4. Friendship's heavy burden
Somehow Arthur just knew where to find a certain moody warlock. Leaving the castle unseen was much more difficult. To be more precise: It was impossible.
In falling dusk, plain clothes, Excalibur hidden in the most mundane sheath possible and a hood on his head – for all the good the disguise did him, the King of Camelot could have tried to sneak away in broad sunlight shining on his full regal splendour.
"His Majesty's horse" one guard thundered at the other the second Arthur reached his stables and the ensuing commotion startled the embarrassed royal almost as much as the terrified stable boys. Faster than Pendragon could blink, the guards on duty formed an escort, willing to slay any dragon their King would point out to them.
Murmuring something about a test of their alertness and being very satisfied, Arthur managed an impressive strategic retreat, which made a relieved Sir Leon, hidden in the guard house, heave a heartfelt sigh. Gods, he hated stalking Arthur, iot was so very humiliating.
"Imagine that" Gwaine whispered into the other knight's ear. "His royal prattishness sneaking out alone while the whole Cornish and Orkney armies are still camping outside the castle!"
"Yes, and he will try again later if this equally idiotic warlock doesn't show up soon" Leon snapped. "I can only do so much and both our Queens have made it abundantly clear what they expect of me!" To Leon, differentiating between Arthur's sister and his wife was a waste of time and official titles be damned. What difference would it make which woman ripped his head off if he failed in his duty?
"Doesn't it boast your self-esteem that the Ladies have made you head gaoler of the King?" As usual, Gwaine's sarcasm was as merciful as the moonlight was warm.
This time, however, Leon was not to be baited. "Shut up, Gwaine. You have come to like him, too. Why else would you have stayed?"
It was a singular event, that Leon could render Gwaine speechless. Robbed of his sharpest weapons – his tongue and his caustic wit – Gwaine made haste to get away.
Leon was the very last person he wished to discuss his tangled emotions with. Camelot had become Gwaine's home, and, as it was impossible to have Merlin for a friend without adopting the present King of Camelot first, the knight had grudgingly come to admit that he felt for Arthur what he'd feel for a brother. A younger, somewhat idiotic brother who liked stalking around like a preposterous peacock far too much, but, nevertheless, a brother.
While this explained much of how he felt in and for Camelot, it did nothing to explain why he said "yes Sire" so frequently these days, without so much as feeling foolish. Gwaine wasn't used to being voluntarily respectful and it made him feel…. vulnerable.
No, not vulnerable.
Of course not.
Ridiculous thought!
More like….confused. Yes. That was the word. Confused. Confused was good, he could live with confused. Confused he had been before. Well, all right, that had been mostly hangovers, but still. Confused was so much better than vulnerable.
Vulnerable insinuated that Gwaine feared the pain that would come should he lose what he had got. This place. These people. Even the ridiculous Round Table Outfit.
In fact, that was exactly what he had feared lately. That he would lose it all if Arthur failed. And, as events had unfolded two days ago in the arena, the idea of staying on as a knight pretending loyalty to Camelot's new masters because they had the young, presumptuous royal for a hostage had been surprisingly annoying. But as Merlin would never have left his friend, what else could have been done?
Gwaine had found that he didn't like these new feelings of his, not at all. If that was how one felt when one belonged, when one had allowed oneself to become attached, he could well live without.
Could he?
Would he?
Free as a bird and as solitary as a rock in a sand desert?
Gwaine had come that far in his musings – which means, he had made it back to the very start – when he noticed a soldier's mare trotting unhurriedly through the outer gate. Its rider wore an old cloak over hunched shoulders. Fleetingly the knight wondered what the worn out soldier should want outside this time of day but then he forgot all about it.
At least until, somewhat later, a chalk-white Leon roused him from his sleep with the message that Arthur was nowhere to be found.
