A/N: So uh wow I took a while to write this one huh.
Here's 9000 words of shit okay bye
"Sire, our plan was to rid Merlin's quarters of what may be considered suspicious."
"Now, Gaius," Arthur started, pointing the flimsily folded together stack of papers at the older man. "As Camelot's rightful king, it is my responsibility and duty - nay, my obligation - to educate myself on my kingdom's expansive history."
"You are holding a book about magic, Arthur."
At that, the prince scoffed and held his hands out defensively. "Is magic not part of our history? If I recall, it plays a rather large role, actually. And this - " he held up the leaflets, showing the cover off, " - is a handwritten record and description of historical sorcerers and sorceresses. It would do well for our safety to research what made them so powerful, yes?"
The disapproving look on the older man's face said everything needed. It was probably wrong to be taking a book that belonged to Merlin, but what else were they to do with it? Or, for that matter, what were they to do with anything else?
There was something within Arthur which gave him a certain fascination with magic. It might have had to do with the fact that he'd been raised from birth to hate it and only just recently began to learn acceptance, and perhaps it was due to Merlin himself that he'd been so interested. But, no, he understood that to be false. He'd always felt a distant relationship with magic.
A deep desire within him to learn more.
His mind wandered back to the vision of his mother. Born of magic. Even though he knew it was a lie, it felt like the truth.
Everything about Merlin's quarters seemed so plain and simple on the surface. A single bed in the center of the room, near blank walls, earthy and muted colors found in any commoner's household. It was nothing of suspicion; at least, at first glance. Arthur knew his father's method of trial and knew well that his investigation would turn the entire building around to find anything which could convict Merlin.
Yet, there were books, herbs, leaflets and deformed or partially destroyed ancient-looking jewelry, bottles and foreign liquids hidden all throughout the room. They were underneath sheets, hidden between floorboards, concealed within and behind cabinets. By the time they were finished clearing everything out, they found more than they knew what to do with.
Gaius was muttering something to himself in the corner while scanning a scroll. Arthur thought he'd heard something like, 'never would have allowed him to have this,' but decided not to question it.
He hid the book from the older man's sight, placing it within his satchel.
"What will you do with all of this?" the prince asked, referencing the disorganized and multicolored pile.
At that, Gaius pulled his eyes away from whatever he'd been analyzing and eyed Arthur. It seemed as though, while he was still processing all of the information he'd been given just minutes ago, his head was focused on getting the sorcerer's name cleared. It set the former king's mind at ease that there hadn't come any overly negative affects of his explanation.
Gaius was reacting relatively well for someone who'd just been told that the man in front of him had been from the future.
While he was skeptical, it became much easier to believe after Arthur confirmed that it was Merlin's doing. He wondered briefly just how many times the warlock's magic caused such trouble.
The older man responded, "Even your father is not fully aware of my chamber's, Sire. I will have them hidden, for the time being."
Arthur nodded in approval. There was enough reason to trust that the physician had it under control. There were other things they had to worry about, after all. Emptying out any and all physical evidence that may convict Merlin of having magic was only one step in clearing the sorcerer's name, and a lack of real evidence hadn't in the past stopped Uther from holding an execution.
And that was the person he'd saved, was a thought that passed through his head, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. He shouldn't have been getting second thoughts about saving his father's life, even jokingly. He may not have made all the right decisions, but Arthur loved him.
Still, clearing Merlin's name came before even his own conflicting feelings.
There was a lot that Arthur had to do. He knew from experience just how stubborn his father could be, and how irrational his reasoning could so frequently turn out. Even if there was enough to point to Merlin not having magic, Uther would likely stick religiously to his own eyes and ears. There had to be a way to convince him that what he'd seen and heard was false.
Otherwise, he might have accidentally given up the life of his best friend for the life of his father.
"Be careful, Sire," Gaius said quietly, just before Arthur closed the door.
His travel back to the castle made him far more drowsy than he thought he'd been feeling prior. At such a late hour, he was unable to see many stepping through the stone hallways, only managed to pass by a number of guards, and he secured the door to his chambers shut. Some of his men gave him strange looks, likely confused to see him out so late for seemingly no reason, but he wasn't once confronted.
His head hit the pillow at an alarming speed, sending him almost immediately into unconsciousness.
Within the darkness, within his deep sleep, underneath the moon's light, he felt his spirit shift.
Merlin awoke with a considerable amount of back pain.
His eyes opened to darkness and the feeling of cold rock beneath his back. At first, he'd thought that he was still in the Crystal Caves, but little added up to that. He'd no longer been kneeling on stone ground; instead, he was lying against the slanted wall of a cave.
He turned his head to the side and tried to adjust his eyesight to his sudden black surroundings. The crystals were completely out of sight, the only source of light snuffed out. All that appeared left was the freezing caverns. From the distant dripping and draft of musty air, he could at least tell that he was still in a cave, but it felt like a completely different one.
What of the Crystal Caves? Where had they gone?
He searched his brain, tried to uncover his muddied memories, and began to remember exactly what he'd done.
