Chapter Four

The morning when Merlin rode out alone from Camelot was pleasantly warm. There was barely a wisp of cloud in the sky, a gentle breeze ruffled the hair at the back of his neck and sunlight bathed the land in a golden glow. Perfect travelling weather.

It felt good to be going home. Merlin had not been to visit his mother in Ealdor since the conflict with Kanen, and that had not exactly been a relaxing time he could spend reconnecting with his mother. They wrote to each other often, of course, but it wasn't the same. He missed her.

Merlin had come to realise, though, that there was no going back for him now, at least not permanently. When he had first set out from Ealdor he had considered travelling to the big city to be a once-off adventure, a bit of a learning curve mixed in with some sight-seeing. At the time he hadn't wanted to think of it as moving out of home and leaving Ealdor behind forever. But now he couldn't imagine returning to live in the little village and spending the rest of his days tilling earth and growing crops. His destiny was so much bigger than that.

And, he thought with a smile, their destiny had at last well and truly begun now that Arthur knew about and accepted his magic. Merlin could almost see Albion on the horizon.

He made the most of the daylight, travelling almost straight through except for a brief lunch break when he let the horse drink from the river and graze on the grass while he nibbled on the food Gaius had packed for him.

He met very few other people along the road, and when he finally made camp for the night a little ways off into the forest he felt fairly safe. He threw up a cautionary web of magic that would keep him hidden from the eyes of any bandits that might come this way, but he wasn't worried.

Merlin settled down into his bed roll and blew out a gentle sigh, allowing the sounds of nature's nightlife to lull him to sleep.

He had no sense of being watched. Nor did he hear the whisper of a cloak dragging lightly across fallen leaves.

His magic hummed just under his skin, but it was more concerned with repelling physical attacks, prepared to react if someone dared to touch him but not anticipating a more subtle approach.

A smirk curved her lips as she stared down at the foolish boy unknowingly curled up at her feet. She could hardly believe that he was the one who posed such a great threat to her, but she knew now not to underestimate him.

Her voice came out in a barely audible hiss. "Geswefian ne tobregdan ábúgan mín galdorléoð ádéadian…" As she spoke his breathing deepened and his body became limp. Once she was sure her spell had taken effect and that he would not be waking or moving any time soon, she reached down and carefully snicked a metal collar around his neck. As it closed the silver band, encircled with ancient runes and symbols of the Old Religion, glowed a bright blue. When the light faded, the seams and clasp had vanished and the metal sat snugly against his skin.

"Now you are powerless against me, Emrys," Morgana whispered gleefully to his unconscious form. "Finally, I will have my revenge and you shall trouble me no more."

She cast another spell to magically ensnare his ankle and strode regally from the clearing, allowing his body to drag along the ground in her wake.

By the early hours just before dawn they had reached the secluded hut in the woods that was Morgana's residence. She loathed to call it a home, because although she had lived there for over a year now she knew where she truly belonged was in Camelot's castle as queen and she refused to let her heart settle for anything less. Destroying Emrys was the first step towards achieving her dream, and she intended to take exquisite pleasure in the task.

She strung Merlin up to the chain that had served the same purpose not so long ago. This time, however, she used manacles that had been smelted by powerful High Priestesses of the Old Religion to restrain the magic of their prisoners. The collar should already have rendered Merlin incapable of accessing his powers, but she did not want to take any chances.

Once she was satisfied that her enemy would not be able to escape, she stepped back and released the spell.

Merlin groaned his way back to consciousness, eyelids flickering and arms tugging absently at their chains. After a few moments Morgana decided he was taking too long and slapped him full force across the face.

He gave a satisfying yelp of surprise, his body lurching uselessly backwards and his eyes flashing open. They widened when they saw her, then quickly darted around the room before returning to her face.

"Déjà vu," Merlin quipped, swiftly adopting a façade of being calm and in control. "Haven't we done this recently?"

Morgana had wondered in the past how Merlin, a mere manservant and a weakling at that, could appear so confident in the face of dangers that were surely beyond his ability to handle. It was clear to Morgana now that he must have been relying on his magic to protect him, but in this situation it could not come to his aid. He would soon know true fear.

"Indeed we have," Morgana replied. "But this time I will not be making the same mistake. You will not leave here alive."

Such threats, spoken in silky yet unmistakably powerful tones, had cowed many a man. Apparently not Merlin. He appeared almost bored. "Finally decided to kill me, have you? Took you long enough. Get on with it, then."

"Always so eager to die, Merlin. Unfortunately for you, I confess that your death alone would not be enough to satisfy me."

