"He's what?"
Arthur froze upon hearing Gwaine speak.
"He's missing, princess. He's gone. And who do you think took him?"
Arthur was still for a moment, rooted to the spot, then snapped around and strode over to his uncle. Agravaine was stirring feebly, still discombobulated from Gwaine's attack. He blinked blearily, then his eyes focused enough to see his nephew standing over him.
"Ah, Arthur. I'm glad you were nearby. Thank you for restraining - "
Without a word, Arthur bent over and abruptly jerked Agravaine upright. His fists twisted in the material of his uncle's cloak as he said in an even voice, "Where is he, uncle?"
Agravaine blinked again, a frown appearing on his face. "I - I'm sorry?"
"You will be." Arthur's voice remained perfectly calm. "Where is he, uncle?"
"What are you talking about, Arthur?"
Arthur could hear the hesitancy in Agravaine's words, the slight, nearly undetectable edge of fear creeping into his voice.
You mean you'll kill me.
Yes.
"I am ordering you," Arthur replied in the exact same tone as before, "as your king and ruler, to Tell. Me. Where. Merlin. Is."
Agravaine's eyes widened, and he stumbled, nearly falling over. Only Arthur's grip on him prevented him from collapsing. "I - really don't - "
"Now."
Agravaine blanched, the sudden white pallor of his face making the blood stand out even more sharply. Arthur saw nothing of the uncle he had trusted just a few hours before. The man before him was a traitor, misusing the trust his nephew had given him, and had hurt Merlin. Arthur thrust every emotion he felt into his demand; the sharp panic cutting into him for Merlin's safety, the deep, gaping wound of betrayal, the raging fury that had been slowly growing inside, burning him deeper than the scar on Merlin's chest, the heavy desperation threatening to drown him.
Even Guinevere took a step back at the word, icily cold and harsh with the tightly suppressed emotions.
Agravaine could only make a terrified squeak.
Then he passed out from fear.
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Bedivere was lost.
He had never wandered around the castle before. Generally, he got the impression that grown-ups didn't want dirty little boys wandering around the castle. So he didn't know where he was, and didn't know where the Knight was either.
It struck him as funny. The Knight was looking for the sick man, and Bedivere was looking for the Knight, and none of them could find each other. Until he remembered the that he was the only way the sick man would be able to not die. Then it wasn't funny anymore.
"Where is the Knight?" he asked a man passing by.
The man glanced down at him in amusement. "I'm a knight."
"Not you. I don't know if he's a real knight but I need to tell him where the sick man is because I don't think the woodsman wants to help."
The other Knight raised his eyebrows, muttered something with a slight smile under his breath, and walked away.
Bedivere looked after him in confusion. "I'm not a demon-child, I promise!" he called after him, but the Knight started to bend over and laugh uproariously. Bedivere shrugged in frustration. What made grown-ups ignore him, even when he specifically told them he wasn't being a liar?
Sighing, he started off in the maze of corridors.
How could he find the Knight? It wasn't like he could search the whole castle. He was only five, and his legs were already growing tired. If he could just find someone who would listen to him, and knew where the Knight was -
Oh!
Bedivere stopped, eyes wide. There was someone who would listen, because he was supposed to take care of his people! He could go to the prince! Surely the prince would listen to him, and he would know where the Knight was too!
Pleased with his new plan, Bedivere set off.
Then he stopped.
Where was the prince?
Well, Bedivere told himself, the prince would be easier to find than the Knight. He didn't even know the Knight's name, whereas everyone knew the prince. He frowned.
How would he get someone to tell him where the prince was? Most likely, the grown-ups would ignore him like always, and they would think that a little boy couldn't possibly know something important enough to tell the prince. They would shoo him away, and he wouldn't find the prince, and the prince wouldn't find the Knight, and the Knight wouldn't find the sick man, and the sick man would stay with the woodsman and he would die.
An idea struck Bedivere.
He sprinted down the corridors, and stopped in front of the first guard he saw. "Sir?" he asked.