Actually, for a while Arthur had had the same problem with his warlock-friend. He had found the wizard in a remote spot by the lakeside in the end, just as he had thought he would. Pendragon did not know where or from whom he had first heard about the lake being special for Merlin. But the lake wasn't especially small and when he finally saw the lanky form in the dim moonlight, Arthur was relieved, albeit not surprised. Nor astonished when the warlock barely turned as his King dismounted.
"I could well take offence, you know" Arthur said lightly. "Everyone compliments me on a fine castle, but you prefer the damp grass in a chilly forest."
"You shouldn't be here" Merlin growled softly after a while. "It's too dangerous."
"It's much safer than the great hall right now. Every smile, every word is a blow in the fight."
"I thought we are at peace now."
"Which means that the real fight has only just begun."
The warlock looked up. "What fight?" he asked reluctantly, not really willing to get involved. Not again.
Unceremoniously Arthur dropped down by his side. "They have finally agreed to acknowledge Morgana and me in a public ovation, a week from now."
"Congratulations. You'll need a new cloak and somebody should polish your armour. That's all."
"I wish it were. The ceremony is a double edged sword, Merlin. They acknowledge that I am – we are – their liege. Which of course means that they have to be our liegemen. Which in turn implies that we have to most graciously bestow fiefdoms on them. Geoffrey will have a great day; all these documents and seals. Our beloved Barons bent their knee to us and we give them another title and land in exchange. The ceremony makes both acts binding."
"You mean you have to pay them for allowing you to rule?" Merlin said incredulously.
"Welcome in the real world. Before they let us rule the land, each will bite off a good big piece for himself and for his clan. In turn, their soldiers will come to our aid – at least in theory; parts of their income will go to the Crown – also theoretically; and of course we'll have their most valued advice and superior wisdom in the Council. There's nothing theoretical about the last bit." Arthur chuckled a bit at his own irony. "Lawyers call it the feudal system. Monarchs rule because the aristocracy can't be at peace with each other without them, but without the aristocracy a monarch cannot rule at all."
"Which means?"
"That Morgana and I will draw up a new map, a map of Camelot, and with that we will cut the realm in pieces in order to keep it whole. Gods help us if we give the wrong piece to the wrong man. This day next week it must be ready."
"What business is it of mine? I'm no nobleman, I've got no title."
"Instead you have good common sense and decency."
When his friend looked at him with huge, round eyes, Arthur kept his face straight and serious with a will. "I need you there, Merlin. And not only I, Algernon and his Druids need you too. Hell, magic itself needs you there."
Merlin didn't hear a word. He had more important things on his mind. "So I'm not just an idiot to you after all?"
Arthur hardly trusted his ears. After all these years at Court, how could this walking enigma still be that innocent? Small wonder some simple minds mistook it for stupidity. "You're not more of an idiot than I am a prat."
Merlin snorted, unwillingly yet unable to hide his laughter. "That's not much of a compliment." But then he rose abruptly and shook his head. "I'm out of my depths with such things" he said. "That's your domain. You are the politician here. And besides, I….." he broke off and shrugged awkwardly.
"And besides you're ashamed about the methods you used to keep me on the throne."
Merlin seemed to become smaller under his friend's stern look. "Morgana has told you then?"
"No. Gaius told me that your magic was behind the stone's wondrous appearance in Marke's chapel or whatever this mobile temple of his is called. You also were responsible for the inscription; this prophecy Marke thought had come from his God." Arthur huffed softly. "The grammar should've been a dead give-away. 'He who has me got will be the King of Camelot.' Really, Merlin, even for you. Heavens above."
"I was in a hurry." The warlock scrutinized Arthur's face from behind his lowered lashes. "Are you mad at me?"
"Why should I be? Because my divine chosenness is based on a childish prank? Because I've bought my life and my throne with a cheap trick of magic? That is, correct me from wrong, the reason why you did not inform me of your plan in advance."
Merlin felt his cheeks grow hot. "You are the rightful King of Camelot" he said heatedly. "There's nothing silly in that. And Kilgharrah has forged Excalibur especially for you."
