Ch. 1
Arthur's boots scraped over the filthy stone floor of the oubliette. The light of his lantern glittered on the slime coating the walls. In the corner diagonal from the ladder was a pile of old, molding hay, much of it scattered about, but some of it still in a pile. In the opposite corner was a hole that seemed to vomit up the most putrid smells - that of urine and waste left to rot. In the far right corner was an even smaller hole in the wall, just big enough for rats to get through.
Arthur slowly closed the shutters of the lamp, letting the darkness creep in around him. The shutter slid the final inch with a squeak, and the darkness swallowed him.
Arthur's eyes immediately strained to see something, anything, making his eyeballs and head throb without mercy. He heard something scratching…
Arthur fumbled with the shutter until it opened, driving back the dark with is flickering light.
A month.
Arthur recalled with unwanted vividness seeing Merlin curled up on the patient bed. His skin had been like shriveled, white parchment pinpricked with scabs and oozing sores. It had shrunk tight to his joints and between the spaces of his ribs, and had made his shoulder blades and spine like something you could cut yourself on. That skin had been caked in layers of filth, more filth matted in his shaggy hair and beard, and he had smelled as the oubliette smelled now. Like something left to rot.
A month.
Merlin had screamed in terror and pain when he'd been dragged from the dungeon, according to one of the guards. Those guards, the ones meant to take care of Merlin, to move him from the oubliette to a cell, had been sacked, placed in the stocks, and then forced to spend a day in the oubliette. Which, maybe, wasn't punishment enough, but it had sent a clear message – don't ever assume to interpret the will of the king.
A bloody month.
Arthur hurried up the ladder and pushed aside the unlocked trap door. As soon as he was out he sucked in several deep lungfulls of air through his nose, clearing out the stench of the oubliette. Some distant part of his brain casually mentioned the possibility of cleaning the oubliette out. A louder part suggested burying the blasted thing and never using it again.
One more deep breath, and Arthur felt steadier. He hadn't realized he'd been shaking. But, then, this was the first time since he'd started making his trips to the oubliette that he had attempted to brave the dark, short as it had been.
A month.
Merlin had been down in that thing for a month.
Arthur had often tried to soften the thought with the assumption that Merlin had probably summoned some magical light to keep the darkness back. It was a comfort that had been thoroughly smashed when Gaius had explained that Merlin would have become too weakened and addled to be able to use his magic.
Merlin had still been in that solid darkness for lords knew how long.
Arthur took another breath, then walked as regally as he could through the dungeon before the shakes returned, passing the new guards who kept their attention on their midday meal and not their king per his instructions. They were to pretend he wasn't there.
Arthur tried not to hurry up the steps, but as soon as he was out the door, back into the sunlit halls of the citadel and momentarily alone, he exhaled a great breath of relief. He composed himself once more as he walked back to his chambers.
It was strange how you could perform an action over and over and not know why you were performing it. He had only wanted to visit the oubliette once: to understand what Merlin had gone through, to see if it was really all that bad, to punish himself – he didn't know. But one visit had become two, two had become three, and today would make it the fifth time he had visited, at least once a week since Merlin had left, and if time permitted. And if it was meant to have accomplished something, enlightened him or punished him, then that accomplishment had yet to happen. Maybe it never would.
Which would be fitting. Arthur was the last person on this green earth who deserved any kind of closer.
Arthur reached his chambers where a pile of papers waited to be looked over, signed, or denied. The majority, he knew, would be letters demanding why in the world he wished to bring about the legalization of magic, and so soon after his father's death from an illness brought about from his depression over Morgana's betrayal (which, at the time, had been yet another distraction from Merlin's unknown plight), while others would be further correspondence from the various Druid leaders, who were the only representatives of magic that Arthur knew of (and who weren't trying to kill him).
The papers were neatly stacked and organized on the table, his chambers spotless as if only recently built and furnished.
They were also empty, and it caused a mild pain in Arthur's chest that had yet to alleviate. He liked to tell himself that the pain was merely frustration, because he could really use Merlin's help right about now in all these magical matters. He was painfully aware that he was fooling himself.
But Merlin wasn't here, life continued moving forward, and a king could not rest simply because his friend wasn't around (and, lords, why was it so easy now, after all this time, to call Merlin a friend? When the boy was miles away and no doubt wanted nothing more to do with him or Camelot?)
Arthur picked up the first of the papers from a stack on the right and began to read. No sooner had he started when there was a pounding on his door, followed immediately by a startled sounding "Gwaine!" and then Gwaine bursting in, Lancelot trailing behind trying to stop him.
Sadly, this Arthur had gotten used to, as well as endured as a show of penance (and because if he didn't allow Gwaine his occasional tantrums, then Gwaine would find worse ways of acting out, such as throwing a tantrum in front of all the lords and knights).
