Part II, Chapter XVIII, Two Roads
Having learned of Guinevere's innocence Arthur desires mightily to begin the search for Guinevere. With Morgana on the loose though he knows an open search for his lost love might endanger her. So Merlin and Arthur set out to find Morgana and bring her to justice. However with things still tense between them the journey does not go well as Arthur begins to probe all of the lies that Merlin has told him. Spoiler warning for episode 2x8 and 4x9.
Previously in The Exile
Chapter 15, The Aftermath, Merlin:
Merlin froze and that acid feeling of guilt burned in his stomach. When had Arthur's skin become so dull, his complexion tinged with an unhealthy yellow? His cheekbones always prominent were still more visible, dark circles rode heavy and black under his eyes and somehow he seemed even to have aged…. chapter 15
Chapter 15, The Aftermath, Merlin to Arthur
"I'm a sorcerer Arthur I always have been." The words came out in a whisper
TheExile, Part II:
-Guinevere Called Jenafere-
Chapter XVIII: Two Roads
Rain had fallen during the night; their horses' hooves – the usual clip-clop muffled as they fell on the soft ground- stirred that lush scent of water and earth. Here and there sunlight broke through the forest canopy to glint with diamond brilliance off the leaves of the trees. Arthur was aware of these things but could not take his usual pleasure in them. He surveyed the forest mechanically looking for any evidence of a threat. When he saw none his eyes went to Merlin.
Arthur studied the back of Merlin's head and bit out another curse. Merlin didn't even bother to turn his head this time. Arthur had been doing that for a while now, staring at Merlin's head and spouting curses.
"How did you stop the dragon?"
"What?"
"Don't be coy Merlin. How, did you stop, the dragon?"
"Very well," Merlin sighed and turned in the saddle. "Balinor was my father."
"What?" Arthur asked.
"When he died I became the last dragonlord."
Arthur looked the other man up and down. "I see but how?"
"It just happens." Merlin explained. "From father to son."
"I'm sorry about your father," Arthur offered.
Merlin shrugged."It was a long time ago now."
They rode on into the woods, accompanied by birdsong and the droning of bees.
"So you're a warlock and a dragonlord?"
"Yes."
"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom,"- Grigor had advised after questioning Merlin.
"The last dragonlord."
Arthur felt the heat of rage boil through him and pound in his ears. He spurred his horse forward, snatched the reigns from Merlin and brought both mounts to a stop.
"You're the one who freed the dragon aren't you?" He stared Merlin down eyes glinting with anger.
Merlin stared back and Arthur felt some satisfaction as fear flickered through his eyes for just a moment.
"Yes."
"All, those people, are dead Merlin." Arthur waited a moment for the other man's response. "Men, women and children are dead because of that monster. Why shouldn't I execute you right here and now?"
Merlin tried to think. How could he possibly make Arthur understand?
"Answer," Arthur demanded reading the confusion in the other man's face and growing more outraged with each moment. "Why would you release that monster?"
"Monster?" Merlin's eyes narrowed and he drew in a breath it was for this type of thinking that he had never known his father. "Dragons are not monsters; they are creatures of wonder and magic."
"Wonder-"
"-Yes wonder," Merlin interjected as the wheels in his mind began to turn and he thought of all the innocents Uther had killed. "He is only the monster that Uther made him. He has only committed the same crimes your father committed."
"My father-"
"Your father would have burnt Gwen at the stake twice were it not for me." He stared Arthur down. "That's right Arthur your father killed innocent men, women and children just like the dragon."
Arthur stared at Merlin unable to speak.
"And Tom, what about poor Tom? We both know he was innocent but he was murdered by Camelot guards."
"Tom," he paused. The guilt that would never leave him bubbled forth now. "Tom tried- he tried to escape." The words came out in a soft, muttered sort of way.
"And does that make it easier for you to sleep at night? Uther murdered innocent people. He hunted them, inflicted torture and terror on them and then he killed them. He hunted the dragons into near extinction. Thanks to him I only spent a twelve hours with my father. If I have the blood of the people of Camelot on my hands, then so does Uther. And as long as you uphold his policies so do you." Merlin took the reins of his horse back and urged it forward into a gallop. "We should not dally here."