"And you thought it would heighten the dramatic effect if you used a stone for a gift-wrapper? By the way, who on earth is Kilgharrah? One of your sorcerer friends I've still to meet?"
Merlin made a hasty mental note to speak with Gaius about what and what not the healer had told his Prince in Merlin's absence. "Kilgharrah is a magical creature" he replied hastily. "You've met him once but you did not recognize him for what he is. As for 'cheap tricks', I've embedded the sword in the stone long before you fell out with your father and I made sure that only you could free it. The blade has magic. Nobody but you can be entrusted with it."
Against his will, Arthur was touched by the fierce loyalty and trust that spoke with these words. "You could've told me" he said hoarsely, realizing only now that this was the main problem. If they did not trust him, how could he ever trust them not to make their own plans behind his back?
"I needed a way to make your enemies see how very special you are" Merlin said exasperatedly. "That's what the inscription was for. But I knew you wouldn't like it, so I didn't tell you."
"You knew I wouldn't like it, so, in order to do it anyway, you kept me in the dark?"
The wizard felt he was loosing ground in this at a rapid speed. "You can fence with words as well as with a sword" he snapped defiantly. "The way you say it, I'm always in the wrong."
"That's another interesting issue. I cannot fence with a sword very well, not any more. And yet I slit Leodegrance almost in halves as if nothing had happened."
"As I said, Excalibur is a part of you. You alone can pick it up; before anybody else has it, it must be cast away. Like me, it will always protect you."
"And you and the others think that this is acceptable. A fake King on a throne stolen by magic, with an also magical sword to hide from the world that he's an invalid?"
"That's exactly why I didn't tell you" Merlin virtually roared. "That's why I never wanted to tell you anything. Your ego, your pride, your honour, your duty, your sense of right or wrong – did it ever occur to you that the world does not revolve around Arthur Pendragon alone?"
"As of late I think that you've forced my world and life into a new orbit. It's now centred by what you think is right."
It took the wind out of Merlin's sail with a vengeance.
Because in some twisted, unforgivable way, it was perfectly true.
The warlock had come to assume that he knew best what was good for Camelot and he had become accustomed to not asking his master's leave in anything. He had always thought that, once Arthur knew about his magic, this would automatically change. But it hadn't. It couldn't, because somewhere on the way, some unknown moment in time during all these years of friendship and adventure he had, unwittingly, ceased taking Arthur seriously.
Realization was nauseating. His friend had accepted his magic, all these years of lying and cheating, he'd even come to live with the fact that others had known what he had not even guessed for such a long time. But this – this he would not forgive.
There could be no friendship where there was no mutual respect; fondness alone was not enough. One could be fond of a dog or even a small child and it would be sufficient, but for a friend, an equal, it didn't do.
And if this friend was to be a great King, this kind of fondness was a slap in the face.
Arthur's last words still hung in the air; he was looking at Merlin questioningly and the warlock knew that he was on the very brink of destroying everything he'd fought for.
"I'm sorry, Arthur" he said laboriously. "I didn't see it that way. I just wanted this fighting to stop, this tearing apart of lives and hopes. We've all fought so hard already, I thought it was time to…" he shrugged, searching for words "I don't know, to just live for a change."
"So you thought you nail my ass to the throne and then you can finally take a long overdue vacation?"
"Something in that style." Merlin thought that he had to do something about his knees wobbling every time he had avoided total disaster.
"Can't say I really blame you." Arthur wrapped his arms around his own body like he was suddenly freezing. "It's hard to be mad at you for saving my hide, considering the alternative."
"Morgana, even Gwen thinks that you would've welcomed death" the warlock muttered, only to close his eyes in despair immediately afterwards. Great! Fantastic! Jump from the frying pan right into the fire, Merlin.