Blood pooling below him, shard of glassy crystal slipping from his cold fingers -
He stood, shaking the dirt from his otherwise clean clothing; clean, he made note of, because he couldn't feel a single stain. It almost felt like he'd been dreaming, or perhaps moving in slow motion, lugging his body through a thick, dark blanket. Even placing a hand in front of his face, he couldn't see it, let alone make his way through the tunnel.
Merlin took a step forward, then another, and nearly ran himself right into a wall. There was no way he could navigate through properly, and he decided to lay a hand upon the cavern, hoping to feel his way out. His senses were dulled, barely even present, like they were being suppressed.
He'd barely felt there, physically speaking. As if his mind was the only thing moving, and that he was simply pulling his body along.
A minute passed as he made his way blindly. Yet another, followed by countless more.
After what felt like an eternity, Merlin stopped and slid himself down the cave's side.
It hadn't felt like he was getting anywhere.
He buried his face into his knees and groaned, voice echoing. Was he perhaps dead? He could believe it, knew for a fact that he'd just killed himself, but he thought that he'd sent himself back in time, just as he'd done to Arthur. There wasn't anything to show that he'd succeeded or even that he'd failed, only darkness and loneliness, only the empty and unrecognizable caverns.
Maybe this was a form of punishment for what he'd done, some unknown force making him wander endlessly through nothing. Merlin knew of just how badly he'd altered the destinies of everyone he knew, of how he changed their fates, and perhaps this was his comeuppance. Fitting, he thought it.
All he'd wanted was to save the life of the person he cared for most, of the person he was destined to protect. Yes, those intentions caused him to change what should have been left alone, caused him to use a type of magic he shouldn't have, but he'd messed up before in ways that seemed irreversible and on most occasions was able to fix his mistakes.
Something lit up the corner of his vision, prompting him to jerk his head up.
It was a light.
One single light, floating beside him.
Merlin stood in shock.
He couldn't tell where it had come from, or what it was even made of, but it allowed him to adjust his vision to his earthy environment. He wished to reach out and touch it, to grasp the gleam in front of him, but it traveled away from him just before his fingers could wrap around it. The sphere held a familiar heat to it, an inherently comforting essence, but Merlin couldn't quite place where he knew it from.
It slipped past him, glowing to reveal the path ahead. Something within it felt alive, as if it were part of someone's spirit, or conjured through a person's very life force; whatever it was, Merlin knew it came from an outside source.
Someone was guiding him. That much was clear, though he couldn't quite think of who.
The brightness of the sphere painted the cavern's walls a gentle blue, the twisting walls forcing the flow of the wind to push softly against his skin. There was no way he could have been able to find his own way out, even if he'd tried for hours. Too many pathways diverged, to many dead ends, too many strange and unnatural routes made up the caverns.
Every time he fell slightly behind, the light would stop and wait for him to catch up, then shift itself away when he got close enough. It allowed him to finally look down at himself to confirm that yes, he indeed had no visible injuries, and there wasn't any indication that he'd slit his own throat.
How that was possible, he had no idea, but he wondered if it had anything to do with the ethereal orb and its apparent knowledge of how to exit the cave. And yes, he imagined, that was exactly why it was leading him along. If it hadn't given off such a wonted air, he wouldn't have trusted it so quickly, but its own intent was clear. He understood its purpose.
It was showing him the way out.
It was showing him exactly where he needed to be.
And wherever or whenever that was, he would follow. It made him feel strangely loyal, like he'd known it for years, like Merlin had an undeniable connection to the small source of luminosity. His mind followed it, body easing its way as he dragged it along and stepped closer to the light. Though there was no way of figuring his destination, it didn't make him anxious.
Perhaps it was leading him to Hell.
Perhaps it was leading him to Arthur.
The wind picked up and he knew, somehow, that he was nearing the cave's end.
"Why are you trying to postpone this, father?"
Arthur had made plans to return as soon as possible, to confront Merlin just before the sun rose and discuss everything, to - well, not explain himself in his entirety, but to at least come up with a plan to make Merlin out to be the last person a sorcerer could ever turn out. It had worked well before, but fighting against his father's own personal experience was considerably more difficult.
Except, once he'd returned to the castle, he got word that his father put off the trial for a few days, for reasons not explicitly stated. To say that Arthur was displeased would have been an understatement.
Once he'd heard of the newly issued sentence, he threw the doors to his father's throne room open and stalked inside.
Uther leaned back, bringing a gloved hand to his chin. "I will be the first to inform you that something precious has been stolen from our kingdom's vaults," he stated sternly. "Until we can solve this crisis, the investigation will be indefinitely delayed."
"What - this is absurd," the prince exclaimed. "What's so important that it's been stolen?"
"Three men were killed during the thief's escapade."
Arthur moved forward and raised his voice. "I asked what has been stolen."
"A portion of the triskelion," Uther answered, hanging an arm off of the throne. "It is one of three parts. When all are combined, it creates a key to the tomb of Ashkanar. Within it holds the last dragon egg in all of Albion and if that egg is taken from its place, this kingdom could be in grave danger. It must be destroyed; only then will this ridiculous trial take place."
Once his father mentioned the dragon egg, Arthur tuned out the rest.
He'd completely forgotten about it, about the whole ordeal.