Arthur stared after the other man a moment before following. He couldn't deny Gwen or Tom's innocence and if he were honest there had been other innocents unjustly executed during his father's reign. He thought about the slaughter at the druid camp, and his hands tightened on the horse's reigns. He had not been directly involved in the killing but he had been young, inexperienced, unable to control his men. In truth he should not have been the one to lead that raid. There was blood on his hands. They rode on in silence for a while.
"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom"
"Merlin stop," Arthur halted. A warm gust of wind stirred the leaves of the tree and ruffled the blue linen shirt he was wearing. "Regardless of what my father has done, I need to understand you. This is about your choices and your actions. Over a hundred people were killed by the dragon. Why did you release him?" Arthur asked.
"I had no choice," Merlin said simply.
"There is always a choice Merlin," Arthur felt some flicker of annoyance.
"I had given him my word. Kilgarrah-"
"Kilgarrah?" Arthur looked at him askance.
"Yes he has a name. Kilgarrah has actually helped you."
He heard some pride in Merlin's voice.
"Me? The same dragon that tried to destroy Camelot?"
"Yes." Merlin said plainly. "I was not so practiced in my magic when I first came to Camelot. Without his guidance you would have been dead several times or married to Vivian." He said the last with a bit of a smirk
"Well, Guinevere, ah sorted the last out," Arthur said scratching the back of his head.
"Who do you think convinced her to go to you? She was right pissed with you."
"And why would the dragon help me?"
"I'm not sure honestly. Dragons are nearly immortal; they think about things differently but Kilgarrah and other prophets believe that during your lifetime, as king, you will lift the ban on magic. This is one of the steps on the road to bringing peace to the kingdoms of Albion, something that you are supposed to do."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Why would I do that?" Arthur looked at Merlin expectantly.
"Perhaps because that is the only way to bring peace," Merlin said. "Perhaps because you come to see that magic users can be good, innocent people that help Camelot, I don't really know. Regardless I don't know why Kilgarrah helped you," Merlin said. "Perhaps he just hoped that helping you would help him in the long run. Maybe he hoped that he would be released when magic was no longer illegal or some such. Maybe," Merlin paused and let out a breath, "maybe he was just wanting to get me indebted to him so I'd have no choice but to agree to free him."
"That's why you're not supposed to consort with magic users they're-" Arthur looked at Merlin and stopped himself.
"You can trust him with your life but not your kingdom."
"We're what?" Merlin challenged.
"You're-" Arthur paused he'd been about to say killers, thieves or fiends but he couldn't say that to Merlin. "I don't know what you are!"He finished and urged his horse forward.
The two men continued in silence until they came copse of yellow magnolia trees, drooping under the weight of their flowers. Petals, yellow and sun bright in the gloom of the forest covered their branches and carpeted the earth while their perfume sweet and soft enveloped them. Arthur let his horse slow to a stop at a fork in the road. He took in the scent of the flowers, let his eyes drift shut. The fragrance conjured Guinevere. An afternoon when they had gone riding and he had picked these very flowers for her. His hand recalled the warmth of her fingertips brushing his when he handed her the flowers. He could see her smile wide and bright when she pinned one of the palm sized blooms into her hair. His hand drifted to the ring lying atop his heart.
"Guinevere."
"Why did you help Mordred?" Merlin asked.
Arthur started, blinked and returned to the present.
"He was a child, an innocent," he glared at Merlin.
"Ahh, so magic users can be innocent."
"Perhaps he wasn't a magic user," Arthur said. "We couldn't be certain and it wasn't fair to execute a child for something he might become."
"Nor is it fair to execute every magic user for something they might do," Merlin with a pleased little smile like the ones he wore when he felt clever.
"That's different," Arthur said. "I thought you said you knew where we were going?"
"I do, you're the one that stopped."
Arthur glared, "Which way Merlin?"
The other man considered both paths a moment.
"Right."
Arthur urged his horse forward and snapped a blossom from a low hanging tree as they passed.
