Episode 6: Nature vs. Nurture
"For those of us climbing to the top of the food chain, there can be no mercy. There is but one rule: hunt or be hunted."
-Frank Underwood (House of Cards)
Chapter One: A Nightmare is Hardly a Map
Mordred looked up from the pedantic exchange going on across the table between Lord Geoffrey and Lord Ellis to see Sir Wallace reporting animatedly to the First Knight. The two warriors were speaking too quietly for their words to carry, but it was obviously something more engaging than an anomaly in the quantity of imported grain. Anything would be a welcome interruption at this point, if the Prince were being honest with himself.
"Sire?" Lord Geoffrey gently cautioned, noticing his pupil's focus straying from the council meeting. A couple of the older, more irritable Lords were shifting judgmentally in response to the Druid's distraction. Mordred drew in a deep breath and gestured to Lord Ellis to resume speaking.
"According to our updated tally, there are at least two crates' worth of purchased wheat that somehow failed to arrive in the palace stores. The merchandise was weighed and confirmed present and intact at the outer gate, witnessed by three members of the Guard, yet now it has disappeared!"
Mordred looked boredly up at the over-excited councilor, then to his more trustworthy adviser and teacher.
"We presently have enough supplies to continue to provide sustenance for all those dependent on the palace stores. However, we could fall slightly short of a comfortable output by the end of the next month," Geoffrey dutifully clarified, as Sir Leon quietly made his way over to the royal seat to whisper into the young regent's ear. Mordred inclined his head subtly in thanks for the more direct characterization of the issue.
One of the elder Lords objected, "It would seem that someone has seen fit to raid the palace imports for their own profit. Such an insult cannot be allowed to pass unpunished!" Mordred didn't bother to identify the speaker, more interested in the news of another raid on a Druid settlement on the edge of town.
"Casualties?" he quietly interrogated.
"A young child dead - crushed by their own horse when they attempted to flee toward the guard's post. His father is unconscious but alive. Gaius is treating him." Leon informed him. "There are three others who lived with them. They're being brought in by the incoming patrol."
Mordred nodded. "Have quarters arranged for their stay. I will to speak with them once they are settled. Afterward I intend to visit the site of the attack for myself."
"As your protector in the King's absence, I must advise against leaving the citadel. I cannot assure your security in the current climate."
"Your reservations have been heard and noted, Sir Leon." Mordred responded, unmoved. "Prepare for our departure."
"Yes, Sire."
Lord Wallace cleared his throat loudly. Mordred returned his attention to the meeting once more, taking note that while it had been Lord Wallace who had made the dissenting sound, he actually seemed more amused than anything. Although, many of his fellows were obviously disapproving of the continued interruptions. Lord Geoffrey just shook his head, long-sufferingly, and moved on to the next mundane order of business.
"If you will forgive my presumption, your Highness, is there somewhere else that you feel your presence would be of better use?" Lord Wallace inquired, leaning forward on his elbows to face the younger man.
Mordred smiled slightly at the spark of mischief in the elderly adviser's eyes, but shook his head.
"Show some decorum, Wallace. He still so happens to be our Regent." Lord Ellis disapproved. Mordred raised a hand to quell the unnecessary confrontation.
"He's not too tender, this one. Are you, Sire?" Wallace assessed. Mordred flashed him a cautionary look while allowing himself to be caught stifling a smile. Once his usual inscrutable countenance was back in place, the newest debate continued as intended, only now a hint of the tension in the room had finally ebbed away. Lord Wallace was certainly an interesting personality, unusual for this lot. Mordred decided he would have to keep an eye on that one.
Arthur sat with his back against a tree, staring into space as he took the last watch. Merlin had wandered off to fetch some berries for breakfast and now there was nothing left for the King to do but sit and worry over his Queen's fate while he watched over his sleeping knights. Elyan lurched awake with a shout, disturbing the two men sleeping on either side of him. Arthur sat up straighter.
