Chapter 3: Seeking an audience with absent Gods

Merlin and Arthur rode quickly in through the palace gates with the physician-in-training swiftly dismounting as soon as they neared the palace steps.

"Send for Gaius," Percival ordered from the doorway to the two guards descending the stairs in front of him. "Sir Gwaine!" He called out over his shoulder, hurrying to help Merlin lower the ragdoll-still Prince from the King's saddle.

"Careful, he's very weak," Merlin advised, doing his best to keep his patient's spine supported while he shifted to let Gwaine take over the task.

"You found him," the aforementioned knight approved. "What in the world happened to him?"

"We're not entirely sure. It looks like some kind of dark magic, but we won't know what it is until Gaius checks him over." Arthur dismounted and allowed a guard to lead their horses away.

"Magic," Percy spat, sounding unusually exasperated. "Prince Mordred's been gone for barely two weeks and someone's already cursed him."

"Again," Gwaine pointed out, allowing the larger man to take most of the Prince's weight on their way up the palace steps. Elyan appeared in the entryway and exchanged an acknowledging nod with Merlin as he passed, before moving to intercept Arthur.

"You have news for me, Sir Elyan," Arthur prompted, forgoing a greeting as they entered the citadel. Elyan held the door for the other knights, then fell into step beside his King.

"All has been quiet here, your Majesty," Sir Elyan reported. "The Prince's new quarters have been prepared in expectation of your return, and two well esteemed palace servants have requested to be considered for an appointment as his manservant."

"I had thought that George would continue in that post."

"He has respectfully declined the position, Sire. Something about feeling that his skills may be of better use in other parts of the castle," Sir Elyan explained. His tone relayed his own suspicions about the man's reasoning. "And Lord Edmund has requested an audience with you upon your return, insisting that you must discuss the Council's concerns in regards to the new Prince and his effect on Camelot's continued stability."

Arthur's face displayed with no uncertainty just how little he thought of the Councilors' concerns although his royal manners did not allow him to mention it outright.

"The Queen is stalling him, but warns that she cannot do so indeterminately," Elyan responded. "If you'll forgive me, Sire. I wonder how much merit there truly is in continuing to humor him. It hardly seems as though we will be forced back to the ways of the Old Religion simply by accepting one Druid-born heir as Prince."

"Unfortunately, that is the hazard I brought upon myself when I accepted the advice of my father's old Council," Arthur accepted. "No matter whether their advice in this matter has been requested or not."

"As you say, Sire." Elyan leveled the King with a pointed look as they rounded the corner, and Arthur allowed him a tired but accepting smile. If only getting the old Lords to relent were that easy. Arthur would be more than happy to retire a few, but as contentious as the climate within the Royal Court was getting after Mordred's revelation, openly challenging the High Council would turn things ugly overnight. The truth was, King or not, Arthur was currently balanced on the proverbial knife's edge where his rule was concerned. If he failed to get his nephew to fall in line, he would be left vulnerable to a competing claim to the crown. Should he lose the Council's backing, Camelot's economy and political allegiances would be crippled in result. However, if he managed to coax Mordred into accepting his place in the line of succession, yet failed to gain the acceptance and loyalty of Camelot's people towards his chosen heir, he would lose them too. And so, it went on and on... not to mention the damage Mordred's sudden, inexplicable demise would cause. Arthur's Kingship was balanced on the blade, alright, and he fancied that he was beginning to feel the first prick.

"Impossible," Gaius muttered to himself as he continued to inspect his enchanted patient. "Impossible..." he turned back to his worktable and retrieved yet another lens with which to scrutinize Mordred's skin. This one was tinted red, not that Merlin understood why that was relevant "It's-"

"Impossible?" Arthur preempted, and exchanged a look with his equally unimpressed manservant. "Yes, Merlin got that far. We were hoping that you would be able to tell us how to fix it."

"I am sorry to say it, but I have not seen an enchantment of this potency before, and I believed that I knew of all of them."

"All the enchantments that a sorcerer could use for this purpose?" Arthur verified, staring thoughtfully down at Mordred's face.

"Yes..." Gaius agreed uncertainly.

"I take it that this mark is of a different origin?" Arthur inquired, keeping watch of both healers' reactions as he rolled up his sleeve to show the tattoo now marking his forearm.

The two knights seated at the table leaned forward to see.

"What's that?" Gwaine remarked. He looked like he wanted to fidget but was trying not to appear unmanly. Behind him, Percival passed a hand over his mouth in an unconscious gesture, as if shushing himself at the sight of it. Merlin narrowed his eyes, but chose not to say anything.