They took lunch at a glade in the forest near a stream. The flowing water created a babble that might have been soothing at another time; today nothing could calm or quiet his mind. Events that never made sense had been coming back to him ever since Merlin's confession. They bubbled to the surface in a slow but steady trickle. Some he dismissed but others needed answering.
"Did you lie to me about my father and mother?"
"Huh?"
"Did you lie to me about how my mother died?"
"I," Merlin hesitated and sighed. "I couldn't let you kill your own father."
"That's not what I asked you Merlin?" He could hear the tremble in Arthur's voice.
"I know." Merlin held Arthur's eyes letting the other man read the answer in his face.
A rage Merlin hadn't seen in years suffused the king's face and Merlin trembled as his stomach soured with dread. Arthur got to his feet skipped a rock across the stream.
"How could he do that?" Arthur yelled. "How could a man do that to someone he claimed to love?"
Merlin looked at the ground speaking to Arthur the words that Gaius had spoken to him.
"By the time Uther came to love her, it was too late."
He looked up and watched the play of grief and anguish across the king's face.
"Does it matter?" Arthur bit out voice heavy and husky."Does that make it any less monstrous?"
Arthur stared down at him a crow cawed in the distance.
"You're not you're father. You're not like your father."
The king took a breath and sat down
"What- How-"Arthur paused.
Merlin watched the other man's pale blue eyes, bright with unshed tears as they followed the progress of the stream again and waited for Arthur to ask his next question.
"What do you know about that type of magic?" He asked at last.
"What do you mean?" Merlin frowned.
"Magic that gives a life, what do you know about it?"
For a long time Merlin was silent and then he surprised Arthur by telling him a story about the day he was bitten by the questing beast.
Not the story he knew. Not the story of Guinevere sitting at his bedside, nursing him, saying to him the first kind words that he would have from her lips; words that rooted themselves in the fertile ground of his heart and mind when he was already half in love with her. Merlin told the story of an encounter with the sorceress, Nimueh, the use of the Holy Grail, a bargain struck to save a life and Merlin a willing sacrifice but unexpectedly the magic did the choosing.
"You, your mother and Gaius but why?" Arthur asked bewildered his throat tight. "Why would you do that Merlin? What great thing have I done to warrant that type of devotion?"
"You don't know your own value Arthur, your possible greatness," Merlin frowned. "Your father's corrupt choices overshadowed you." He shook his head. "You're the king who risked his life to save a servant, something most kings would discard without a thought." Merlin swallowed round the lump in his throat and looked away a moment blinking rapidly. "In Essetir we were very poor. Much of what we grew went to taxes. Uther was a horrible tyrant but he made laws and he followed them. Cenred was not that type of king and you, Arthur, by that time had risked your own life to save mine. You'd helped me protect my mother, something her own king would not do though it was his duty and you drank that poison draught when you failed the unicorn's test to save Camelot. I could not let the good that you might do in the future be taken from the world."
Arthur held Merlin's gaze searching for signs of deceit. Trying to understand the man that had hidden so much from him for six years. Would he know the signs if he saw them? Who was the man behind his clumsily, bumbling servant?
A family of ducks came down the stream quacking to one and other in loud squawks.
"We probably shouldn't linger," Merlin said.
"Yeah." Arthur got to his feet and Merlin did the same.
"Arthur, listen to me," Merlin said. "I am your friend."
"Are you or are you just like everyone else? My friend because you want something from me?" The words came out with unexpected bitterness. "The ban on magic lifted perhaps."
"Then would I have let you kill him; you would have lifted the ban after that."
Arthur stared at him and Merlin tried to let his sincerity show in his eyes. After a while the other man snorted and turned away without a word.
The two men mounted and the tension between them was still honey thick but now it pressed down from above as well as pushed between.
Though it was the height of summer, darkness came swiftly under the forest canopy. Both men kept their eyes open for an appropriate campsite, neither wanted to be in the saddle as darkness fell nor attempting to set up camp after the sun was gone. They found a site about twenty paces from the beaten path with more than time enough to make camp. The site was in a little dip screened by trees and new growth. It would be difficult to approach without making noise and the vantage from where the dip started to climb gave a good view of anyone or anything moving through the under growth as long as there was daylight.