"Are you all right?"
Elyan shook himself, casting the remaining fog of sleep from his mind. "Yes, sorry. I- I was just having a nightmare."
"Me too," Percival muttered from his right, rubbing at his eyes.
"There was this great, dark tower reaching up into the clouds... and hundreds of dead men were scattered in its shadow…" Elyan recalled.
Percival perked up, staring at his brother-in-arms with a perplexed look as he replied, "There was nothing else under the tower, only barren land surrounding the structure for at least a mile, as though life itself could not abide its presence."
Elyan's eyes widened and he nodded, adding, "But as we drew nearer we could hear the cries of the Witch's wolves."
Arthur frowned suspiciously, "You two had the same dream."
"They were both afflicted by Morgana's poison," Merlin theorized as he arrived at the King's side, dropping the full waterskins onto the ground for the others to claim at their leisure. "That could be the reason she chose to use bewitched serpents in the first place."
"Well, if anyone's wondering, I didn't have it," Gwaine offered, "I was having a wonderful dream about a wheel of cheese. I very much liked that dream, and if you don't mind I'm going to see if I can get back to it." With that, he punched his pillow a couple of times and flopped back down to sleep. The other two knights observed this blankly, then looked to the King and his manservant.
"So, it's a trap then," Sir Percival summarized Merlin's previous thought.
"Morgana obviously took Gwen for a reason. There's no point in luring Arthur out to follow after her if he has no trail to follow."
"A dark tower: how do we figure out where it is?" Elyan wondered. "A nightmare is hardly a map."
"I already know where it is," Arthur said darkly. "It's from an old story our father used to tell when we were children. The place from which no knight has ever returned alive. We sought out the map from the old records and were confined to quarters for a week."
"Why? What's so special about it?"
"According to legend, the last great Druid shamanic leader, Mabuz, lived there. He was said to have unmatched powers of the mind. It was said that when the witchfinders came to set him aflame, his cries were like a venomous tide that dragged all his captors into the underworld along with him. His magic stained the very land around his last domain," Arthur recounted. "Only those who carry his blood, or his magic in their veins are said to be safe from his curse."
"But that's only a story, isn't it?" Percy questioned hopefully. "I mean, a mortal man wielding that sort of power… There's no such thing."
Merlin swallowed, considering that he could think of someone close to them all who was capable of at least the first part of Mabuz's supposed feat of magical vengeance. It seemed obvious to him that what Arthur was describing was the death throes of a potent Clairvoyant.
Arthur looked up at him. "Have you ever heard of anything similar?"
"The first bit, yes, but as far as anyone knows, the Clairvoyants were all wiped out during the Purge. Although, from what I heard, they tended to be non-violent."
"Father was lying?" Arthur tested, not sounding the least bit skeptical.
"I don't know, but either way Morgana might believe it. She could have set plenty of deadly traps for you, herself, curse or no curse."
"You're still scared, then."
"You should be as well."
"Ah, back to the usual. That settles it," Arthur mocked, then turned serious. "I'm going to the tower to rescue Guinevere, but I won't order any of you to follow. We know that my sister has set a trap, likely in hopes of killing any who enter into it. There is no way of knowing what we're up against until we're already in the thick of it, except that it'll likely be lethal. So, I suggest that those of you who have doubts about this quest take this opportunity to turn back. You have my word as your King that if you do so now, you will face no consequences for it."
Arthur waited. No one moved.
"Sir Gwaine?"
"I'm awake," Gwaine clarified. "Are we going now or can I rest first?"
"Lazy sod," Percy remarked fondly, shaking his head.
"Merlin still needs to pack up before we go anywhere," Arthur explained, scrutinizing the less sleepy knights. The aforementioned manservant let out a small sigh, continuing his preparations to make breakfast.
"She's my sister." Elyan pointed out to his brother in law. 'Of' course I'm going."