"Is it just me, or is that moving?" Elyan observed, leaning away a bit. His reaction was less tempered by his perceived limits of manliness.

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, keeping his eyes on Gaius' perplexed expression. "I don't suppose you've seen this before either..." the King realized aloud.

"No Sire, but I fear that it is not of this realm." Gaius paused to consider, leaving the King all the opening that he needed to turn on his friend and servant.

"So then, where have you seen it before, Merlin?" Arthur inquired with a begrudging sort of suspicion. It sounded as if he were almost more discomfited by the necessity of suspecting his friend than he was concerned that Merlin might be hiding something. Everyone's attention settled on the awkward manservant.

"Well," Merlin coughed to clear his throat, and buy himself a second or two to think. "I didn't see it so much as-" He made a point to look directly at Arthur as he spoke, resolutely ignoring his mentor.

"Yes? Spit it out. We haven't got all day," the King prompted.

"He described it to me..."

" 'He' did?"

"Prince Mordred."

Arthur glared at him. "In what context?" he asked in a clipped voice.

Merlin's eyes flickered however fleetingly to Gaius and back before he continued, "A couple nights before he was kidnapped, I was passing by his room and heard Mordred crying out in his sleep. When I came in to check on him-" Arthur and Gwaine exchanged looks of fond amusement at Merlin's typical lack of consideration for closed doors. "Oh don't- I knocked first!" Merlin objected. No one looked very convinced. "Where was I? Right. When I tried to speak with him about it, Mordred kept insisting that there had been a woman standing over his bed and that she was trying reach into his mind."

"Sounds like a nightmare. What does that have to do with Arthur's tattoo?" Elyan questioned.

"I thought it was a night terror," Merlin admitted, noting the warning quirk of Gaius' brow. "But he kept insisting that she had really been there. He said that she was one of the Old Gods, described the symbol she wore-that symbol!- and was convinced that she was trying to steal knowledge from his mind."

"You never mentioned a word of it to me!" Gaius objected.

"So that you could do what, give him a stronger sleeping draft?" Merlin countered; the cover for his real reason for secrecy was turning out to be a perfect chance to vent some of the guilt and lingering doubts resurrected by Mordred's confession of the Le Fay's 'affliction'.

"I understand how upsetting it must have been for you to witness that after having seen his Mother suffer as she did in her youth, but that does not give you the right to second guess-let alone intercept my treatments, Young Man," Gaius scolded. "I am still the Royal Physician and Prince Mordred is my patient!"

"You haven't denied that you would have drugged him. He needed someone to listen to him, not to be made to feel insane," Merlin gestured to the enchanted Prince to punctuate his point. "He was right!"

"And only you knew," Arthur put in. Merlin's look of betrayal prompted the King to clasp his friend's shoulder and continue "That isn't a reproach, Merlin. Gaius is right. After seeing what Morgana's affliction did to her, it was understandable that you'd want to shield her son from the same fate. I might have felt the same way, but it is better to know the truth than to run from a possibility."

Merlin held his gaze for a moment, conceding Arthur's point with a nod before admitting, "I don't really know much about the Old Gods. Mordred only told me a few legends, but nothing that could lead to a treatment."

Gaius nodded, looking like he'd expected that to be the case. "Sadly, I must admit that is likely the best case for anyone not a Druid. Any tangible document of their spiritual beliefs and practices were destroyed during the Purge. Such knowledge has been kept strictly within the clans themselves, and are said to be passed on solely through oral tradition."

"There must be someone who can help us with this, surely," Arthur objected. "These creatures, these supposed Gods are clearly dangerous! You can't expect me to believe that they could go unchecked for this long, whether the records were burnt or not. I've seen what one of these things can do, and there is simply no way that no one would think to stop them!"

"How?" Percival asked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room to his quiet presence. He was looking speculatively at Mordred's face. "We can't fight a God by human means, certainly not without..." he was hesitant to mention using magic but they all heard it in his silence nonetheless.

"Whatever this is, it cannot be a God," Arthur stated with finality.

"The Druids think differently, Sire," Gaius reminded him carefully.

"A God does not need to steal," Arthur argued. "Certainly not from one lone innocent boy. No, it's some sort of magical creature, and as a living creature it is bound to have a weakness. We just need to find it."

Merlin jogged into the stables to fetch Mordred's things. Most of the King's belongings had already been retrieved and brought up to his chambers. Merlin's had been sent up next, yet the servants seemed hesitant to handle the Prince's things.