"Sir Gwaine," Arthur greeted. Gwaine stepped up to Arthur's desk, standing rigid as a tree. Lancelot stepped up beside Gwaine looking harried, exasperated, but not particularly contrite. But that was Lancelot in a nutshell for you – passive-aggressive when he wanted to be, but still respectful of his station if not his king. And that, too, Arthur endured.
"Seems we have ourselves a bit of an issue, sire," Gwaine said with as much bitter emphasis on the word "sire" as he could muster, which was quite a bit.
Lancelot rolled his eyes at Gwaine, then straightened respectfully. "A messenger has arrived from Annis' kingdom, sire. He says the message he has is one of great urgency. It concerns a danger making its way toward Camelot."
Arthur nodded. "I'll meet him in the throne room. Gather the knights so they can be present for what he has to say."
Lancelot bowed, "Sire."
Gwaine gave him a two-fingered salute, "Queenie."
"Gwaine," Arthur growled, because there did have to be some limit. Arthur was still the king.
When Lancelot and Gwaine left, Arthur dressed himself in one of his finer jackets. His father would not have approved, but Arthur had long since decided that such decorum was a waste of time when it came to urgent matters. He would rather his men see him as another man, a fellow knight and someone who prefers receiving the news of approaching danger as quickly as possible over dressing regal and imposing. The 'imposing' he used only for the lords and those from neighboring kingdoms.
As Arthur made his way to the throne room, he could not help but think of Gwaine and Lancelot and the battle of wills fought over a sorcerer in an oubliette. He'd had to arrest Gwaine four times for trying to sneak into the dungeons to break Merlin out, and locked him in a tower chamber each time (Arthur, under the impression that Merlin had been moved to a cell, hadn't wanted Gwaine to be within range to communicate with him). Lancelot had mostly given him the silent treatment. But Arthur had asked Lancelot, one day, why he didn't help Gwaine free Merlin.
"Knowing Merlin, he wouldn't want to go," Lancelot had said sadly. "He wouldn't want to leave you unprotected. And I'm sure he believes staying where he is will prove to you that he's still the same Merlin he always was."
It was a poetic kind of irony that Merlin had left, anyways.
Neither had Arthur yet to be in any danger. On the other hand, what with the laws to reassess, angry lords to appease and Druids to meet with on his grounds, neither had he been in a position to be ambushed. But patrols had also been quiet save for the occasional bandit attack that was easily quelled, and all Arthur could figure was that word of magic's legalization had spread, and all magic user were waiting with baited breath to see if Arthur was a man of his word.
Really, it was only fitting that there would rise a problem, now, just as they were all getting lulled into a false sense of security. Arthur entered the throne room and took a seat on the throne. His knights plus Gaius soon gathered, and when they had all arrived, Arthur gave a nod to the guard by the door. The door was opened and a bearded man dressed in a mix of rough tunic, breeches and animals skins hurried in, dusty from the road and with a determined look on his face. He was escorted to the throne, where he knelt in respect while holding out a scroll. Leon took it and handed it to Arthur.
"Rise and state the matter of the situation," Arthur said. "I'm told of a danger moving toward Camelot?"
"A danger moving toward all the realms, sire," the man said. "The details have been provided on the scroll by queen Annis, but the long and short of it is…" he took a breath, and seemed suddenly unsure of how to proceed. "Well, sire, it's going to sound a bit mad. But I promise you that what I say and what is written on the scroll is all true. Queen Annis would never mislead you on such a matter."
Arthur nodded, "I know. Go on."
"Well, sire, the nature of the situation is a man. But not just any man. A giant of a man, as tall as a tree, and leading an army made of shadows. He has been traveling across country, taking lands as he goes, and none yet have been able to stop him. He has already decimated three villages in our kingdom, claiming the location of those villages for himself. Annis has sent her entire army after him, but he refuses to fight unless it's with her strongest champions. And, believe me, sire, we tried to attack. But, well, it seems this giant is well versed in magic. We can't go anywhere near him unless we agree to his terms. A battle with our greatest champion for the land. If our champion wins, the giant will leave. If the giant wins, the land is his. But none have yet to be able to defeat this being."
"And it is heading for Camelot?" Arthur asked.
"Annis met with the rulers of those realms the giant had already passed through. It seems he is on a steady course, one that has already taken him across the borders into Lot's realm. Should he continue on this path, he will soon cross Camelot's border."
The messenger gestured at the scroll in Arthur's hands. "All the details of Annis' research and a compilation of accounts is in that scroll. She has sent one to every kingdom, even those not in the giant's path since we have no idea if his intent is to eventually invade all the realms. There is also a map marking where he has been and where he is likely to end up. The queen begs your assistance to help stop this being."
Arthur nodded again. "And she will have assistance. I'll need to review this information, but tell your queen that we will be riding out to meet this giant as quickly as possible."