With it being only the two of them Arthur helped with some of the work of setting up the camp. He laid out his own bedroll, gathered firewood, dug out the fire pit and got the fire going. The horses and dinner preparation were as always left to Merlin.
The wizard removed his horse's tack and found himself half way through Arthur's before he paused. The king sat relaxed leisurely sharpening his sword as Merlin worked. According to Kilgarrah he was the most powerful warlock in the world, he was a dragonlord by birthright and he'd saved the Arthur's life so many times yet here he was the same always.
The king looked up as if sensing Merlin thinking about him and glared before looking away. Perhaps now was not the time to change things. He sighed and finished removing the horse's gear. Arthur had felled two rabbits as they'd traveled with a well flung stone.
Merlin sat down near the fire and began skinning the rabbits.
"Merlin," Arthur looked up. "I sometimes gave you twice or thrice the work I knew you could do. I didn't expect you to finish it all but you always did. That was magic right?"
"Yes."
Arthur sighed and studied him a moment through the dancing flames.
"I thought you were good at delegating."
"What?" It was Merlin's turn to look up.
"You were servant to the crown-prince and then the king. You outrank most of the servants in the palace. I'd always assumed you'd put them to work." Arthur frowned. "That's what you do when you have work enough for three have three people do it. I thought you were good at delegating, at leading the other servants."
Merlin snapped the twig he'd been toying with in half.
Arthur tested the sharpness of his blade and felt some satisfaction at the line of blood on his thumb. He sheathed the sword and sucked briefly at his thumb. Merlin got the rabbits and some tubers, he'd dug up and spitted them all to roast. Then since he was hungry and it was late he used a bit of his magic to speed the process. When he handed Arthur his plate the other stared at him suspiciously but said nothing. The two men ate in silence, the sounds of the forest at night grew into a subtle sort of cacophony, owls looing, wolves calling to their packs, insects chirping for their mates, the rush of not too distant water, the leaves trees rustling in the wind and none of it visible. Outside the dim golden glow of their campfire nothing could be seen.
The darkness of the forest was impenetrable. The canopy shut out the silvery bright light of the stars and a half full moon. A tree that he had studied moments before the sun had finally set was now for all intents and purposes invisible. Merlin liked this peaceful darkness which brought the world to a stop.
In that frozen moment he recalled his promise to Grigor. His promise to tell Arthur about the vision with Guinevere.
"Arthur I had a vision-" He considered how he might start. "Arthur ever since Elyan returned with Gwen's ring-"
"I can't just make magic legal."
He looked at the king and saw him reclining against his pack toying with the flower he'd picked earlier that afternoon.
"What?"
"I can't just open Camelot's borders to any and every magic user." Arthur brought the flower to his nose and paused. "I also can't leave the people of Camelot vulnerable to every magic user with a grudge."
"Well no." Merlin agreed.
"How do I stop someone from giving me a pendant or bracelet that usurps my will or makes me stupid and turns me against my friends?"
"There are protective magics but right now you are still vulnerable to something like that happening."
Arthur snorted and sat up now.
"With all the enchantments I've seen in the last few years how come you've never used any of these protective magics?"
"And how was I supposed to give you a charm or a poultice? 'Here's a protective charm Arthur. Please burn me at the stake now'."
The king did not look amused.
"Many of the problems we've had are due to this war on magic. Most magic users are healers, people trying to summon good luck or charlatans which is a problem but very few of them are looking for war."
"What about," Arthur paused. "What about Lamia, those people who turn children into weapons?"
"You don't have to allow all types of magic."
"But it has to be policed. People have to make these charms, the charms have to work and they have to be available. We can do without magic," Arthur said thoughtfully. "And it seems to give people an unfair advantage. I mean even an untrained peasant can get lucky or desperate and defeat a knight or bandit with a well swung pot." He took a deep breath."What happened to Guinevere all those other women, how were they supposed to escape that? It ruined their lives, it ruined," Arthur paused his expression told Merlin that he was searching for a word."It ruined everything."
The last words came out softly and Merlin stared at Arthur wondering himself for just a moment why should magic be legal.