His jaw tightened slightly. "I don't care what you do to me."

She raised a delicate eyebrow. "No? I would have thought you would be a bit more worried about the terrible fate that will befall your dear King Arthur without you around."

Merlin snorted with amusement. "Death by stinky socks and unpolished boots. I can just see it now."

"I am not talking about your role as his servant," Morgana said irritably. "Servants are expendable, and easily replaceable. You, however…"

"Perform the vital task of keeping Arthur's ego from over-inflating by delivering the occasional witty insult," Merlin filled in, nodding. "Yes, you're right; he'd be lost without me."

Morgana's eyes narrowed. This was what Merlin did; he played the joker, the idiot, the fool, dancing around the truth to keep it hidden. But he could not lie to her any longer.

"Enough," she snapped. "I know who you are."

"I should hope so by now!" Merlin said. "We've known each other for quite a few years, after all."

Morgana tilted her head, examining the face of the boy who had once been her friend. Outwardly, he did not look any different. "No," she replied quietly. "I only thought I knew you. How wrong I was."

"What are you talking about?"

"Emrys," she hissed.

Surprise flashed in his eyes, but he quickly covered it with feigned confusion. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You are Emrys."

"No… I'm Merlin, remember? Arthur's manservant? Ring any bells?"

"I know who you have pretended to be, but at long last your true identity has been revealed. You are Emrys, powerful warlock, known to the Druids and spoken of in prophecy. You, Merlin, have magic."

Merlin laughed uncomfortably. "Wherever did you get that crazy idea?"

Morgana folded her arms. "I have my sources."

The humour faded from Merlin's expression and his eyes hardened. "Agravaine."

A corner of her lips twisted up. "Nothing gets by you, does it Merlin?" He had caught onto her duplicitous nature within days of her return to Camelot, and it seemed Merlin had realised that Agravaine, too, was a traitor. No matter, though; he had learned not to speak out with accusations against members of Arthur's family. Her pawn was not compromised. "It's a pity that Arthur doesn't trust you enough to listen to your warnings. You will both suffer for his stupidity."

"I won't let you hurt him."

She let out a lilting laugh. "What are you going to do about it? Fight me?"

"You know I can. And I will."

She spread her arms in invitation. "Go ahead. Do your worst."

"I don't want to hurt you Morgana."

She made a sound of disbelief, remembering all too clearly the way he had offered her the water skin, appearing so friendly and earnest. She had trusted him, and in return he had tried to kill her. "That line would be easier to fall for if you had not poisoned me."

His gaze did not waver, nor did the conviction in his voice. "I said I didn't want to. But I will if I have to. Let me go, or I promise you will regret it."

"Make me," Morgana challenged him. She waited expectantly, drawing on her year spend pretending to be Uther's loving ward to help her hide the smile of anticipation she felt tugging at her lips.

Merlin's face was sad. "You bring this upon yourself." He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes fluttered shut, and then they flashed open.

Nothing happened.

He frowned, his arm jerking unconsciously in an attempt to direct the spell. "Ablinn ðu; forlæte ðu nu!"

His knowledge of spells proved beyond doubt that he had magic, but there was no tell-tale flash of gold in his eyes. Morgana began to smile.

"Forþ fleoge!" Merlin started to panic. "Ic þé wiþdrífe! Hleap on bæc!" He gasped, chest heaving, reeking of frantic desperation as he cast spell after spell, all to no avail.

Morgana laughed at him, enjoying his helplessness. "Oh, my poor Merlin. Did you think after learning who you were I would not come prepared? Those manacles around your wrists are resistant to all forms of magic."

He glanced up at them, and promptly began violently jerking his arms in an attempt to break free. He succeeded in tearing open the thin skin around his wrists, but nothing more.

Morgana smirked. "Of course, the real power lies in your new neck accessory."

Naturally, Merlin tried to look down at it but the collar lay just out of his line of sight. After twisting and craning his neck for a few moments though, it became clear that he could feel it.

"Would you like to see it?" Morgana asked him sweetly, holding up a hand mirror. "I must say, it looks much better than those tattered neckerchiefs you always wear."

Merlin's gaze flitted across the reflection in the mirror, apparently reading the ancient text that none but a learned sorcerer could translate. With every word, hopelessness grew in his expression. He had to know that there was no escape. Once clasped around the victim's neck, the collar was designed not to come off unless the victim died or they were beheaded. Morgana did not intend for that to happen for a while yet.