The man bowed again. "We thank you, sire."
The man was dismissed, and Arthur immediately called his top knights to meet him in the war room. There they unrolled various sheets of parchment from the scroll until they found the mentioned map, while Gaius looked over the information. Arthur had servants fetch the maps of the realm and for Lot's kingdom as well, to determine what lay in the giant's path.
Arthur paled.
The giant's path would take it directly to Ealdor.
~oOo~
Arthur felt not unlike he was preparing for war. Which, based on Annis' information, he most certainly was, futile as it seemed. Others had apparently tried brute force against this being, charging on the giant only to be met with an invisible resistance that held them back. A magic shield, Gaius had called it, and a powerful one to keep an entire army at bay.
"What do you know of Giants, Gaius?" Arthur asked while Gaius packed his medical supplies. There were also stacks of books on his table, ones he requested from the library in order to research as they traveled. Since Arthur's contribution to all the packing had been a list of weapons for the black smiths to sharpen and squires to pack into the wagons, there was little else for him to do save for gathering whatever other information there was to gather. He also helped Gaius while doing so, fetching bandages and bottles as Gaius asked for them.
"Not much," Gaius said. "But then what there is known of giant society speaks of an intelligent but rather uncomplicated race. Being as large as they are, they can be rather territorial, living mostly by themselves or with a mate. Most are said to reside in the mountains and places too difficult to reach for men of our size."
Gaius went to the table and began packing a few of the books into a leather satchel. "What is known is that in giant society it is customary to keep that which belongs to whoever they defeat. This includes land, herds, even a mate and children. Even an entire kingdom at one time if the tales are to be believed, although which kingdom is still up for debate."
"Are they generally a magical race?" Arthur asked.
It surprised Arthur when Gaius shrugged, as if it were a matter that was neither here nor there.
"They will practice magic if it suits a particular need. However, for a giant to have enough power to be able to hold back an entire army… well, as I said, they are an uncomplicated race, but that does not mean they aren't full of surprises as well. It could be that this giant managed to defeat a sorcerer, one with many magical secrets. Or it could be he stumbled onto something of power. Giants will also keep whatever they happen to find."
Arthur nodded, rolling a bottle of white potion between his palms.
"Gaius…" Arthur said, hesitant, not wanting to ask this question but needing to know. "How might Merlin take my… our arrival to Ealdor?"
Gaius paused in his packing. He looked up, and pressed his lips into a thin line until they seemed to vanish.
"I don't know," he said.
"But you have said he's doing well."
Gaius said nothing for a moment, which was never promising. He then resumed packing.
"Health-wise he is improving, according to his mother."
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "And yet why do I sense a 'but' you're not willing to tell me about."
"Mostly because it's not my place," Gaius said sternly. But he immediately softened. "It may be best that you keep your focus on dealing with this giant, and worry about Merlin only after the matter is dealt with."
"Except that Merlin might be able to help us," Arthur said.
Gaius sighed and looked up. "Or he might not. Arthur, I know you will want to seek him out when we arrive at Ealdor, but please heed my advice – let Merlin be the one to come to us. Do not try to seek him out. It could only make matters worse."
Arthur scowled at this. If they would indeed need Merlin's help then there would be no time for waiting. But, then, Arthur remembered the day when he had gone to Merlin, and asked to see some of his magic. He remembered with painful clarity the way Merlin had paled, how he had started to shake as tears filled his eyes. He remembered Merlin's fear and despair as Merlin said no then broke down weeping as though something inside him had been torn open like a wound.
What right did Arthur have to ask anything of Merlin?
Merlin had bruised his trust.
But Arthur had broken his mind.
"I won't seek him out, Gaius," Arthur said. "I swear."
Gaius nodded, looking sad and old. "Thank you sire." He managed to squeeze one more book into the bag before closing it and carrying it to the door to add it to the small pile of supplies. Halfway there, he stopped and turned.
"Arthur," he said. "You are not a perfect man, and you have made mistakes. But you are learning from your mistakes and letting what you learn make you a better person. You are a good man, Arthur."
Arthur chuffed bitterly. "Then why do I feel like anything but a good man?"
Gaius smiled. "Because good men also never realize that they are good."
"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur said politely. "But you don't need to try and make me feel better."
"Doesn't make what I said any less true. You would not have earned Merlin's loyalty and the loyalty of your men if you were otherwise."
"If you haven't recalled, Giaus, I abused that loyalty and lost it," Arthur said hotly.
"That does not mean it cannot be earned back," Gaius said.
Arthur highly doubted it.
TBC...
A/N: Yeah, I know I offed Uther a little anti-climatically compared to the show, but I'd kind of forgotten all about him with the first story and kind of, sort of needed him out of the way for Arthur to legalize magic. ^^; Apologies to Uther fans.