"Magic users have defended Camelot, given their lives for it and magic isn't going anywhere. I was born with it, Morgana was born with it. People are going to continue studying it; they will continue to teach it to their children. You can't kill everyone, in all of Britannia that has magic; you can't erase it from existence. "
Arthur looked away from him but Merlin thought he saw something grim creep into the king's expression. He felt a dawning sense of dread. What if Arthur were thinking exactly that? Not out of hate, guilt or hypocrisy like his father but that it was best for Camelot.
Arthur would gladly give his own life for Camelot if he judged that to be best. In his mind it would be no hypocrisy to ask others to do the same. Merlin rubbed sweat dampened palms on his trousers and tried to think.
"It is the ban on magic that turned Morgana against us."
Arthur looked at him askance.
"Morgana wants power, she wants to be queen," Arthur denied.
"No, not at first, something inside her changed. You need to listen to me and you need to you simply need to accept what I am about to say to you because you can't understand it if you have not live this life." Merlin felt his stomach go sour and he gripped his knees to keep his hands from shaking. "Remember, Morgana was born with her magic."
Arthur did not speak, merely watched his expression calm, patient.
"When her magic came upon her it frightened her, sickened her, she thought she was a monster, just like I had." He couldn't look at another man, another human being and say these things. Things he'd barely admitted to himself but he had to if Arthur was going to understand. Merlin lifted his head and met Arthur's eyes. "Imagine being told all your life that there is a monster out there, a terrible thing, a thing to fear, to hate, to kill. Every time something bad happens, every time something that we don't understand happens, the monster does it. Then you find out you're the monster, the thing to be hated, the thing to kill and all that hate and fear turns inward and yet," Merlin paused, "it can only turn inward so long. Uther treated Morgana poorly at times but what set her against us was magic."
Arthur didn't say anything and he continued.
"Morgause wanted an ally in Camelot. She tried you first and when that failed she honed in on Morgana."
The king pursed his lips and looked terribly sad for a moment.
"Why didn't you tell her about your magic so she wouldn't feel, this," he paused to search for a word, "this isolation?"
"I don't know, I'm a servant. Would it have helped? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps she would have turned me into Uther. Perhaps it mightn't have made a difference to her, then again maybe it would have been just enough for her. I couldn't know and look at where she is now. If I had told her and she still betrayed us," Merlin shook his head. "I don't know, I'm just a servant."
Silence descended again and Merlin stared into the flames wondering if he dared do a magic trick.
"What the hell?" He muttered to himself and forced the fire to assume the shape of a butterfly.
Arthur gasped and looked up at him quickly.
"Raises my spirits," Merlin said. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll take the first watch."
The king nodded.
The arena, place of so many victories, stood empty now. The noon-day sun beamed down, baking the hard packed sandy ground and heating his neck and shoulders to the point of slight discomfort. He rubbed his left hand against his thigh to ease a dull ache there. Guinevere liked the feeling of the sun soaking into her muscles; he liked standing in the shade of a tree and watching her savor it. Relaxing in the sun was not an activity for the arena.
He had no armor today only trousers and sandals. He looked to the royal box expecting to see his parents there. Instead he saw Morgause and his mother and it struck him that they were both red and gold.
"He will have to choose," Morgause said.
"It is vital you make the right choice my son." Igraine smiled at him compassionately and he returned it.
"It is time to choose Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said and he felt for a moment as if a cloud passed before the sun taking all the warmth and life of the world with it.
"Arthur?"
He turned and saw Morgana, not as he'd known her in recent years but younger, sweeter as she was before Camelot's magic ban drove a wedge between them.
"Arthur."
He looked in the opposite direction and saw his father robust and healthy.
"Choose," Morgause said again and gooseflesh rose on his limbs.
"Arthur!" Morgana shrieked.
He looked to her feet and saw them sinking into the sandy ground.
"Help me!"
"Of course," he replied.
"Son."
He looked away from Morgana and saw that his father was sinking too.
"Choose."
He looked back to Morgana and in the time that he had looked away she had sunk up to her knees. Morgana was smaller, a woman- no a girl really. He went to her first. The code of chivalry, the knight's code demanded it be so, protect the weakest.