"I'm with you, Sire," Percy stated. There was a silent pause. Merlin glanced up from gathering breakfast-making necessities to see them all watching him.
"Oh. You were asking me?" he noted, pointing at his own chest.
"Yes, Merlin," Arthur confirmed as if he were being dim. "You aren't a fighter. You can turn back. There's no shame in it."
"Oh no, I'm fine. Besides, I promised Mordred I'd make sure you didn't die."
"He what?" Arthur exclaimed, indignant.
"Can't do that if I don't stick around."
"How does he think- What are you going to do? Nag the Priestess not to kill me!?"
"Don't know. I'll think of something," Merlin responded lightly, as if Arthur's outburst were a real concern. "Don't worry."
Mordred leaned against the inner edge of Merlin's doorway, scrutinizing the dark, warping haze that only he could see spreading up from the back of his hand, while the aged Court Physician bent over a barely noticeable lump under the covers of Merlin's donated bed.
"How is she?" he inquired, causing the healer to jump in response to his unexpected company. Gaius straightened, giving the young man a severe look before treading closer to him. Even without using his clairvoyance, it had become inescapably apparent to Mordred that the old healer didn't approve of him. It was a problem for which he had yet to determine a solution, and he had begun to become less and less concerned with it. Perhaps, it was merely the numbness spreading inward.
"Derryth has recovered enough strength to weather a brief audience, Sire, but I must advise that you keep your questions brief," Gaius urged quietly as he joined the Prince in the doorway. "She has been through quite an ordeal."
Mordred nodded once. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind," he accepted, and the old man left them in silence.
Derryth had been awakened by the sound of their hushed voices, and Mordred leaned against the doorway to observe her taking in her surroundings. Merlin's room was a world of warm, comforting earth-tones: ash brown in the wood of his sparse, unfinished furniture; rich cream coated the walls; brick red and pale tan fabric adorned the bed, while rosy, orange-red sunlight streamed in from the single window... Derryth's loam-dark eyes caught on the stark black and white of the Druid Prince, and lingered on his uncanny blue irises.
"Good evening, Derryth," he greeted in a soft, smooth tone. It was not quite soothing, but not discomfiting in any way.
"My Prince, I am honored that you would find me worth your time," Derryth responded honestly, struggling into an upright seat to lean against the thin pillow.
Mordred crossed over to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her, leaning with one hand splayed over the red of the blankets to match the woman's eye-level.
"Are you feeling well enough to discuss your tormentors with me?" He inquired in the same not-quite-soothing tone.
"I will do what I must, Your Highness," Derryth agreed, fiddling anxiously with the edge of the sheets bunched in her lap.
"No further harm will come to you here," Mordred's mesmeric voice continued. "Any details that you can share will help in our resolution. Anything at all." The old woman looked directly into his eyes and became transfixed. The Clairvoyant slipped into her mind, flitting rapidly through her memory of the past five days, taking note of the relevant faces, names, crimes, and threats of more. Mordred blinked and the connection released. His subject was left with the vague impression of a gentle, yet effective questioning which had left her tired again. Mordred hesitated for an instant, keeping his eyes shut as if savoring, before he stood, straightening his slate grey jacket. He now knew all the details of the other Druid's persecution as if he had experienced it, himself.
"Thank you, Derryth, you have been most helpful," Mordred turned, regarding her with an earnest expression. "You have my word that your hardship was not in vain. I will ensure that justice is done."
(Mordred steps down from Merlin's room, shutting the door behind him. "Empathy is about seeing through the eyes of another, feeling the pain of another, listening when one might speak, and valuing another's needs as one's own. Who wouldn't want a leader who truly empathizes with his people?" The corner of Mordred's lips quirk upright in an sardonic smirk.)