But his first priority was not on the egg; instead, it was on Merlin's trial, first and foremost. He had no idea why it could not just quickly take place, why his father could order him to follow the thief later.
"This would not be the first time you've made a false accusation of sorcery, father," insisted Arthur. "Merlin's trial must take place as soon as possible, else you're...condemning a man to illicit imprisonment! Have you no sense of justice at all? Do you truly wish to go through with the punishment of a man who very well may be innocent?"
"I know he is not innocent," the king stated. "And though I ensured that I will entertain your affections for the boy in thoroughly proving just how guilty he is, there are more pressing matters at hand. After the egg is found and broken, the investigation will commence."
His sure tone sent Arthur into a spiral of rage. He took a step back.
The king was entirely convinced of Merlin's guilt, had no doubts about it at all, and likely thought of it as a game of sorts. He wasn't worried or even upset, only happy to penalize a man for a crime he was surely culpable for. It couldn't have made Arthur more angry, or more resentful of his father. Was there nothing he wouldn't do to harm those affiliated with magic?
Without responding to his father's retort, Arthur made his way down to the dungeons.
"You used me."
It was the first thing he'd heard Merlin say when he revealed himself from behind the wall, and all he could feel was confusion.
Less than a moment passed before the prince's eyes widened, all of what he'd wanted to say completely gone from his mind.
Used? What could that have possibly been referring to? And last Arthur checked, his manservant was more lost than he'd been when he first arrived in that time. Merlin stared with a mixture of accusatory vexation and amusement. This version of the warlock wasn't like how he'd remembered the man only a day prior, not at all like how nonplussed he'd acted.
Arthur moved forward, getting a better look at the sorcerer. Merlin stood stiffly, arms at his side and lips turned slightly upward. In his face was a form of knowing, a sort of awareness, an understanding which Arthur increasingly saw throughout the years they'd known each other - wait.
Was that Merlin?
Was that his Merlin?
He hadn't even considered it, not once, the idea that the sorcerer might come back for him, that he'd have traveled back as well. Could that truly have been the warlock he'd come to know? It would have been the same one who'd saved his life, the same one whose arms he'd died in just a few days before. There was only one possible way to find out, but he couldn't be obvious about it.
"...Merlin?" he asked in a hopefully unequivocal way, in such a manner which could be quickly taken back if he were wrong, but one which could only be construed very specifically, in only one form.
"Yes, My Lord," Merlin replied with a nod.
That was the final aspect gave it away, but something else confirmed it for him. The eyes.
They were much darker than he'd seen just the night before, and held a sort of wisdom he only knew could come from one person, at a different time. They were aged beyond the years this Merlin should have seen, stained with the blood of unknown and fallen men, laced with a magic Arthur had so often interpreted as something entirely different.
It had to be...
Arthur's shoulders fell as he spoke breathlessly. "You're here. It's...it's you. Merlin, you're - hang on," he paused, only just then realizing what his manservant said. "Used you? Exactly how have I used you?"
"You don't know?" there it was, the sarcastic and priggish tone he'd so often associated with the sorcerer. "Well, what about forcing my younger self to help your father live, and to help him kill a man? Or, perhaps, it's the fact that you decided to make me reveal my magic to the both of you, and that you allowed the king to lock me up in a dungeon."
Arthur looked around, disoriented. He hadn't exactly been expecting this to be their first conversation. "I had no other choice!" he said, stretching his arms out, attempting through all of his puzzlement to defend himself.
"Didn't you?" Merlin moved toward the metal bars and stared accusingly. "The very first thing you do after you're sent back in time is alter the course of history in the most drastic way possible. Did you not think once of the fate of Camelot, Arthur?"
The former king raised his eyebrows and gave a disbelieving laugh. "Really? You're blaming me for changing this kingdom's destiny, after everything that's happened? And you call me a prat - Merlin, if you've somehow forgotten, and I have my doubts that you have," he said bluntly, staring intently at the warlock, "it was you in the first place who sent me back here!"
Though it was clear that Merlin was about to give a response, likely even more sardonic than the last, Arthur raised a hand and turned his head to the side. It silenced his manservant long enough for the both of them to hear footsteps.
Just as they'd registered that someone was coming downstairs, a deep voice addressed Arthur, "My nephew, the king worries of your faithfulness to your manservant."
It was Agravaine. The former king composed himself as best he could.
"I can't say that I understand what you mean," he responded, feigning ignorance.
There wasn't much to know about Agravaine. Despite the fact that Arthur was aware of his uncle's betrayal, he had no idea of just how deep it ran and how far back his deception would have applied. Exactly when had he pledged his obedience to Morgana? That, Arthur couldn't tell, and he couldn't quite confront him about it, either. Only having partial information made him feel stagnant.
"In his words," Agravaine stated. "My brother has already lost one child to the persuasive magic and superior allegiances of another. He cannot handle losing another, let alone the successor to his throne. He only wishes for you to understand where your true loyalties lie."
"I know well where my loyalties lie, uncle."
At that, Agravaine smiled tightly. "I'm sure that you do, Sire," his gaze traveled back to Merlin. "But I do hope that your apparent knowledge lets you make the right decision."