"George?" Merlin greeted, surprised to see the perfect servant working in such a lowly place. "You know that the Prince has returned, don't you?"

"Indeed. I expect that you are here to collect his Highness' satchel?" George prefaced, indicating the bag in question set neatly aside on a nearby shelf. "I regret that I have not yet had the chance to deliver it myself. I am afraid some of the others have allowed superstition to prevent the proper progress of our work."

"I guess that's why you had to come down here. You'd never let that stand," Merlin inferred, walking over to look in the bag.

"Quite. What do you think you are doing?" George scolded, looking appalled at the other servant's behavior.

"I'm not superstitious," Merlin replied unhelpfully, continuing to rifle through the other magic user's meager belongings.

"One does not simply shuffle through the Prince's personal effects!"

"One does if one wants to find something," Merlin contradicted, undaunted. "It's fine. He really won't mind."

"Your pre-" George's next objection was interrupted by a loud groaning whine. A loud crack broke the air that both men could physically feel. George nearly jumped out of his skin in shock, looking ready to run out of the stables despite his ingrained propriety. Emrys straightened then calmly turned to address the other-worldly newcomer.

"Merlin," Walker purred, coming to a halt just a few paces short of the two men. "That is what they call you now, isn't it?"

Merlin hazarded a glance at the other servant, but the man was transfixed in terror by the Fae in human form. "Nemain," the Guardian replied foregoing pretext. He leaned back against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest while he surveyed his challenger. Merlin still wasn't going to allow this to devolve into a fight this close to the palace, but he wasn't about to simply roll over either. "I know who you are now. What do you want with the Pendragons?"

Walker smirked. "Ah. Very astute of you, let's just say I have some strong feelings about what that family has done to my land."

"This isn't your territory." Merlin didn't know how he knew that. He could just feel it in his bones as easily as he'd sensed Nemain's claim to the dark forest they'd recently returned from. "I suggest that you release them both."

Walker laughed gleefully, bending over to rest his hands on his knees as he got ahold of himself. "Oh, that's good. That's very sweet of you to try, but no. I intend to negotiate. You can consider the boy my collateral. If neither Mummy nor Uncle decides to play along, well..."

"We will stop you." Merlin warned.

Walker grinned and offered a mock bow. "I can't wait to see you try it." He then sank into the ground as if it were fluid. George fainted. Merlin watched absently as the man went down like a plank, then looked up to the iron brackets that were subtly hissing against the wooden post. They'd gone red hot in the presence of the Fae's potent magic.

The King and Queen both looked up past the long-winded Councilor's shoulder to see Merlin burst into the Council Chambers. Sir Elyan quietly stepped away from his post by the entrance to close the door behind him.

"Thanks," Merlin muttered earning a nod from his patient friend.

"Well, of all the disrespectful, disgraceful things! You dare barge into a Royal Council meeting, you Peasant!?" Lord Edmund objected. He looked as shocked as a man who'd already witnessed a younger Merlin barging in to disrupt King Uther's royal wedding-to a troll- or the multiple similar occasions, could be without looking dim. Then again, Merlin thought it was either very dim or disrespectful of Uther's old Councilors to insist upon placing themselves to either side of the royal seats rather than to sit facing them, utterly missing the point inherent in Arthur's choice of a round table.

"What is it now, Merlin?" The King asked, sounding simultaneously annoyed and relieved by the interruption. Queen Guinevere skillfully hid her smile before the Councilors, stubbornly lining each side of the roundtable, could notice. Edmund may have noticed from where he stood before them, but if so, he overlooked it.

"Iron!" Merlin blurted out, struggling to catch his breath. Upon reflection, perhaps running the whole way there was not the greatest idea he'd ever had.

"What?" Arthur countered, beginning to grow impatient.

"You wanted us to find Nemain's weakness... Well, a weakness. I found one- a bit. A little bit to be honest, but it's something."

"This is your mental affliction rearing its head again, isn't it?" Arthur mocked, taking out some of his pent-up aggravation on his idiot servant. "Try again, Merlin, and this time I suggest that you attempt to form an entire thought in your head before you start talking."

Merlin scowled, slightly insulted, but he did pause to consider this time before explaining "Iron. It's a rudimentary method, but pure iron has been used before to absorb low level magic. It won't stop the kind of enchantment that we saw evidence of back at the Inn, but it could still help us stop her."

