just as many, within Camelot and beyond it, who have not."

Hargren took a sip of his wine, nodding in thanks to his manservant who then proceeded to leave the room. Arthur regarded that young man, the name of the blond-haired servant having already slipped his mind. Hargren had only mentioned it the once, and he'd come face-to-face with that druid woman right after that, so he was inwardly embarrassed to admit he'd forgotten it. If he'd done that with a noble and not a servant, it might have caused the kind of insult that the lord had just been talking about.

Arthur looked to Hargren, where he sat at the head of the table to his left. He seemed far more relaxed now, not tense like he'd been at the execution. In fact he seemed more relaxed than even he'd been since he'd first arrived yesterday, almost like some weight was gone from his shoulders. Maybe it had been the truce negotiation. With the document now on its way, in the space of a few more days the truce would be official and guarding the border would become but a formality. The people of the Ulwin province would know true peace for the first time in twelve years. Yes, that would be reason enough for the ease now in Hargren's manner.

"You never know. Give it a few more years, and maybe even Cenrid will eventually be talked around. I'm not pinning any hopes on it, but you have to admit, fifteen years ago I heard some of the nobles in Camelot saying the same thing about King Bayard."

Hargren paused, setting down his goblet and shaking his head.

"Bayard is a very different man from Cenrid. He is a man who will listen to his people, and learn from them... Cenrid listens to nothing but his own desire for power. He will never make allegiance with Camelot, even this truce is begrudged by him. It is only the pressure of two powerful nations surrounding his kingdom on one side, that has made him relent even this far. Given the opportunity, a moment of weakness on our part, and he will attempt to conquer us. I've already warned your father of such, when I sent the final document for him to sign."

Arthur frowned.

"So what should we do about him then?"

"Him? Nothing." Hargren gave him a solemn regard. "Men like him are easily swayed by the temptations of power, and those who would offer it to them. I am sure there will come a time when he listens to one promise of power too many. When that happens, what he did to King Herwen... will happen to him. When he no longer rules Escetia, hopefully someone far more suitable will replace him. Someone who will listen and learn from their people and those close to them, just as I have done in making Ulwin what it is."

Arthur felt his curiosity rising, something he'd often wondered coming to mind.

"I've often asked myself how you do it, get the people here to admire you so much. The people of Camelot respect my father, but..."

"But when it comes down to it, almost all the commoners are afraid of him to a certain extent. Some more than others. They respect him, applaud him and take pride in his victories, but beyond that he is just their king. A distant figurehead who controls much of their lives, but who doesn't really understand them." Hargren twirled the stem of his goblet between his fingers, as if thinking. "Tell me, why did you not bring your manservant with you? From what I've heard, you've taken him everywhere up until now, on patrols and hunting trips both. Why not this time?" Arthur hesitated, and the lord smiled a little. "Do not fear that I will mock an honest answer."

Arthur tapped his fingers on the table for a few seconds, torn between lying and telling the truth. When he thought about it, the truth made him seem so petty, but then he trusted Hargren to stay true to that statement.

"I left him behind because he has a habit of opening his mouth and saying exactly what he thinks about something or someone, when he should really keep his mouth shut. I was afraid he'd embarrass me in front of you."

Hargren's smile widened a little.

"And does he do it in public, or just in private?"

"Only in private, although he isn't as polite in public as he should be."

"You mean he isn't as subservient as Bern was..." Arthur looked to him, startled, and Hargren leaned back into his chair. "I know Bern, he served me for six months, and he was completely useless for what I needed in a servant... That's why I replaced him with Fyren."

Arthur couldn't help it, his expression speaking of his bafflement at the reasons for that.

"You replaced him with a half-wit."

"I replaced him with a man who I knew would speak his mind to me, and who I trusted to tell me when I about to make a decision that was a mistake."

Arthur's expression of confusion only deepened. That servant had the intelligence of a cabbage, he'd said as much to Merlin back during the tournament.

"But he's..."

"The exact opposite of what you think he is." Hargren sighed, before raising a finger and speaking with a slight wry tone. "This is a secret that few are aware of, something that not even your father knows. I lied when I called Fyren 'debilitated'... He has a mind as sharp as your sword, and a wit to go with it. He pretends to be as he has appeared to you, as he does to all, specifically at my orders."

Arthur was now staring.

"Are you telling me that I've been..."

"Speaking to an intelligent man as though he were a small child. Yes, you have." Hargren chuckled. "Fyren monitors the nobles within Ulwin for me, since they believe him too stupid to notice their misdemeanours. He can oft be quite vocal in his opinion of them when he reports to me, as he was regarding you." Hargren leaned forward again, bracing his arms on the table as he regarded the prince. "All leaders need someone who will question their decisions and their judgements, because it makes them think about them more closely. I have avoided a number of mistakes, both large and small, because I had someone to question my actions and make me think about them again before continuing. That is what Bern could not do for me, or for you."