With a curt nod, the black-haired man turned to exit the dungeons. Arthur wondered in that moment just how far his devotion to Morgana ran, exactly how long he'd been against Camelot's line of rule, and if here was some way to change his mind. He was the brother to Arthur's mother, after all, and he knew his mother to be one of the kindest people he'd ever met.
Could he have been so far off, being related by blood to such a person?
For the first time since Agravaine had entered, Arthur turned to look at his manservant.
Merlin was white as a sheet, eyes dark and focused on the spot last held by Arthur's uncle. His brows were furrowed as if he were in deep thought, or if he'd somehow been caught committing a terrible crime. Arthur looked inquisitively at the sorcerer. His stare was one of a man who'd done something treasonous, or at the very least one of a man who'd accepted his own guilt.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked.
Merlin cleared his throat.
"Odd seeing a man I've killed back alive and standing, is all."
The casual confession gave Arthur a considerable amount of pause. He moved to the cell's doorway and gripped the metal gate. "...You murdered my uncle?"
"Hm?" Merlin crossed his arms and pressed his lips together, looking as if he knew he'd been caught. "Well, I - yes. I did. You...Agravaine was to kill me if I hadn't done so to him first."
Arthur nodded his head instinctively and looked to his side. He couldn't have said he was shocked, nor that he was displeased. Yet still, he reasoned, there'd been a bit of a recognizable pattern. "I see," he said in a flat voice, then narrowed his eyes. "You know, Merlin? It seems to me that you're rather exceptionally good at killing my family."
Though the words were spoken without any malice or ill intent, they still stung the warlock to silence.
"And, actually," the former king continued. "Now that we're on the topic, would you mind explaining exactly what happened when...all of this occurred for the first time? When my father first died? Why is it that Dragoon the Great was unable to save my father, as he'd promised?"
"Morgana placed an enchantment on an amulet," the sorcerer responded immediately and off-handedly. "She had Uther wear it. It - it reversed any healing spells."
That revelation changed quite a bit.
He had a feeling that something had gone wrong, that perhaps the warlock made a mistake, or something. If that were true, it wouldn't exactly have mattered too much; Arthur had already decided to forgive Merlin, in that case. And yet, the fact that there was a genuine reason for why it hadn't worked, the fact that it wasn't even partly Merlin's fault, altered his entire viewpoint.
The prince cleared his throat and looked to the side. "Seems like my family is also good at killing my family."
Merlin huffed in response and raised his eyebrows. "Your father seems one of the best at that."
"...If I didn't know any better, Merlin, I'd say that you're not quite pleased about my father being alive," he accused, no malice evident in his voice. He couldn't blame the sorcerer for seeing his father in a less than favorable light, no matter how much his instincts made him want to. Yet, the level of distaste Merlin seemed to have despite the circumstances seemed at least a bit irrational.
There were both good and bad aspects about what was happening, but Arthur thought the good was ultimately stronger. They were both together and alive. Hadn't this been what the warlock wanted in the first place?
Merlin shrugged innocently and cocked his head to the side. "Well, he did try to kill everyone, yeah? That includes me. And he tried especially hard after he learned about my magic. I have a right to be not quite pleased, I think."
"Excuse me?"
"What?" he responded, beginning to get angry. The irritated outburst surprised Merlin, as well as somewhat offended him. "Arthur, I'm not about to blame you for having a glorified view of your father, but even you should know that he tried with all of his power to kill us. He tried to kill you before I stopped him!"
To his confusion, the former king began to shake his head. "Not that," he replied. "My father knew about your magic before I did? Who else knows? I swear, Merlin, at this point I wouldn't be shocked to find my entire kingdom knew all along, and that I was the only one left in the dark."
Merlin rolled his eyes in reply. "Well, there wouldn't have been much reason to keep it secret then, now would there?"
He made a valid point, but that fact only served to annoy Arthur more.
Even though they were both able to speak to each other once more, he still felt as though everything was completely shrouded in mystery, like Merlin returning to him made no difference at all. Shouldn't he have been asking questions? And yet, he couldn't come up with the right questions to ask, or how to properly phrase them, or even if Merlin would know the answers.
Before he could come up with a decent rebuttal, or a response at all, the sound of jangling armor and loud footsteps caught his attention. He turned to see a guard readying himself for the dungeon's night watch. He was likely issued the order by the king.
Arthur knew that he couldn't say another word; at least, not one which could give away what his plan was, and completely scrapped the idea of discussing Merlin's trial. It could wait, for the moment, and he had more time to think it over. "I will speak with you later," he said simply, then turned to head for his chambers without listening for Merlin's reply.
As he walked through the halls, footsteps louder than he thought necessary, he noticed two voices.
He'd been planning to retire to his chambers for the night and see Merlin when the sun rose, first moment he could. As it was rather late, he hadn't expected to run into any person not on guard throughout the castle, let alone two. They were speaking low enough for Arthur to be unable to hear them, but he could see them fairly easily from around the corner.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
Arthur watched the two from behind the wall.
She had her fingers brushing delicately across Lancelot's arm, both smiling to each other and far too close for friends to be, in Arthur's opinion. His knight brought a hand to Gwen's shoulder and he said something, though the prince couldn't make out what, and she gave a graceful laugh. It was saddening to watch, as well as more than infuriating.