The guard squinted down at him. "What?"
"I have to clean the candles in the corridor outside the prince's room, but I don't know where it is. Where is it?"
The guard huffed. "Up two floors that staircase, left turn then two rights."
Bedivere grinned. "Thank you!"
He sprinted up the stairs, pushing aside the ache building in his legs. In little time he had reached the large doors leading into the prince's room. They were unguarded, which Bedivere took to mean the prince wasn't there. He expected it, but it was still disappointing.
He reached up and grasped the handle, throwing all his weight against the heavy door. It creaked open, making Bedivere lose his balance and tumble facefirst onto the floor of the room.
Annoyed, he picked himself up. Sometimes he really hated being small.
The room was big. Really big. Bedivere turned around in circles, gaping at the size.
"This isn't a bedroom!" he said indignantly to nobody in particular. "It's a kitchen but with a bed in it! Only kitchens can be this big."
Bedivere wondered why the prince wanted to sleep in a kitchen that had been turned into a bedroom. He felt like he could get lost in here. What if he couldn't find what he needed?
He spotted the desk to one side of the room and went over to it. Rummaging around, he grabbed what his plan needed - the most official-looking scroll there, with a ribbon around it and a blob of wax sealing it closed.
Smiling in triumph, Bedivere went out into the hallway and had just tugged the door closed when two guards rounded the corner. "Oi!" shouted one. "What are you doing?"
Bedivere looked in surprise at him. "What are you doing?"
"We're the next shift of guards. Now tell us why you're hanging around Prince Arthur's chambers."
Bedivere was nearly struck speechless. Not only did the prince live in a kitchen, but his room was guarded even when he wasn't there?
He had a lot to learn about castle life, it would seem.
Thankfully, Bedivere remembered his plan just in time. He straightened up as stiff as his back would go, and put his feet together the way he had seen the noblemen stand. He held out the stolen scroll in what he hoped was an official-looking manner.
"I have a missive from Lord Baraclay, to be delivered directly to Prince Arthur." Bedivere tried to pronounce the words right. He'd heard the pages practicing their delivering before, though he was wishing now he'd paid closer attention.
The two guards swapped incredulous glances. The second one, the one that hadn't spoken yet, said, "Really? Well, then, you'd better go run and deliver your little missive. What does Lord Baraclay want, hmm? He's already donated a good deer, and gone. Who are you? His bastard grandson, then?"
"No." Bedivere didn't know what bastard meant, but the way the guard said it made him think it was nothing good. "I am Lord Baraclay's page, and I must ask where the prince is. The seal is - real."
He'd been about to say genuine when he realized he didn't know how to pronounce it. Bedivere held out the scroll further for the guards to see and held his breath. If they didn't believe him, if they somehow knew he had stolen it...
The second guard laughed, but the first guard looked at the seal, and blinked. He elbowed his companion in the ribs and shot him a look.
He turned to Bedivere and said, "I saw the prince heading for the west corridors a while ago. Someone down there could probably tell you."
Bedivere couldn't contain his grin. "Thank you!"
He took off at top speed, leaving the two guard bewildered.
The hallways were still twisty and confusing, but as soon as he showed the scroll he was given all the guidance people could provide. Within a few minutes he found himself in a corridor with heavy, fancy doors like the ones on the prince's room.
Bedivere came up close to the door that was partway open, and listened carefully.
"We could take him to Gaius."
"And he'll ask us why Gwaine attacked him in the first place. Do you want to tell him Merlin is missing?"
"Does anyone else have a better idea?"
"I suggest I beat him awake."
Bedivere started with surprise, and knocked his head against the wood. Overbalancing, he fell against the door and pushed it open, sprawling onto the floor the second time that day. He made an oof sound as he hit the stone.
Twisting around, he could see the grown-ups in the room had fallen silent and were staring, startled, straight at him.
Bedivere's eyes focused on the Knight. "Oh! I found you!"