He almost toppled over with astonishment when Arthur just lowered his head meekly. "I'd not been that lucky" the King said. He looked up and met the wizard's gaze. "They wanted me alive; so that I'd be forced to watch how they erect new pyres for the likes of you in the name of the Christian God. Camelot would've been stripped of her last resources to fatten the realms of Leodegrance and Lot, while my own sister and Morgause would have become our enemies again, in sheer self-defence. Who knows, to save yourself and the Druids from another purge, you'd been forced to change sides, too." He inhaled deeply. "And every death sentence, every arrest, every attack on a Druid village would've been made in my name. It would all have been my doing, because I had been such a fool."
"Yes you were" Merlin wanted to say "everybody who plays on your deference to honour and the knights' code can make you a complete fool." He gulped it down as it didn't fit with his newly found resolve not to belittle his friend's beliefs any more.
"Why do you say that?" he asked instead. "What purge?"
"Marke is a decent man, his faith is genuine and there is much merit in this kind of Christian beliefs. Tristan, his heir, is cut of the same wood. But Erec is a fanatic. Uther kept him on because of the man's fierce hatred against magic, because it matched his own. Leodegrance is dead and Lot I can buy but the fanatic – I will have to bring my foot down in defence of the Old Religion and the Druids without insulting Marke's feelings and his church, and the dispensing of the fiefdoms during the ovation ceremony must be my first step."
"I still can't see what it has to do with me!" Merlin yelped when Arthur ripped his knuckles over his head while he grabbed him in a strangling hold. "Ow! Let go, you prat. Or I'll turn you into a toad!"
"That's not seemly for the great Emrys" the King said. "A warlock born of legends must behave with some dignity in public. He must not play childish pranks, with swords and stones or otherwise. And if he does, no one must ever know."
"I'm Merlin. I'm a peasant boy from Ealdor. I can do whatever I want."
"You were Merlin while I was Prince Arthur. Now that you've made me King, these happy days are over. You're Emrys, Court Magician of Camelot, Speaker of the Druids by Algernon's decree and a constant and reliable Member of our Crown Council. No tomfoolery with the other servants, no herb picking in the middle of a working day, no nice little naps in the stables, no comfortable neckerchiefs and loosely fitting pants any more – as of this day, you'll live on the serious side of life, as much as I do."
"Why should I?"
"Because I say so!"
"I won't!"
"You will!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"
"Watch me!"
"Watch me!"
Merlin shouted angrily as Arthur twisted his arm behind his back and pushed him forcibly towards the horses. "Let go of me. I warn you."
"Morgana also thinks we need you. Would you rather I'd send her out to fetch you and see your childish behaviour?"
Still muttering irritably under his breath but without any further resistance, the wizard mounted his horse and made ready to ride back home. Alas, not without a last attempt at having the last word. "I have no clue of what a Council Member has to do."
"Algernon has it all worked out. As he knows exactly what he wants, he also knows exactly what you're going to say. Doubtlessly he'll brief you on every possible detail. Lengthily."
"I'll embarrass you in front of everyone and then you'll see. And it will all be your fault."
"Isn't it always?"
"You bet it is!"
As Arthur only smiled at that, Merlin's spirit rose considerably. Gods, he loved winning a verbal duel once in a while. Maybe he wouldn't be such a total loss in the Council after all.
However, just when they were about to leave the lakeside for good, Arthur reined in his horse suddenly. "As for my wife, Merlin…"
"What of her?"
"This night after Uther had been captured…. You didn't see anything?"
"Only your foolishness."
"Good. Make sure it stays that way. Gwen was with me all night, and the nights after that, she's never been anywhere else during all this time in the camp."
"Sure, she was with you. What of it?"
"There's another child under way since these days. My child. Understood?"
A forgotten picture shot through Merlin's mind. Gwen in Lance's arms, crying, complaining, angry. Everyone had seen Arthur some time during this night and the following day, Gaius, Merlin, Morgana, even Morgause. Everyone but Gwen. After her initial outburst, she had been almost invisible.