While Guinevere and Arthur were unable to be together as they were, it didn't stop the former king from being jealous. He remembered how she betrayed him in the past, how she'd taken to Lancelot when they'd first known each other, and how those feelings were rekindled after he seemingly returned from the dead. It only furthered his destroyed trust in others, at the time.
There wasn't a doubt that Guinevere was one of the best and most loyal leaders he'd ever come across. She held the kindness of a thousand angels, the warmth of a childless mother. He thought of no one who would better succeed the throne.
He also thought of none of his knights who were more loyal from the very beginning. Arthur certainly held Lancelot in high regard, thought of him as not only one of the strongest men he'd known, but one of the most true. His eyes and presence could make anyone feel trusted and safe. No matter how much Arthur wanted to hate the man, he couldn't.
Even so, Arthur was unsure if he could stand another heartbreak.
There was no doubt that he loved Guinevere. Back when Lancelot returned and she'd evidently fallen for him, Arthur found it within himself to forgive her, and their relationship grew even stronger because of it. They'd both chosen each other in the end, despite showing feelings for others in the past, and he knew that he could trust her to be loyal to him from the moment she became his queen.
And yet, he saved his father's life, and he knew that he would never be able to marry Guinevere with Uther on the throne. They would have had to work even harder at their relationship, wait even longer to make it official, and evidently through her blatant interest in Lancelot. Alive, this time.
Would it have truly been worth it to go through all of that pain again?
The answer should have been an immediate yes, he wanted it to be a yes, but a hint of hesitation plagued his decision.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted the two hugging each other, and wished he could make out what they were saying.
A part of him wanted to confront Gwen, to pull her away from his knight, to take her in his arms and kiss her in front of Lancelot, to make clear who she was with from that moment forward and for whom her feelings would always be faithful. He had a deep desire to take her as his queen, regardless of his father's wishes, regardless of what consequences would come.
He wanted nothing more than to pull them apart, or to banish them and never see them again. Yet, he knew he would not have it in his heart to actually do it. When faced with the undeniable decision to have her executed before, he was too in love with her to see that happen. And even then, understanding that her affections were straying once again, he couldn't act upon what he knew his father would do in his place.
Instead, he left the two alone.
Once within his room, he removed the book he'd stolen from Merlin's chambers and pushed it underneath his bed.
"Julius Borden," Merlin stated, just when Arthur turned himself around the wall to face the cell.
The prince looked on, unimpressed. "Stop doing that, Merlin."
"Doing what?"
"Saying these nonspecific things as if I'm supposed to know what they mean, and first thing when you see me, no less," he said, waving a hand to emphasize his point. "Let's not make it a trend. Have you forgotten the word, 'hello'?"
The sorcerer rolled his eyes, but didn't respond.
It seemed as though Merlin had been pacing back and forth for quite some time, arms crossed and fingers fidgety. There were dark circles under his constantly moving eyes, as if he hadn't even made an attempt to sleep within the dungeon. His feet were scuffed with kicked up dirt, clothes darkened and skin pale. The dramatic differences between this Merlin and the one he'd seen a few days ago must have been obvious.
Even beneath his stiff demeanor, Arthur could see that his manservant was shaking. Had he even eaten? He was alive, at least, so Arthur assumed that he had. Still, he seemed somewhat nervous about something.
The first thing the warlock had said was Julius Borden. Was that a name? It sounded like one he'd heard before, though he couldn't quite remember from where. "Who is Julius Borden?"
"The - the man who stole the part of the triskelion," Merlin responded quickly, stumbling over his words. "He wants the dragon egg for himself, for - for power. It's the same thing that happened last time; he stole the key, and he used it to open the door to the temple, and he's probably on his way now to steal the egg. The more of a head-start he gets, the worse it will be for us."
The identity of the thief had slipped the prince's mind, but he began to recall the events that had previously happened. Did he ever issue a sentence on anyone for breaking into the vaults? He didn't think so.
"And?" urged on Arthur. "You know what happened to him the first time? A man like Borden cannot go unpunished."
Then came a vague expression, one that almost looked unsure. "He died," responded Merlin in a charged tone, shoulders raising undecidedly. "Of that, I know. Whether his death came from me pushing him back with magic or the temple collapsing, I can't tell you. I didn't feel it very necessary to check."
Arthur nodded, attempting not to react physically to the casual mention of magic. He figured that it was just something that he would have to get used to, despite his upbringing. It felt strange - wrong, even, in a way - but he knew that was only his father's words talking. He remembered the temple falling into itself, Merlin narrowly escaping and leaving Borden inside.
"He's only after the egg for its power," the sorcerer continued. "I cannot allow him to steal it, nor can I allow your father to have it destroyed."
"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, jerking his head toward his manservant. "The dragon egg was destroyed when the temple collapsed. Are you trying to change the past, as well?"
"No," the sorcerer replied pointedly. "Actually, I was able to protect the egg and get it out safely before it could be destroyed, so it would be an event completely faithful to our past if I did the same, now."
He protected the egg? He'd lied to and disobeyed his king?
Not that it was extremely new for Merlin, but still.