Now Arthur was really confused. Was Hargren implying what he thought he was implying.

"Are you saying..."

Hargren smiled.

"We don't always get the people we want serving us, but rather there are times when fate gives us the people we need. Your servant sounds like an admirable young man. There are not many with the courage to go head-to-head with someone who could have them arrested with a single word. You could learn a lot from having him around. And I say that to you as a close friend of your father's. He might not agree with me, but then I feel that my province's prosperity speaks for itself. It is a wise noble who can admit they could learn something from a mere commoner, and I have learned much from those under my care."

Arthur went very quiet, still frowning slightly, thinking. He remained that way for almost a full minute before finally answering.

"Thank you for your advice. I'll keep it in mind."

Hargren nodded, picking up his fork in prelude to resuming eating his meal.

"And that's all I can ask. Whether I am right or wrong, you will in time learn for yourself."

Arthur watched as Hargren began to eat, picking his own fork up again to do likewise. He'd been given a lot to think about, including the sinking feeling of realising how stupid he'd been making himself look in front of that servant, Fyren... He would not be repeating that error.

~(-)~

"Arthur will be leaving the morning after next, so you'll want a head start to make sure you get back well before him."

Merlin sighed, he and Fyren stood in the obscured corner of the inn's stable-yard again. It was a pity the man had been forced to act dumb during the time he was in Camelot with Tarven for the tournament, because having just spent the past hour in his company he could tell they could have had a lot of fun. They had a similar sense of humour, and a similar lack of being impressed by Arthur.

He offered his hand to him, smiling with a certain degree of disappointment.

"Well maybe a chance will crop up and Arthur has to come here again, and he'd actually bring me with him. Or you could ask Lord Hargren to let you accompany Tarven if he visits Camelot again."

Fyren chuckled.

"I can't guarantee it, but if I get the chance, I'll see if I can pull some strings. Unfortunately my 'dumb' act means I can't ask for time off to go travelling. Hopefully, some day soon, Hargren will decide he doesn't need me to do it anymore." He accepted the offered hand, shaking it firmly. "Good luck, Merlin, and don't let the prince's ego get too big."

Merlin snorted.

"It better not, or I'll have to get the armourer to resize his helmet." He sighed. "I guess I'll see you around, whenever that is. A pity I couldn't meet Lord Hargren, he sounds like a great man to work for."

Fyren turned to walk away, smiling with irony.

"You never know, maybe one day Arthur will be just like him."

Merlin spluttered at that, watching as the other servant left the yard and disappeared from view. Arthur? Be like Hargren? If he hadn't already been told it was the prat's destiny to do that, he'd have thought of it as a complete joke. He still saw it as a joke, but then destiny had been right so far...

He turned and went back into the inn, heading up to his room. He'd stay for the night, considering he'd already paid for it, but in the morning he would head back to Camelot and pretend to Arthur, when the prince got back, that he'd never left it.

~(-)~

It was the sight of one slightly bored-looking servant, with a bandage round his head, that greeted Arthur upon his return mid-afternoon three days later. He had the confirmation from Cenrid that the truce document had been received, and that the agreement was now in force. Camelot was finally no longer at war on its eastern border, and while it wasn't an alliance, it was still something that would boost both trade and moral. This was a chance for Camelot to prosper even further than before.

Coming to a halt at the foot of the steps to the castle entrance, Arthur dismounted from his horse as the servant came over. Seriously, he was gone for less than a week and Merlin had already managed to get himself hurt.

"So how did that happen? Walk into a door?"

Merlin frowned a little, seeming to consider something before smiling cheerfully.

"Oh, nothing. It happened while I was collecting herbs for Gaius. Nothing serious."

Arthur started to smile, finding himself unable to resist the chance to tease.

"Stepped into another rabbit hole, did we?"

"No I did not! I tripped and fell into the side of a tree!"

Merlin seemed to realise his mistake even as he said it, starting to flush when the prince began to laugh.

"Oh I wish I'd seen that... A pity it didn't knock some sense into you." He passed the reins of his horse to the servant. "Now, I need you to tend to my horse, clean all my gear, get my clothing washed, prepare a bath for me, and bring up my evening meal as well."

Merlin stared at him as he started to walk away, before replying with just a hint of irritated emphasis.

"Yes, Sire..."

Arthur caught the hint of annoyance, but said nothing. Hargren had been right, Merlin did make him question things when in the past he wouldn't have given them a second thought. Was it really a bad thing? Entering the castle and out of Merlin's sight, he shook his head to himself. No, it wasn't a bad thing, because while he didn't want to admit it there had already been a number of times now that Merlin had been right. He'd keep him around, and learn if Hargren had been right. He would not ignore the advice of his father's closest friend.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Whew, long (checks word count) ALMOST 7000 WORDS? ! ...Holy shizzle... O.O