"Come on Morgana." He took her hand and pulled expecting her to come free. She kept sinking albeit more slowly.
"Arthur. Help me, please son."
He looked to his father and saw that the older man was sunk up to his hips. He was bigger, he would sink faster. Morgana's grip on him tightened and he tore away. He had to help his father. Arthur dashed to his father's side and dug his heels into the earth. He pulled at the older man with all his might. Uther sunk no more but-
"Oh gods!"
He heard fear in her voice and saw tears in her eyes.
"Help me please!"She was sunk up to her breast.
His father's grip on him tightened as if Uther sensed the inner conflict.
"You have to choose," Uther said.
Arthur tore away from his father, Morgana needed him more. He got his hands under Morgana's armpits and tugged.
"Come on Morgana use your magic!"
"I'm no monster," she wailed! "Don't leave me again or I'll disappear."
She was right but if he didn't go to his father then Uther would disappear. He looked around the arena; he just needed a length of rope. It appeared at his feet and working quickly he got the rope around Morgana's bust just beneath her armpits. He wrapped the excess in his fist and pulled it taught. Then he took up another length and did the same for his father.
"Interesting choice Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said and Igraine looked distressed.
"I'll save them both!" He declared defiantly.
"Look again." Morgause said.
He looked and saw with some horror that the ropes had merged with his flesh.
"You have to make a choice." Igraine urged.
They were both sinking fast now, pulling him down to the ground with them, sending searing pains through his limbs. They shrieked desperately for help even as they tore him apart.
"But you've already chosen. Don't you remember?" That was his mother's voice.
He was in the throne room now begging his father's forgiveness for trying to kill him, for believing Morgause's lies. But his father had betrayed his mother!
"That's right you've already chosen."
His mother's voice was calm and soothing.
He looked up and saw his father on the throne, Merlin to the left, Gaius to the right…but his mother. He looked to the opposite end of the throne room they stood near the door, his mother, Morgause, Morgana and even Guinevere.
"Wait I haven't chosen." He started toward the door.
"Yes you have," Guinevere said with calm acceptance.
"But I didn't know everything." He complained.
"Yes," Guinevere's eyes, dark with condemnation met his "but you still chose Arthur."
Arthur fed a stick into the fire. He watched it catch; little sparks flew outwards, some of them landed hot and stinging on his hands. He lifted his eyes to the woods now hidden by the dark. He was learning to hate the night, the dark. The time when the world stopped and all the things he'd rather not think about forced themselves to the front of his mind. The time when he woke still tired, hours before the rising of the sun and knew he'd be exhausted long before his day was finished.
Tonight he couldn't even slip down to Guinevere's house or any of those little places all about Camelot where he might cherish his memories of her and have some comfort. The fire popped and hissed as one of the larger branches now white hot splintered and broke. He found the magnolia blossom that he'd picked earlier, inhaled its sweet scent. It wasn't enough.
"But you did choose Arthur."
"You have already chosen."
He got up and paced as far as the firelight would allow. Arthur thought back to the line of logic that led him to take the words spoken by his mother's ghost as truth. It wasn't simply that everything in the place felt right and proper and good. It was a thousand little things that he knew about his father that told him this was the truth behind his father's hatred of magic.
Uther was coldly logical about so many things, calculating his steps before taking them weighing each move and what it would gain him. Yet the purge was not logical, his reaction toward magic was rife with passion and hatred. Yes after the wars magic needed to be limited but Uther felt less anger for a simple murder than the saving of a life with magic. And there was the denial… his father could deny any thing that he did not like, any truth that did not suit his world view.
It did not matter that Grigor and Efan took such good care of him, that they were smarter than so many nobles that outranked them, it only mattered that they were yeomen and barely noble themselves. It didn't matter that Lancelot had more nobility in his small finger than half the arrogant young sons that came for knight training every year, only that he had not been born so, so therefore he could not be.
Hearing that story had filled in the gaps, answered a thousand questions, finished so many unfinished conversations…he thought of Grigor's words to him.
"People always make sense in their own minds. When they don't make sense it is because we don't have all the information.'