"You're insane! Nobody has bothered with that since before the Great Purge. It is a childish, useless, half-measure, that has no use in battle," Lord Edmund scoffed addressing his response mostly toward the King and Queen as though Merlin's presence was inconsequential. "We need action, not some arcane parlor trick!"

Arthur held up a hand to silence him, looking expectantly to Merlin. "Continue."

Merlin stepped closer, bringing himself parallel with the old Advisor. Then as an afterthought, he rested a hand on the table to better face his rulers "He is right. I've read the old writings on it in the palace records before I came here, and iron was only ever considered to be useful in disrupting simple, rudimentary incantations," he admitted, ignoring the disapproving whispers being exchanged on his right.

"Then why mention it now?" Guinevere questioned, more to make her interest in her friend's premise apparent to the others present than to challenge him.

"The reason why it cannot be used to disrupt anything stronger is because the energy of the magic heats the metal while it's being absorbed. Any entity hiding in plain sight, that wields the kind of power we've been witnessing would turn any pure iron fixture in the area red hot," Merlin explained. "It wouldn't be enough to shift her disguise, or stop her from casting but maybe..."

"It could be used to expose her," Arthur concluded.

"If I may, your Majesty, that is hardly a solution to the greater problem," the Councilor seated directly to Merlin's left dismissed.

"No one is disputing that, Lord Ellis," King Arthur accepted. "It is still better than anything we had to work with before. If any of you have an even more useful idea to share regarding this matter, you are naturally, free to share it."

"I would advise, my King, that our efforts would be put to better use in slaying the creature," Lord Edmund replied, straightening his already pristine robes and puffing out his chest. The man was not covering his bruised ego well with all his huffing and posturing. Although, Merlin wasn't sure if that mattered anymore.

"Yes, we'll be sure to get to that the first moment that we figure out how that's possible." Elyan's muted voice carried from behind Merlin and the standing Advisor.

"Sir Elyan," Sir Leon rebuked from where he stood behind the King's shoulder.

"This is precisely the sort of thing that I wished to forewarn you of," Lord Edmund returned to the case he'd been pleading before the manservant's rude interruption. "There is a delicate balance to the order of things. Even within a Kingdom as great as yours, Sire. Your father understood that, which is why he took such care in arranging the Pendragon line of succession. As his son, you were raised for all your life within Camelot's boundaries to become his true heir. To then divert such an important legacy to the child of your current enemy-" he held up his hands in supplication, in response to Arthur's ferocious gaze, "-a foreigner in all but name, will blur the necessary boundaries that keep us all in our proper place. It would risk forever disrupting the balance of power within this Kingdom."

"My father often used a similar argument to dissuade me from granting a knighthood to those whom he considered too common born to be trusted with such a noble duty, yet, they have proven themselves to be some of the most loyal and honorable men ever to fight in service of Camelot. Why should Prince Mordred's past be any more relevant to his birthright than their common blood was to their merit?"

"A knight does not lead an entire kingdom. One lone knight will never determine the fate of his people."

Merlin could almost physically feel the heartfelt eye-roll that this Councilor's theatrics would have forced from Prince Mordred were he present to witness this.

"Neither will Mordred," Gwen responded diplomatically before her husband's irritation could get the better of him, "We both have the utmost faith in the integrity of our advisors and allies. We trust that you will remain willing to council Arthur's chosen heir as you have done for us."

"We will do so gladly, of course," Lord Edmund immediately confirmed.

"Then I can see little reason for you to fear," the Queen assured him. "Nevertheless, we will be sure to keep your words in mind as we see to Prince Mordred's further education."

Later that evening, Arthur trudged into his chambers and set the spiral-frame ball of pure iron in his hand aside on the table so that he could unbuckle his belt. He'd just set his sword down on the cabinet, silently bemoaning Merlin's albeit necessary absence when realization struck. He went stock still. His eyes retraced their path first, followed by his body's gradual turn back around to face the reddening ball. The metal glowed evermore vibrantly, beginning to coax tiny coils of smoke out of the wood searing beneath its touch. Arthur slowly reached for his sword without shifting his eyes from the warning glow.

"I know you're here. There is no point in hiding," he called in an authoritative voice.

Walker was suddenly beside him, slapping a hand down over Excalibur's blade. He tossed it aside, out of the King's reach like an unwanted toy.

"Whatever did you think you were going to do with that?" the intruder mused, grinning down at Arthur like a cat at a field mouse.

"Nothing that I didn't need to," he answered honestly, already dearly missing his weapon. "You're wearing the face of a dead man."

"I claimed him before you claimed his life. He'll only die once I let him," the Old God revealed.

