Chapter 15
Duranbolt's smile dropped and he looked vaguely apologetic for some reason. The expression put Merlin and Morgana a bit on edge and they found themselves already dreading whatever the mage was going to say next.
"You will recall that I said Balinor gave his crown to his eldest sister Theanor," Duranbolt began.
Merlin and Morgana nodded.
Queen Theanor was killed by an assassin many years ago and, since she had no husband and no children, the crown passed to her closest remaining blood relative, Eleanor, Balinor's other remaining sister." Duranbolt stopped to take a deep breath, grief briefly clouding his features. "Last month, Queen Eleanor died in childbirth. Unfortunately, her daughter was born sickly and she did not last long without her mother."
"Your Aunts, Theanor and Eleanor were fine and gracious Queens and great friends to Gorlois and I." Viviana said. "Both ruled with strength and justice. Neither were shrinking violets."
Merlin smiled reservedly at Viviana's praise, but as he was still confused said, "I'm sorry for your loss, and sad my aunts have died, but what does that mean for us?" Merlin asked, not seeing how they could be at all helpful in this situation.
Duranbolt sighed again, obviously frustrated that Merlin was not seeing what he wanted him to see. "Merlin, both of the Queens, your aunts, died childless. Theanor never married and Eleanor's husband predeceased her by three months, killed in a nasty skirmish along the border to Mercia. Upon Eleanor's death, in lieu of any named successor, the crown would have been passed back to her brother, Balinor."
Merlin just stared, uncomprehending while Morgana's eyes grew wide instantly understanding where Duranbolt was going with this.
Duranbolt ran a hand through his hair in frustration at having to spell it out like this. "Viviana has informed us that you are Merlin, the son of Balinor Ambrosius who is our long lost prince. Merlin, you are the one true heir to the throne of Caledonia. We need you to be our king."
Merlin had been shocked before when he found out his father was supposed to be a king. Now, he was positively frightened at the prospect of being a King. He had watched Arthur struggle filling the title and responsibilities of King. Agravaine had complicated everything, given Arthur bad advice, brought war and destruction. Arthur had been devastated by his betrayal.
When Cenred had died, several warlords had tried and failed to bring order, each being assasinated within a week after taking the throne. Lot had finally taken over 4 years ago and the kingdom of Escetir was still struggling.
Merlin did not want to be in a position of power that engendered the paranoia and bad judgement Uther had displayed. Nor did he want to be the victim of bad advice. He had never wanted to rule. The prophecies had declared Arthur would be king and Merlin would be the protection and help behind the throne. That job had been hard enough to accept. He had done it supporting Arthur with his whole heart and soul until Viviana had appeared.
He liked where he was now. Morgana was free from the curse, on her way to redemption. They were honestly, madly, impetuously, passionately, and deeply in love, happily working together, focusing on what the Goddess had asked them to do. He was not sure how being a king would help him fulfill his assignment. He was anxious about his new heritage of royal blood, his title of king, and the responsibilities he knew would follow.
Sensing Merlin's discomfort and anxiety over the newly revealed facts, Morgana spoke up pointing her comment at Merlin, "Maybe the Goddess sent us here knowing you would have to be a king to garner the help of the people of Caledonia and your family to destroy the evil on the Isle of the Blessed."
"We have actually had some incidences where our citizenry have gone to the Isle of the Blessed and not returned, or come back with horrible stories of torture and death. This is actually why I am glad Viviana came to us when she did. We need you to help us defeat whatever is there and threatening our very way of life." Duranbolt said.
Viviana finally spoke. "You and Morgana have the power of the Goddess and her approval. Morgana is right in her assessment that the Goddess sent you both here to take the mantle of King and Queen here. It is the only way you will be able to achieve what the Goddess has sent you to do."
"Morgana smiled at her mother, thankful for her support. At this time, she realized Merlin needed her faith in him as Emrys, as a King, and she needed to remind him that no matter what, she would have his back. This was the way she could help Merlin to be Emrys, to be a King. Morgana sent waves of love, faith and comfort through their channel.
Merlin looked at her with gratitude. With that thought in mind, Merlin took a deep shuddering breath, and fortified himself holding tightly to Morgana's hand. He gritted his teeth against the fear. He was Emrys. He was the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist, he was immortal, an ambassador for the Goddess, and he would not hide away like a child. He would face his responsibility. He looked at Duranbolt, then Viviana, then Morgana communicating silently with her through their bond.
She sensed his commitment and nodded her consent to support and help him however, wherever and whenever, thrilled that she could offer comfort to the great Emrys at this time as it was usually the other way around.
Merlin straightened his back, squared his shoulder, and raised his chin, determined to be the man and king Morgana and his people deserved, He had a responsibility to the people of Caledonia, and he would be damned if he let them down now. He knew down to his toes becoming a King was part of his becoming Emrys.