"It's ironic, isn't it?" Morgana said. "Last time we were here, you would not fight me for fear of revealing your secret. And now that your secret has been revealed, you cannot fight me."

"What do you want from me?" Merlin asked tightly, his confidence finally shaken.

She stepped closer to him, a smile spreading across her lips. When she spoke, her tone was like syrup. "Why Merlin… isn't it obvious?" She leaned in so her face was scarcely an inch from his, and her voice turned icy. "I want revenge."

"Morgana-" he tried.

But she was done talking.

"Ic i ætege!" she snapped, slapping a hand against his chest as her eyes flared golden. The power shot through her and, close as she was, she saw in his eyes the exact moment when the bolt of pain struck him.

His shrieks were like sweet music to her ears.

ooOOoo

Arthur sank into a chair and exhaled a long, bone-weary sigh, bringing a hand up to feebly massage his aching temples. The day had come to an end at last and he was finally able to find some peace and quiet in the privacy of his chambers.

Or so he thought, but barely a few moments had passed before there was a knock on his door.

"Merlin," Arthur groaned automatically, until he remembered that his servant had left for Ealdor a few days ago. He groaned louder; he really didn't want to get up out of this chair. It was poor manners not to open the door for whoever currently stood behind it, but at this level of exhaustion he was not inclined to care. "Come!"

The door creaked open and Gaius popped his head in. "Am I disturbing you, sire?"

"No, it's alright." Arthur waved a hand to invite the physician in.

"I noticed during the council meetings today that you seemed to be developing a headache," Gaius said as he approached. "I brought you a tonic that should help."

Arthur offered a tired smile, and accepted the small vial of liquid. "Thank you, Gaius." He was usually reluctant to take painkillers, but the days had been dragging painfully and he knew that his workload and stress levels were not going to decrease any time soon. He needed his wits about him when dealing with stubborn Council members who were resistant to change; he couldn't afford to be taken ill.

"I thought it went a bit better today," Gaius offered as Arthur downed the foul-tasting substance.

Arthur grimaced, and not just at the taste. "Not much. They all think I'm insane. Sometimes I think I'm insane."

"You are doing the right thing, sire." Gaius sounded convinced, but Arthur was no longer so sure.

"Am I? My father introduced the laws against magic over 20 years ago, and barely a few months after his death I am eradicating his life's work. As everyone seems keen to remind me, my father would be furious if he knew what I was doing."

Gaius sat down opposite him and looked him in the eye. "Uther was a broken man," he said quietly. "The death of your mother was a devastating blow to his heart; one from which I fear he never fully recovered. His grief turned to anger against all forms of magic, but in truth it was one spell, one sorceress, who should have borne the blame for what happened. At that time there were indeed others who used their power for the wrong reasons, but there were also a great many innocent who were condemned to the flames during the Great Purge. Tell me, sire, and answer truthfully – do you believe such action was just?"

Arthur had been battling with this question for a few years now, and the truth was not easy to bear. He did not wish to face the idea that his father had been wrong. "It brought peace to Camelot."

"Perhaps, for a time. But it also brought fear and violence. Of all the times Camelot has faced a dire magical threat, how many were because someone desired revenge for the death of a loved one during the Purge or as a result of Uther's decree? How many were attempts to break free from persecution?"

"Most of them," Arthur admitted, thinking back. The laws against magic had brought them many enemies.

"Even Morgana," Gaius said cautiously. It was a sore topic for Arthur, but he allowed the physician to continue. "She was not born twisted and evil, sire. She discovered that she had magic, and for all that he professed to love her, Morgana feared what Uther would do to her when he found out. Her fear turned to desperation and her desperation turned to hate."

Arthur felt a deep pang of sorrow. He wanted to hate Morgana for all she had done, but a part of him understood the reasons for her actions even if he did not agree with them. She must have felt so lost and alone when she realised she would be hunted for the magic she had not chosen to have, and could probably only see one way out of her situation. Somewhere along the way, though, she had lost her morality. She had turned to murder and violence, and her desire for freedom had transformed into a thirst for power.

"Why didn't that happen to Merlin?" Arthur wondered out loud. "Surely he was afraid, too."

"Yes, sire, he was. But he chose to hope for a better future and to do everything within his power to see that future come to pass. The future he trusted you would someday bring."

He trusted you. Merlin could have wrested power for himself, but instead he had protected and supported Arthur, trusting that he would one day become the sort of King who could accept him for who he was. He might not have trusted Arthur with his secret, but he had trusted him with so much more.

"I guess I better see that it happens, then," Arthur said. "And that begins with these laws. It is not easy though."