"You have enchanted my nephew," Arthur further accused. "Why?"

"Are you always this diplomatic?" the Fae inside Walker quipped, with a devilish half smile. Arthur didn't answer, stone-faced, awaiting the creature's next move. "Let's have this talk in some more suitable surroundings." The Fae clamped a hand over the back of Arthur's neck, and with a disconcerting tug they were transported into the physician's quarters. Arthur turned just in time to see Merlin stop short in his bedroom doorway.

"What-" Nemain slammed the door shut in his face with a casual wave. Walker had taken on an otherworldly grace and delicacy that the real man had never displayed in life. "Your nephew." She gestured past Arthur to the motionless Prince laid out on the bed behind him. "You don't call him that only because he your sister's only son."

Arthur snapped his attention to the creature. "What do you want?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I demand that you release him!"

That got only a chuckle that faded from masculine to feminine and back for the King's troubles. "You're in no position to make demands, Pendragon."

Arthur ground his teeth, fighting against the urge to charge. "You know what I want, I want Mordred returned to us unharmed, and I'd like to know why you've enchanted him."

The Fae eyed him with interest, stalking around the King in a half circle. "Your lot were the ones who sought to purge the Old Ways from the lands. You hunted down your nephew's people, and turned against all those who could do what you could not."

"You're talking about magic," Arthur observed. Nemain swooped closer so that they were almost brushing each other's noses.

"I talk of difference," she hissed out, making Walker's eyes deepen to blood red for a lingering moment. Then the Fae drew back to stand upright, precisely within the limit of Arthur's personal space. "Your dear nephew, Mordred is different. How much can you want him now?"

"The boy is a Druid," Arthur cast the challenge aside without a second thought. "That changes nothing. I am not my father, just as Mordred is not his mother. I won't ever condemn him for the circumstances of his birth."

"What of his mother? The High Priestess has claimed him for herself. She was the one who brought him into this world," the Fae tilted Walker's head in an exaggerated thinking pose. "Perhaps I shall return him to her tender care instead."

Arthur bared his teeth, placing himself between the Fae and her victim. Nemain smirked down at his tightly clenching fists.

"Do not mock me. I am still the King and I will not allow you to subject my heir to the Witch's madness! Now tell me what it is that you want so that we can finish this!"

The grin on Walker's face stretched to a daunting extent. "Have a care, Pendragon, your Guardian is not with you now."

Arthur's brows knit together in confusion as he tried to interpret the odd statement. Walker dove forward with inhuman grace to rest a hand on Mordred's forehead. Mordred's eye's opened.

"Mordred! Talk to me. Are you hurt?" Arthur questioned bending over his inscrutable ward.

"Sire..." Mordred's eyes scouted their familiar surroundings, unfocused. "Physician's quarters."

Arthur ventured a tight smile for the teen's sake. "Merlin and I brought you back here after we found you in the woods."

Mordred let out a breathy sigh that almost sounded regretful. "No..."

Arthur's smile was overtaken by worry. "Mordred?" His heir's piercing blue eyes locked into his.

"I'm not here."

Nemain pulled away the moment the last word left her hostage's lips, causing any semblance of life or awareness to vanish from the life-sized doll that was the enchanted teen. Arthur let out a wordless shout and grabbed the front of Walker's tunic slamming him back onto the table behind him.

"Oh, now that is a reaction," the Fae approved, sounding like she was enjoying his passion a bit too much. Merlin blasted his way out of his room, thankful that the King was too caught up in his own rage to notice. This seemed to sober Nemain ever so slightly. "Didn't you want to know what I want?"

"Name it," Arthur ground out, suspended on the verge of indulging a woefully violent impulse.

"You need to rethink your ways in regards to the Old Traditions."

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"You will learn to respect magic."

"And if he doesn't?" Merlin inquired on Arthur's behalf, wishing there was a way to draw on his magic without risk of melting down the iron fixtures nearby.

"Goodbye, Mordred," Nemain confirmed the expected ultimatum. "I'll give you the night to consider your options." And with that, Walker and his otherworldly possessor were gone. Arthur fell forward and caught himself on the tabletop. Then he looked up at Merlin with darkness in his eyes.

"I want that creature dead."

A/N: Thanks foor reading this guys! I know some of you might have hoped for a bit of Morgana here, but she just didn't end up fitting into this one, sorry. Special thanks for this round go to Linorien, NerdGirlAlert, Agana of the Night, SisterOfAnElvenWanabe, and Guest for their kind reviews.