"Have you reached your decision, Merlin?" Duranbolt asked, looking as though he would rather that he not have to ask at all.
"We will ride with you to Caledonia," Merlin confirmed with the sensation of tying a noose around his own neck. "We will accept this responsibility." Merlin said to Duranbolt and Viviana who beamed at the courage and commitment they saw in the young magical couple.
Duranbolt pulled a signet ring from his pocket. "This is yours." he said. "Guard it well.
The man's kindly face radiated concern and Merlin gave him a strained smile of reassurance, the most genuine he could manage in the circumstances as he looked briefly at the ring before putting it in his pocket.
Duranbolt's relief was palpable, though he tried to hide it in light of Merlin's distress. He squeezed Merlin's shoulder comfortingly and lightly patted Morgana's shoulder who seemed much more comfortable with the idea.
"Thank you, Merlin, Morgana. We will be honored to have you, my Lord, my Lady."
Merlin looked up, horror overtaking his features, and shook his head fervently. "Oh no," he said. "No. Don't start with the whole 'titles' thing, don't do it."
"If you're going to be king, Merlin, you're sort of going to have to get used to it," Morgana pointed out.
Merlin made a helpless noise in the back of his throat, wondering pathetically how this could get any worse.
"Just…leave off the titles until absolutely necessary, please," he groaned. "I don't think I could take it."
Duranbolt smiled at him again, his expression taking on a wistful edge.
"You really do take after your father," he said fondly. "He disliked honorifics as well. He felt like they removed him from his people."
Merlin's heart skipped a beat, swelling a bit at these words, at the confirmation of his father's character, and he locked the detail away with the scant others he had collected over the years. He nodded his gratitude to Duranbolt. The mage nodded back before getting up from his chair and leaving the room.
Merlin, suddenly feeling exhausted, rubbed at his forehead.
"What are we getting into Morgana?"
She grabbed his face and kissed him soundly. "As long as we are together..." she looked meaningfully into his eyes.
Merlin smiled at her weakly, glad he had such an intelligent, strong, compassionate, beautiful woman at his side to shoulder this responsibility with him.
"Time is passing, the council is anxious to meet you, as are the citizens of Caledonia. We must be on our way as there is much to do." Duranbolt opened the door and all of them exited to mount their horses and travel towards the castle.
"So all this time you've been royalty in denial as well?" Morgana said jokingly.
Merlin thought it best to be blunt. "I am going to be the King of Caledonia and you will be my Queen."
Morgana's eyebrow leapt reaching ambitiously for her hairline. She looked at Merlin for a moment, judging his sincerity, opened her mouth like she wanted to say something to that, paused, and then closed it again with an aborted shake of her head.
"I did not see this coming," she admitted blankly. "I know you have said before there will be no secrets between us and I realize now that you may not mention something simply because it is irrelevant now. But I am positive you kept secrets in Camelot just for self-preservation. How many secrets have you been keeping?"
"Far too many," Merlin murmured, returning his gaze to the road in front of them. He knew her question was born out of sincere concern and it warmed his heart. However he was sad to have kept so much of himself hidden when in the long run, so many had been hurt by his secrets, especially his wife.
Morgana picked up on Merlin's sudden despondency and laid a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Is that all?" she asked teasingly. "Or do you have a another wife and seven kids hidden away somewhere? An evil twin you're not telling us about? A tail maybe?"
The ridiculousness of Morgana's questions drew a soft chuckle from Merlin and he smiled gratefully up at his bride. She had a knack for breaking tension and for making people feel at ease even when they had no right to feel at ease
"No, certainly none of that. You know all of my big secrets now. I am sure there will be other...smaller things that will come up later. " he amended with a smile.
Morgana chuckled and sent a compassionate, nonjudgmental, loving smile in exchange that made his heart flutter. No matter how much he saw her everyday. Her beauty always took his breath away. "We have our entire lives to know each other completely. I am looking forward to the journey. As long as I am with you. Everything will be alright." she said.
"Truly, Merlin said, squeezing her hand. You make my life wonderful. I am looking forward to the journey as well. I can take anything as long as we are together."
"So…Royalty of Caledonia?" Morgana prompted, fishing for details as tactfully as she could, which was to say, not very.
Merlin nodded, having to swallow hard in order to choke back the bile that rose in his throat at the very thought.
"There is no turning back now." Morgana said, sounding considerably more surprised by this than any of the unbelievable things she had learned so far. "What about Gaius? Arthur? Gwen? the Knights? Mordred" It sounded like those weren't the things that Morgana was actually worried about, but for once she held her tongue. Merlin was grateful for that.