Why had the egg seemed so important to him? The prince couldn't understand it; though, actually, he could think of a plausible reason. Dragons were rather magical creatures, and it would have made sense for the warlock to prevent their complete extinction. Beings of magic were always protective of each other. Then again, there lied one more gigantic problem.
He smiled in a non-genuine manner, feigning as if he were absolutely fine going along with the plan. "Right, yes, though I have a question for you, Merlin. How do you propose you'll be able to get it in the first place? You're a bit locked up right now."
"That's simple," Merlin responded. "I'm going to break out of here once night falls and pursue Borden, and I will take the dragon egg from him."
The prince began to shake his head, staring at his manservant as if he'd lost his mind. "Merlin, of all of the absolute moronic ideas you've had in the past, I have to say, you've truly outdone yourself with this one. You break out and you'll have my men on your back and my father wanting your head even more than he does now. How can this be so important to you that you'd risk everything?"
The dark look in Merlin's eyes told tales of millennia as he let out what sounded like a groan mixed with a sigh and bit the inside of his lip. "You don't need me anymore, Arthur. You are already the king that I have helped you become and I am sure that when the time comes that Uther passes, you will bring prosperity and peace to the land. I'm doing this because of who I am. It is my duty."
Arthur wanted to protest on everything he'd said, wanted to say a thousand things, but he was too much in shock to think coherently enough to elaborate all of his points. He lowered his head and tightened his fists in indignation."Who you are is my servant, Merlin. I will not ask you again. How can this be so important?"
"I am the last Dragonlord, Arthur," the sorcerer stated confidently, raising his voice to match the prince's. "It is my responsibility to make sure Aithusa is not put in the same position as before. I need to take her from Borden's hands and raise her on my own, this time."
"Aithusa?"
"The - dragon."
"You named it?"
"I - " Merlin cut himself off and rolled his eyes. "This is completely off-course of our conversation. The point is that you're not going to involve yourself with this, and I know that you'll want to."
While Merlin had been defiant in the past, he'd never been quite so stern in his tone and wording, as if his order was unquestionable. It might have seemed like he was a different person if Arthur had no idea who he truly was. "If I am to search for the egg and destroy it the same way I did before - and you know that I will - that means I'm already involved with this. You can't change that, Merlin."
"Even so, I won't allow you to partake in what I plan to do," he responded firmly. "Do what you are ordered to, but I will obtain the egg, and I'm going to do it without anyone else putting themselves in harm's way."
Arthur stepped forward and stared into the sorcerer's eyes.
"All these years, Merlin, you've been forced to deal with matters of magic on your own. You've made sacrifices I've yet to fully comprehend, gotten...harmed in ways I'm completely oblivious to," as he spoke, the words came out quietly and carefully. "Merlin, I cannot allow you to go through with this alone. Borden will die, but this time, with my sword through his chest. Understand?"
"Arthur - "
The former king cut him off, narrowing his eyes. "No," he said firmly. "Your hands will not be stained with his blood again. He has threatened my kingdom - he should die by my hand."
It was, in reality, less of a matter of having a personal grudge against the power-hungry thief. Arthur knew that Camelot was just as much Merlin's kingdom as it was his; royal honor had little to do with it. However, the sorcerer constantly made the decision to murder for the sake of others, to spot his hands with their enemies despite never receiving due esteem.
Something inside of the prince made him deeply desire to take some of that from the warlock's already heavy shoulders. Their fates were so deeply intertwined that they may as well have been two parts of the same destiny. If Merlin's spirit had already been tainted in such a way, Arthur would share in that sin.
Then begged the question of why, exactly, he felt that way.
He knew not of how often the sorcerer killed for him or for Camelot. And while Arthur himself and many of his men had no qualms taking the lives of others, thinking Merlin in the same way, putting him in that exact category, felt somewhat wrong. As if he had some sort of obligation to be directly involved in those deaths, as if he needed to connect himself to them.
Was it guilt over being in the dark for so long? He decided to put it from his thoughts.
"We cannot pursue him together," Merlin stated after a few moments, throat constricted. "And your father will not have the dragon egg still intact - "
" - Which is why I plan to hide it from him," he replied, cutting the warlock off.
He'd expected that to solve the issue, but the sorcerer only shook his head, as if there was something that Arthur was completely missing. "You still don't understand this at all," he said grimly. "If I allow any possibility that the egg could be discovered by Uther, or that it could be destroyed, it would be my fault entirely. The fate of an entire species rests upon my shoulders and mine alone."
"Merlin!"
Before he could continue with his objection, the warlock went back to pacing across his cell, gaze purposefully avoiding the prince. It was clear that the issue was no longer up for discussion.
Without another word, Arthur stormed from the dungeon.
"He said that he is 'the last Dragonlord.' Am I to find that funny? Who does he think he's talking to?"
As Gaius was the only one who'd actually known of Arthur's situation - other than the person he was currently complaining about - he promptly stomped to the physician's home and began ranting. Merlin had been difficult in the past, but he was almost never quite this difficult. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true, but that didn't make the prince any less annoyed.
The physician hummed in hesitation.