Suddenly Arthur's anger towards Lance had a new dimension.
"I know you're going to have a second child" Merlin managed to press out. "Everyone does."
Arthur nodded. "After all, that is what Gaius has officially announced, is it not."
"Yes. Yes, sure. We're all very glad."
As their horses slowly vanished on the way to Camelot Castle, Gwaine and Leon dared breathing again in their hideout under some bushes where they had been crouched ever since Arthur and Merlin had met.
Finding Arthur's track had not been difficult, but following him here had been a masterpiece. Gwaine's masterpiece, as Leon had to admit not without a small bout of jealousy.
While they both stretched their stiff limbs, Leon was a bit crestfallen as he looked at his companion. He had no clue as to what the last part of the overheard conversation had been about, but he had a pretty good idea of what a King's wish for privacy might be. Remorseless he was that he had eavesdropped, as it had been impossible to avoid. But the thought of what Arthur might say if he knew... "You were right Gwaine. The King wouldn't have been very pleased if we'd interrupted that special conversation."
"I'm always right."
"I'll mark that down!"
Gwaine grinned, pleased with himself and with the world. "You're gaining on it, Leon. Who would've thought I'd see the day." He pointed towards the clearing where they had left their own horses. "Shouldn't we make sure that they both make it back home safely?"
"Right again!" Leon turned his head. "Are you coming, Lance? We're going back."
"Yes. Yes, I'm coming."
Gwaine looked at the other knight more closely. Jaws clenched, pale faced and with his eyes gleaming, Lance didn't look very happy. "What's crawled up your ass and died?"
"Nothing. I'm tired. Let's go."
Whilst underway, Leon as well as Gwaine pondered the conversation between Arthur and Merlin silently, chuckling from time to time. Neither of them had a problem with the ruse Merlin and Morgana had conjured up. Sometimes fate needed a little push to work out properly, everybody knew that. Everybody except Arthur obviously, but then royalty lived by different rules.
So the young warlock would have an official function at Court now. That promised to be fun (from where Gwaine was standing) or lots of misunderstandings and tumult (from where Leon was standing).
Lancelot, however, had started counting days and months. And he had begun to remember.
"You must come with me. I need you, Gwen."
"He needs me too. Now go before I say something I might regret!"
"Gwen I love you. I cannot live without you. Arthur already knows. You must come with me. He won't take you back now that he knows. You have no choice."
"Get out, you bastard. Get out of my sight. I curse the day I first set eyes on you."
"You do not even trust him. You've said so yourself. You've said you love me even back then, in the Mercians' den."
"I didn't know what I was saying."
"He's not the man he once was, not the man we hoped he'd be. He's nothing but an empty shell."
"Arthur is twice the man you are. It takes more than a sword to make a man." Lance still remembered the contempt in her face, the disgust, like he was an ugly, slimy animal she wanted to get rid of. "But how should someone like you understand that. All you ever wanted is a uniform and a weapon."
Sir Lancelot had many endearing and admirable traits of character but he lacked every empathy for despair, for mortal shame or the kind of guilt that can strangle a person's self-respect. He had no idea of what a human being may say just to get out of an unbearable situation only to forget what has been said as soon as possible. He had taken everything she said at face value and he would never forget it.
To the humiliation and the hurt these words had caused came a terrible disappointment. He had been so very proud when Arthur had knighted him; he had looked up to his Prince, admired him, trusted him. If it hadn't been for his love for Gwen, he'd never gone back on the man.
When he reached his quarters that night, Lance had come to terms with what he had heard: For all her idolizing him, Arthur Pendragon was nothing but a fraud, a cheat and a liar. Such a man could not be allowed to raise Lancelot's child. Never.
Sooner or later, there would be a chance to set things right.
Breathing was so much easier now that he knew it wasn't his fault.
It was Arthur's fault. His fault alone!