"Caledonia is teetering on the brink of civil war and a battle with evil. They need us right now. We can visit Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, Mordred and the knights in their dreams and explain the situation. Although maybe it would be better to tell them in person. The Goddess did say Arthur would help us in our quest at some point. I am sure they will all understand and approve us not returning to Camelot at this point and may consider joining us in the near future." Merlin said.
"I was wondering about Mordred." Morgana said. "I know you have considered him a threat in the past. But Ysira did say we could change his future when we reached Caledonia...and Mother did say he was one of her priorities."
"Yes his power and abilities could be very useful." Merlin commented.
"Viviana who had overheard their conversation spoke up. "I have been communicating with Arthur about Mordred. He, Gaius and Alice and the knights have been helping Mordred. They are keeping an eye out for any trouble. Right now everything is fine. But for his sake, we should bring him here as soon as possible."
Of course Morgana and Merlin were thrilled at the news for very different reasons, relieved and thankful Viviana was doing so much in the background to help them.
"There are some things you should keep in mind Merlin." Viviana said. "Your frosty attitude towards the young knight, has not been missed by anyone, including Mordred himself. I also know your distrust has been fostered by the dragon and the vision you received from the Vates.
Merlin shifted uncomfortably, painfully aware that the primary reason he wanted to bring Mordred to Caledonia was to remove him from Arthur's presence.
"Mordred could still turn against us if you decide to hold on to this distrust. I am thinking if we show this possible future to Mordred and he can see that it will result in his death. Then show him the vision of what we are trying to achieve, he will choose to help and be loyal because to be honest, the boy worships you Merlin, because he, more than anyone, can sense your power and is awed by it."
Merlin grimaced at her accurate perception of his feelings. His destiny to protect Arthur had been a priority till he had left Camelot to find Morgana. It would be difficult to abandon what he had considered immutable before his training with Morgana, Vadoma and the Druids. The mantra that always ran through his mind now any time a vision was related, was that these visions and prophecies were malleable. That was what he had to focus on to achieve what the Goddess and Viviana had laid out for him and Morgana.
Morgana put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly, and Merlin was surprised by how much comfort he drew from the simple gesture, from the offering of support, from a face he knew and loved.
"We have a ways to go," Duranbolt said, subdued.
Merlin and the others simply nodded. Merlin felt odd to be in the middle, knowing that those beside Morgana and himself where there to protect them from threats to their persons. He had never been important enough to warrant such a central position in a traveling party. He had always been on the fringes, his eyes and his magic roving the trees for signs of danger, ready to defend Arthur at all costs. This was certainly a change. However, he didn't protest the arrangement. He doubted there would be any point to it.
Duranbolt spurred his horse forward and led the way.
They rode without speaking for a long time, not really having anything to say to one another. Merlin felt drained, like he'd been wrung out and squeezed dry. The upheavals of the day didn't seem to have left any emotion behind for this one. He let the gait of his horse soothe him into thoughtlessness, driving out any troublesome musings that would try to take over his mind in lieu of conversation with the steady clopping of hooves, the bunch and release of strong muscles beneath him. It worked for a while and he relished in the temporary absence of strong emotion wreaking havoc on his thought processes.
They rode on through the morning, making steady progress as the sun continued to rise.
They stopped when it reached its zenith in order to rest and water the horses and eat some of the travel rations from their packs. Merlin and Morgana sat on the bank of the small stream by which they had dismounted, refilling their water skins and just looking at the forest around them. They had not encountered any hostile parties, nor any parties at all. It was all very peaceful here, the trees lush and green and the animals watching them curiously and without a hint of fear as they passed in close proximity.
Merlin and Morgana's magic was practically glowing under their skins.
"I said it before. This place ," he said without turning to his companions, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the strange sanctity he felt here. "It's so…alive."
"The magic of this land is healthy and content," Duranbolt said. "We are in harmony with the earth, and we honor her as she deserves to be honored. In turn, she welcomes us."
Merlin turned to look at him. "So that's what I'm feeling?" he asked. "The magic in the earth?"
Duranbolt nodded. "I imagine the land in kingdoms such as Camelot has had the magic leached from it," he said with a deep sadness, feeling true pain at the thought of such a fate. "Nature is not so forgiving there as it is here."
As if to illustrate his point, a small rabbit, his spotted brown fur making him nearly invisible in the undergrowth, hopped forth from his warren to sniff curiously at Merlin's boot and then Morgana's boot, only bounding away when the warlock and witch stood.
"How long until we reach Caledonia?" he asked, noting the placement of the sun in the sky overhead. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be.
"We have made good time so far," Duranbolt said. "We should reach the city in a few hours, maybe less than that."