Arthur watched Merlin all but tiptoe through the dense forest ahead in an odd, rigid dance in Percival's wake. The servant's back had been set in a stiff line, his muscles taut like a bowstring ever since they had entered the forest, three and a half hours ago. The King had thought at first that it was merely his usual anxiety about a possibly lethal quest ahead of them, but as the trek stretched on and the man only became more jumpy and uncharacteristically reserved, Arthur ran out of ways to justify his behavior. Something was wrong with Merlin; he had even started to look paler, not in a sickly way but... His eyes had taken on a subtly tawny sheen that only accentuated his already expressive features. It almost reminded Arthur of... A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitched in response to his epiphany. He held up a hand.
"That's it. Halt!" he called for the benefit of the two men in front of him. Arthur stepped forward, grabbing the Dragonlord's shoulder and turning the slighter man around to face him. He resolutely ignored the oversensitive flinch prompted by their unexpected contact. "What is it, Merlin?"
Merlin stared back at him wide eyed. "Er... What's what?"
"Merlin."
"You're the one who told us to stop, Arthur. Not me," Merlin tried, then jumped when a few leaves were made to rustle by the largest knight sitting down on a log beside them.
"See, you're jumpy even for you. You look like you're about to bolt at any second!" Arthur pursued, then relented somewhat when he noticed the fear in his friend's eyes only mounting in response. He added more quietly, "Merlin, you can trust me. Whatever it is, especially if it's something that only someone like you can see?" Merlin relaxed ever so slightly.
"I'm not sure how to explain it... This place, it's a forest but it's not," Merlin floundered with a frustrated expression pinching his brow.
"What?" Arthur asked, not finding his attempt at all enlightening.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Sir Gwaine asked, stepping up to stand behind the King's shoulder. Merlin began to shrink away a little, still anxious about how the others would react to any knowledge of his unique origin.
"It's magic of some kind, I suppose. You're saying some of this is bespelled?" Arthur guessed. Merlin shook his head.
"It isn't..." he ran a hand through his hair and gestured to the tree that Percival was currently using as a backrest. "You look at that and you see a tree, right? Draped in ivy? That's the remains of another tree that has fallen that Percy's sitting on?"
"We all see it. It's an overgrown forest, Mate," Gwaine assured him.
"What do you see?" Arthur prompted, feeling the hairs begin to rise on the back of his neck. Merlin forced out a tense burst of nervous laughter with one hand still buried in his raven hair. The other arm was wrapped around his middle.
"Oh, I see that. I'm mostly trying to see that, but part of me- No! Forget it," Merlin corrected himself.
"Your father's lineage. If there is something here that only a Dragonlord can see, it is not a crime for you to warn us," Arthur said, redirecting his friend's focus from his trance-like stare at Percival's perch, back to him.
"Sorry, what did just you call him?" Gwaine questioned, looking offended by being kept out of the loop. Elyan's eyebrows raised in surprise but he didn't comment.
"Look at me," Arthur instructed. Merlin obeyed, still looking profoundly distracted.
"Everything is the same. I really don't want to look," Merlin breathed out like a child afraid to peek at the monster under his bed. "You don't want to know."
"If there is something dangerous nearby I need to hear about it."
"Everything is the same," Merlin bit out again.
"What does that mean?"
"The smell, the life in it, I can feel it all around us," Merlin bit out, his voice beginning to sound subtly reminiscent of a reptilian hiss. "It's all the same thing, the same lifeforce and I can feel it watching."
There was a thick silence as the knights all absorbed the terrifying news. Percival leapt up from his seat on the log, eyeing the old growth behind it distrustfully. There was a strange rustling, cracking sound from behind them. Elyan and Gwaine watched two trees twisting and hunching closer to mess their long, knobbly limbs together. The plant life that they had been cutting through was growing back tougher and denser than it had been when they entered.
"I told you that you didn't want to know," Merlin reminded his shocked King, sounding utterly miserable.
A/N: Thanks for reading this, guys. I know it's been a while. Special thanks to TeapotsAndKittens and SisterOfAnElvenWanabe for their kind encouragements.