Gaius smiled. "Nothing truly worth doing ever is, sire."

Arthur nodded at the truth of those words. His determination to see this matter through had been renewed, but not all his doubts had been quieted. "Do you think that anyone with magic will come out into the open once the new laws are announced to the public? Is there even anyone left who is not twisted by fear and hate?"

"More than you think, sire. But it is hard to say whether they will reveal themselves. Many may think it to be a trap. But Merlin has friends in the magical community, and so do I. They will trust us that it is safe to come out of hiding, and others will follow their lead when they see that no harm befell them."

"Camelot will become a very different kingdom," Arthur reflected, trying to imagine the magic they had feared and hated for so long freely roaming the streets of his city.

"Yes, sire," Gaius agreed. "A better kingdom, in the end; protected by the greatest warlock this world has ever known, and ruled by great king who is both fair and just."

Arthur smiled faintly. "Thank you, Gaius." He thought over the physician's words, a few of them in particular standing out. "Is Merlin really that powerful?"

"I've never met anyone like him, sire. I do not think even he knows the full extent of his power."

Arthur shook his head in wonder. "I had no idea. I never even suspected." Even now that he had witnessed Merlin using magic, Arthur still found it hard to believe. Although, he had known from the beginning that there was something unique about this peasant boy who would dare to call the prince of Camelot an ass to his face.

"I could take you apart with a single blow," Arthur had bragged. And Merlin's response?

"I could take you apart with less than that."

Who knew that Merlin had been telling the truth that day? And then he had entered Arthur's service, and he could no longer act as that cocky, confident, fearless boy for fear of his secret being found out. His personality had bled through the façade, though, some times more strongly than others, and the truer Merlin was to himself the more Arthur tended to appreciate his company.

He found himself looking forward to having the real Merlin around once he returned from Ealdor. No lies, no pretence, just Merlin.

"Tell me a story, Gaius?" Arthur asked.

Gaius quirked an eyebrow. "About Merlin?"

"Yes. Something good."

Gaius thought for a moment. "Well, the first time I met him Merlin saved my life with magic."

"Really?"

"Yes, sire…"

Arthur listened as Gaius described how he had fallen to what could have been his death if, within a split second, Merlin hadn't used magic to drag his bed across the room for him to land on safely. No wonder Gaius had not turned him in; that would have been a poor repayment when he owed Merlin his life.

Arthur would have been content to listen to Gaius' tales for the rest of the evening – getting to know this heroic side of his manservant – but just when Gaius was explaining how Arthur had really survived the bite of the Questing Beast, Sir Gwaine burst into the room.

"Arthur!"

Hearing the urgency in the knight's voice, Arthur leaped up from his seat despite his fatigue and his hand went to his sword. "What is it? Are we under attack?"

"No, but Merlin's missing!"

Arthur dropped back into his chair with a huff of annoyance. The small burst of energy had somehow left him feeling even more tired; he did not need this right now. "Merlin is on a holiday, Gwaine, remember? He is in Ealdor visiting his mother. That hardly counts as 'missing'."

Gwaine folded his arms. "If Merlin is in Ealdor, then why did his horse return without him? It just turned up at the gates to the city; no saddle, no bags, and no Merlin. Something must have happened to him!"

Arthur felt concern stirring, but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions. After all, he knew now that Merlin could take care of himself. "We don't know that for sure."

"But-"

"Tomorrow, at first light, you and Elyan can go look for him, okay? But if he is in Ealdor, make sure he knows the search party was your idea."

Gwaine looked inclined to argue; he would probably prefer to set out immediately, but following tracks would be virtually impossible at night and he knew it.

"I am sure Merlin is fine," Arthur tried to reassure the man, knowing that guilt was probably making Gwaine feel more overprotective than usual.

"I hope so."

Me too, Arthur agreed silently.

He remembered all too clearly the anguish that had ripped through him when that rock fall had separated him from Merlin, the heavy ache in his heart when he had returned to Camelot while Merlin's fate was unknown, his unwillingness to accept reports that Merlin was gone… Because Merlin couldn't be gone. Arthur couldn't imagine life without him, didn't know what he would do without him.

He is fine, Arthur repeated firmly to himself, but his conviction wavered. I should not have let him go alone.

No, Merlin was fine. And if he knew how much Arthur was fretting right now – not that he was fretting, because Arthur did not fret – he would laugh at him and call him a mother hen.

You had better be fine, Merlin, or I will go out and find your miserable hide and then have you thrown in the stocks for a week!

ooOOoo