Arthur walked back and forth as the older man continued to write on a leaf of paper, only stopping on his tracks when he would go off on another tangent. "I was there when the last Dragonlord gave up his life. What could he possibly be talking about? My father did what he could to eliminate the Dragonlords - how could Merlin be one of them?"
Again, Gaius let out a sound of unease. He seemed to be pressing down harder on his pen, the longer Arthur spoke.
Explaining to the physician that Merlin, too, was back, turned out easier than he'd thought. He still couldn't explain how it happened, exactly what magic was used, but he knew that he could get those answers later. There was a brief moment that Arthur could see something in Gaius, a sort of want to see the man he'd come to consider a son, but he knew that he couldn't.
The former king pulled at his hair and gritted his teeth. Not once had Gaius replied to his ranting, though he figured that was only to let him get all of his pent up frustration out as quickly as possible.
"How can he think that he's alone in this? He's acting as if he's a dragon, or - or something. Merlin thinks that it's completely his responsibility to make sure that the dragon egg is kept safe," he rolled his eyes and stretched his arms out dramatically. "Is he an idiot? Well - that, I know, but what could have made him feel this way? Is it just because he saved it before?"
Gaius looked down and sighed.
Something was clearly wrong.
Was the physician withholding information from Arthur? The thought only made him more irritable. "What's wrong with you? Do you know something that I don't?" his voice became certain, realization lacing it. "You - you must, you were the one who pointed us to the Dragonlord in the first place!"
Even before Arthur's sentence ended, the physician began to look anxious. He opened his mouth once to say something, then closed it, as if he were about to deliver horrible news to the prince and had no idea of how to word it. Whatever it was that he could have possibly needed to say, Arthur couldn't expect it to be so bad that he didn't want to hear, and he waved a hand for the older man to get on with it.
"Balinor was the last Dragonlord, Sire," Gaius said bluntly. "Now, Merlin is."
Though it sounded straightforward, the meaning behind it felt cryptic.
That couldn't have been right. Merlin wasn't a Dragonlord - well, Arthur didn't think he was, anyway. Still, it would have made no sense for him to be.
He remembered back to the stories his father told him of the Dragonlords, of their fearsome powers and their legacies. They controlled the dragons, terrifying and terrible creatures bent only on destruction, their abilities too dangerous and too powerful to continue existing. It was the reason Uther had used to kill them, that if they were to all die out, they wouldn't come back.
Arthur asked once why that was, why another Dragonlord couldn't be born again after they've all died, and he recalled the response. The title of Dragonlord not necessarily earned, but passed down from father to son. It had all to do with their lineage, and if they were killed, no more would ever exist.
And then, it clicked.
"His father," Arthur's shoulders dropped, his back sliding against the wall. "The Dragonlord was his father."
The physician nodded, expression somber.
It explained much more than Arthur even had questions for. Why Merlin was so emotional at the man's death - oh, Hell, all that Arthur said - and why Gaius even knew the man in the first place, it all added up. An immense mountain of guilt came crashing down on Arthur and moved his gloved hands to cover his face. That also told him why, exactly, Merlin felt such a need to save the dragon egg.
The last Dragonlord and the last dragon egg. Of course Merlin would have wanted to save the damn thing, and felt it worth his life. It was his legacy, one of his many purposes in life. It finally made sense, though he still didn't like it.
His father attempted years ago to murder every one of the Dragonlords, fearing their power to be too close to sorcery. And if he'd completely succeeded, Merlin wouldn't have existed. That, and Camelot would have been destroyed completely. Arthur wondered about Gaius, of his connections to Merlin and to Balinor, and of his connection to the king. They appeared to greatly contradict themselves.
It seemed as though Gaius had quite the affiliation with magical creatures.
He crossed his arms and attempted to choose his next words cautiously, not wishing to offend Gaius in any way. "Do you use magic?"
Gaius paused his writing and looked up, gaze weary. Likely, he was considering his choices in how to respond, wondering if telling the truth was his best course of action. "I did," he said hesitantly, then proceeded to clarify, "I do."
"Thought so," Arthur replied quietly.
The older man's face became suspicious, though only slightly. "I imagine that you don't intend to inform Uther of this."
"Of course not. Though, I've come to wonder something," he said, speaking as carefully as he could. "My father banned sorcery, and you were there when that happened. You - you even became his Court Physician. Why did you not decide to leave?"
Gaius seemed to be thinking deeply about his answer and placed his pen down on the table. "Camelot is my home. It was my home. I was not prepared to give up my entire livelihood when your father outlawed magic," as he spoke, a certain level of hurt laid evident in his voice. "And...I was not prepared to give up my friendship with Uther, at the time. I was rather devoted as a young man. Perhaps blindly so."
It made no sense to Arthur, even through those justifications. "You are loyal to my father, yet he destroyed a people you belonged to," he said in a disbelieving tone, unable to understand.
The older man pursed his lips together and turned his head to the side. "My...recent history with Uther may have done away with whatever personal relationship we two had," he explained. "Even so, he is the king of Camelot, and I remain loyal to him."
"Then you are loyal out of obligation," accused Arthur. His face then shifted, something like nervousness overtaking it. "Is...is Merlin loyal to me out of obligation?"