His father's ban on magic, the guilty way his father had looked upon him sometimes it had all made horrifying sense when he'd heard that story. He swallowed and that had meant it must be true. He had long ago promised himself that he would not live in denial about anything. The rage that he had held at bay since Sarah Goode's death surged again.
"But you did choose Arthur."
A strange laugh bubbled up inside of him, burst forth. Choices, his choices were a collection of nothings made based on deceit, half-truths and mis-information. Having confronted the moment of wanting to kill his father, Arthur never wanted to be in such a place again but he could have imprisoned his father, studied the situation, perhaps even lifted the ban on magic… Perhaps that moment at the end of his dream would have been different. Guinevere, Morgana and Merlin might have stood with them to face Morgause's threat. Perhaps Morgause mightn't have opposed them at all. If Merlin was right, there would not have been a need.
"But you did choose Arthur."
If he had known that Lancelot was a shade-
He looked at Merlin sleeping peacefully. He thought about the last moments of his dream Morgana, Morgause, Guinevere and his mother all in opposition to him.
"But you did choose."
Yes he had chosen but Merlin, who was supposed to be his friend, had decided what he did and did not know, had let him make decisions that cast Guinevere and Morgana away from him when otherwise he might not have done so. He looked at Merlin sleeping peacefully in the light of the fire and hated the sight of him.
Merlin woke to Arthur shaking him roughly. It never meant anything good when Arthur woke him from his sleep.
"Hurry up!"
Arthur shoved a plate of leftovers from last night's meal into his hands and hurried off. The fire was out and buried. The horses were saddled and ready, the camp was completely broken down. Not good, not good at all.
"Get-up!" Arthur ordered.
Merlin scrambled out of his bedding before Arthur could yank it out from under him. In short order his bedroll was tacked behind his horse's saddle and Arthur was mounting.
Merlin scrambled one-handed into his saddle and used his magic to keep from spilling his breakfast.
"Go ahead," Arthur said when Merlin merely looked at him."You know where we are going?"
The king's eyes flashed like lightning and Merlin swallowed.
"Right." Merlin set his horse to trot and did his best eating one handed in the saddle a new feeling of dread taking him as Arthur bit out three curses.
"What is it?"
Arthur's horse came alongside his.
"Ugh," Merlin squinted and studied two diverging paths. "Just making certain we are going the right way."
Arthur regarded him with a gaze that rose gooseflesh on his arms.
"I thought you said you knew where Morgana made her home?"
"I do. It's just," Merlin hesitated but a moment, "it's impossible to think with someone glaring and swearing at you every twenty paces."
Arthur seemed to consider that a moment before riding away a few feet. Merlin sighed and studied the route trying to remember all the landmarks. It took him but a moment to pick out the proper path.
He looked at Arthur who sat stiff and tense in the saddle. Last night he had been open and reflective. Now the king was- Merlin muttered a quick spell to reveal any trace of enscrollment and felt his shoulders slump. Arthur had simply become angry again. He took a breath.
"It's this way," he called indicating the proper direction.
"Finally," Arthur said impatiently.
Merlin urged his horse forward, leaving the king to follow.
It was not so very much past noon when they reached the forest valley where Morgana made her home. Merlin had guided them to a position that allowed them look down upon her house without being seen. He suggested that Morgana was residing in a cellar that had once been part of an old Roman fort. Looking down upon the roof of the building he could make out faint lines in the valley floor, here and there dark colored stones peeked through. Still if he hadn't known what he was looking for he would not have spotted it until they were right on top of it. Strategically it was very well placed.
"Wait here."Arthur ordered Merlin as he dismounted.
"Where are you going?"
"To scout for signs that anyone is about." He glared at the other man and started quietly down the valley slope keeping as much to the trees as possible. He searched for foot print,s tracks of people and saw nothing recent. Here and there he saw footprints partially dissolved by the rain but nothing more recent than two days ago.
Every now and again there was a slight blur on the edge of his vision but Arthur ignored it, a sign of weariness. He would rest when Morgana was taken care of and not before. His path took him to the roof of the building and Arthur kept his steps soft and quiet. He found what looked to be a chicken coop now abandoned. There were small human prints around it but they were also at least two days old.