"...There are many reasons for why Merlin is loyal to you, Sire," Gaius replied, attempting to reassure the former king in some way. "He does not just consider you a prince to serve, or a brave man to help shape into a king, but he also sees you as a dear friend, and even beyond that. Your destiny and his are connected. They always have been."
"Since the day we met," Arthur continued for him, remembering his friend's words.
Just before Gaius returned to his writing, he nodded. "Since the day you met."
"We are to depart for the tomb of Ashkanar as soon as my knights ready our supplies," the prince said, leaning one shoulder against the wall and facing the cell door.
Merlin nodded. He appeared entirely closed off from Arthur; arms crossed, turned away, eyes averted. He seemed absolutely dejected, though the prince couldn't pinpoint any one reason for it. "I am to depart soon, as well. Don't think your head start will stop me from arriving earlier than you," he said, though his flat tone didn't give the words the challenging bite they might have otherwise had.
He wanted to argue, he wanted to tell him not to go, but knew that he couldn't change the warlock's mind. Merlin was dead-set on breaking out of his prison and capturing that egg for himself, and Arthur could see why.
All things considered, especially his title as a Dragonlord, Merlin's actions made perfect sense, and it was hard to fight against them.
Still, he'd wanted more than anything else for Merlin not to go through with it. They'd only just been reunited with each other and Arthur wasn't ready to separate yet again; he had too many words he wanted to say, too many subjects to discuss and too many things to apologize to or thank Merlin for.
He had to come up with something to change the sorcerer's mind, or to at least make it so they didn't have to be apart from each other. There must have been some sort of other decision.
Arthur tried to wrap his brain around the situation entirely, to come up with some sort of out which could satisfy the both of them. He thought about waiting for Merlin to escape and joining him. Except, even if that were an option, physically speaking, his father would brand him a traitor and Merlin might begin to genuinely resent him for likely giving up the throne.
That couldn't happen.
Could he break Merlin out early and have him join the knights' trek without anyone noticing? That didn't seem a possibility, nor did it seem like something either of them would want to take the risk for. It had essentially the same repercussions as the last plan.
"You visit this boy rather often."
Three men walked down the stone stairs and Arthur turned around, coming face-to-face with his father. On either side of him were two of his personal guards. Arthur looked on impassively "He was my manservant, father. I was only informing him of the fact that I will be leaving soon, and for what purpose."
"Yes," Uther turned to look Merlin in the eyes, smiling humorously. "I'm sure the sorcerer will be devastated to know that the last of magic left in Camelot will be destroyed before the next day comes."
The prince wanted to glower at his father, wanted to tell him to stop, but knew that he couldn't. It was true. Merlin would be devastated if the egg was destroyed, even moreso than the king thought he'd be, and he looked to that in a hilarious light rather than a tragic one. Arthur wanted his manservant to go with him, but knew that he couldn't, and -
Wait.
That gave Arthur an idea.
"Father," Arthur said quickly and suddenly, having just come to his conclusion. "This - I believe that I've come up with a proposal for the perfect opportunity to prove my manservant's loyalty to your kingdom - and to you."
If he was careful and convincing enough about this, he could earn his father's approval, believing the rapidly formulated idea to be the best possible outcome.
At the very least, the king seemed interested, or willing to hear out his idea. "What do you propose?"
He hesitated before answering, still unsure if it would actually work out in his favor. But then, he had no other favorable choice. "I want Merlin with me and my men on our journey. If Merlin is truly faithful to you and to our kingdom, he will help us destroy the egg and rid Camelot of what magic remains in it. Should we succeed, I want his charges of sorcery dropped."
"I will not allow a sorcerer to walk freely among my son and my knights - "
Before his father could become too angry with him, Arthur cut him off with a short laugh. "Father, I assure you that if anything were to go awry, your knights and I would be more than able to defend ourselves against my manservant."
Evidently, devaluing Merlin's true strength turned out the right decision. Uther's face turned conflicted, then inquisitive. "...And if you fail to return to me with news of the egg's destruction?"
"In that case," doing his best not to look at Merlin, he stared intently at his father and gestured toward the cell. "You may do with him what you please and I give my word not to interfere."
It was a risky move, but one he was willing to make. He perhaps hadn't thought the entire plan through, but it seemed a better alternative to what would have happened if he'd done nothing. Arthur certainly preferred it over having to deal with Merlin leaving.
He watched Uther's expression, saw his internal struggle as he warred with himself on what the correct decision should be.
"Very well," the king finally said with a wave of his hand. He then turned to one of his guards. "Let the boy out. He will embark with my men as soon as possible."
Very well, he'd said. His father agreed to it.
After Uther gave the order and made his way back up the stairs, the prince let out a sigh of relief, not caring about the strange look he'd gotten from the man ordered to release Merlin. Arthur succeeded. He and Merlin could figure out and plan through everything else later, but because of his spontaneous idea, he made sure that they would be able to do so.
He knew that he needed to finish packing his things for the journey ahead, knew that they needed to give Borden as little of a time advantage as possible, so he made his way to the steps.
The sound of keys hitting each other and scraping against metal made Arthur turn his head. The guard his father had left was opening the cell door, just as he'd been told to do.
Arthur looked only once to Merlin's unreadable expression before leaving the dungeon.