Arthur lowered himself to the ground in front of the little house. There were a couple of narrow windows. He peeked into them and seeing no sign of Morgana or any other inhabitant felt the beginnings of frustration. He tried the door and found it unlocked. After waiting for any sign of life, any stirring, he pushed it open and waited again. When no one challenged him he entered.
Arthur studied the dark collection of underground chambers. Whomever had lived here was now gone. It had been abandoned recently for there was little dust, debris no animal tracks and nothing that suggested current habitation. There was furniture cabinets, a bed, rough hewn table, chairs but no linen, no candles, no books, no kitchenware, no clothing, no magical implements. If this had been Morgana's hiding place she had abandoned it.
"It's empty."
He turned to see Merlin standing there wearing his usual befuddled expression.
"You're certain this is the place?"
The manservant nodded.
"She kept the Femorah there," Merlin indicated a cabinet "and this was where- it doesn't matter. Where could she have gone?"
"I don't know. Merlin."
He studied the other man a moment, the confused expression, the look of surprise seemed genuine but Merlin had been deceiving him for nearly six years. Arthur heard the pounding swell of rushing blood in his ears. Had Merlin known about Morgana's hiding place for nearly a year now?
"This femorah was the thing Morgana put in your neck to control you?" Arthur rested one hand on the table.
"Yes," the confusion in Merlin grew.
"And Guinevere helped you resolve his problem?"
"Yeah."
The anger that had been swelling inside him broke. He rushed his friend, pinning him to the wall, mailed forearm against his throat.
"That was months ago Merlin, months." It came out in a snarl. "Harboring an enemy of Camelot is tantamount to treason. If you can't deliver Morgana what good are you?"
Arthur's free hand hovered near the hilt of his blade and he glared at Merlin, waiting, waiting for his reply. He did not expect the other man to disappear. He looked around and saw Merlin standing near the door.
"What are you doing?"
"You look about ready to kill. I'm not gonna just stand around and let you beat me and I'm not going to fight you with magic." Merlin darted out the door and Arthur followed at a run only Merlin was nowhere to be seen.
He stood motionless, an ocean of rage pounding in his ears and he could feel the thump of his heart against chest. He'd never actually been aware of it before. Arthur scanned valley for Merlin but only saw no sign of the other man, only the earth leading away from the cellar all churned and muddy. He focused on the churned up earth. This was important.
Arthur brought his hand to Guinevere's ring, stroked the warm metal between his thumb and forefinger. The rage receded, the sea grew calm. He saw the churned muddied earth for what it was footprints, lots of footprints, rank upon rank of them and then the most brutal pain knifed through his skull. Arthur gasped and his eyes watered, his vision blurred round the edges. He staggered two or three steps while the world did somersaults before collapsing face first in the dirt as his bowels voided themselves.
A/N- Thank you all so much for reading and the concern expressed by many of you about the lay-off. I'm sort of excited actually, I'm getting to write as much as I want and I'm slowly rearranging my life.:)
To guest reviewer megan: Since it has a been asked a lot throughout the course of this story I will answer this question here. Exile readers, Arthur and Guinevere will meet again in due time however remember what the great dragon told Arthur the, longer her suffers Guinevere's absence the more he will value her presence. So please be patient, Arthur and Guinevere will meet again when the time is right.
Also guest reviewers please remember I cannot answer your question via PM. I will answer them in the notes of the chapters following the review as well as on the profile page.
Chapter 19, sneak peak: Brighter Days:
to Guinevere:
"Well I hope this rift betwixt the two of you is well on its way to being mended. Oh and there is a note for you in the parlor Ms. Jen." Ms. Alfonsa smiled "I believe it is from Physician Pradeep."
"Physician Pradeep!" Gwen ran into the parlor missing the amused smile that Ms. Alfonsa gave her before continuing out the door.
To Ms. Jenafere of Alfonsa's Boarding House
Having inquired after your character and receiving several recommendations from mutual acquaintances I have decided that you might suit or establishment quite well. I should like to offer you consideration for the physician's assistant position. If this is still your desire as well you are scheduled to meet with me five days hence at the hour of ten.