The group remounted their horses and rode once more for Caledonia. Now that he was more aware of it, Merlin could feel the difference between this forest and the more familiar ones of Camelot as they traveled, the way their surroundings became more saturated with magic with every step they took toward the center of the kingdom. One glance at Morgana showed that she was feeling it too, an open sort of joy painted across her face. It was as if everything around them was vibrating, alive and somehow much more than itself.
It was more magic than Merlin had ever felt in one place, with the possible exception of the Forest of Ander. The Isle of the Blessed had magic but of course, all his journeys to the Isle of the Blessed had been tainted and overshadowed by the dark magic of the twisted High Priestesses that he had been fighting against at those times. This here was pure and balanced magic that called out to his own and made it sing in his veins. It was a beautiful feeling, intoxicating, making him feel a bit lightheaded if he focused on it for too long.
"Does everyone in Caledonia have magic?" Morgana asked. Merlin turned, interest piqued, in time to see Duranbolt shake his head.
"Magic may be a prominent part of our culture, but no, not all of our citizens possess magic of their own. Magical and secular peoples live side by side in Caledonia, co-existing peacefully," the mage said, unmistakable pride coloring his tone. "The kingdom was, however, founded with and by magic."
"How so?" Merlin asked curiously. "I realize that I know next to nothing about my own kingdom." He tried to think back over his time in Camelot, even back to his childhood, searching for any reference made to Caledonia, but he couldn't remember anything except the song Caledonia. Any other talk of Caledonia had never reached his ears. And now he found himself destined for the throne of a kingdom about which he knew only the barest of facts. He should know something, at least, by the time they got there. How could he rule a kingdom he did not understand?
"Caledonia is one of the oldest kingdoms in all of Albion, and the kingdom with the most peaceful history," Duranbolt explained. "It has been ruled by one family and one family alone since it was first founded—your family, Merlin. You come from an ancient line of Dragonlords, powerful sorcerers all of them, descended from the very first man to be gifted with the ability.
"And, of course, no one wants to incur the wrath of a dragon by rising up against his Lord, but that is not why your family's reign has always been such a peaceful one. The wisdom and foresight of the dragons has long been key in allowing your ancestors to rule justly and mercifully, and the people have always flourished under their sovereignty."
Merlin found himself smiling, growing warm at the thought. Pride bloomed deep in his heart for the great deeds of the forefathers he had never known he had, and the compassion they had displayed consistently for so many generations. His was a legacy of kindness and clemency, of peace and wisdom. He had never had a legacy before, something to live up to. It scared him a bit, knowing that the bar was set so high, but the warm feeling didn't fade even as the pressure to match them made his hands shake a bit.
"There have been few wars, and those only brief," Duranbolt continued. "For the most part, we have remained isolated. With the help of magic, Caledonia is almost entirely self-sufficient. Outside trade is a benefit, of course, but it is not strictly a necessity. We could close our borders completely at a moment's notice if the need arose and bear very little hardship because of it."
"And you have never been attacked by the kingdoms that view magic in all its forms as a threat? Merlin asked. It was hard to imagine that Uther had not ridden out immediately, in his grief and his paranoia with an army at his back to force the perceived evil from the land. An entire kingdom of sorcerers; surely he could not have turned a blind eye.
"Most were wise enough to stay their hand," Duranbolt said grimly, his expression hardening a bit. "Caledonia is a small kingdom, but it is a mighty one. Our army is formidable, though it does get little use outside of reinforcing our borders and keeping the peace internally. There have been…infiltrators, on occasion, but they have only been successful a scant handful of times. Those few who did move against us learned quickly not to do so again." Duranbolt's mouth tightened, his lips thinning as he pressed them together.
Merlin remembered what he had been told at the outpost, that his aunt Theanor had been assassinated. It seemed like the sort of thing Uther, or maybe someone like King Odin, would have ordered. He wondered bitterly if he would lose all his family to Uther's hatred of magic.
"And your forces," Morgana put in. "Are they solely mages, or do you employ secular knights as well?"
"We have those trained solely with weaponry as well as those learned in magic," Duranbolt told her, the tautness of his features giving way to an easy smile once more. "Even those who fight primarily with magic are required to be proficient with at least one secular weapon, though. There are a number of ways in which magic can be subdued, and it would not do for our sorcerers to be left defenseless in such a situation as that."
"I guess I'll have to work on my swordsmanship then," Merlin grumbled, not looking forward to the prospect.
"You know I will help you my love," Morgana smiled at the prospect of teaching Merlin, It was so nice to finally be on the giving end without all the hatred that had encumbered her before.
Merlin kissed her hand looking at her mischievously through his lashes. "I am looking forward to it.
Duranbolt chuckled. "As sovereign, it will not be required that you train the knights and mages yourself. Queen Eleanor did not, though she herself was quite handy with a sword and a crossbow, and so others are already in place to do so. Unless, of course, you wish to take over."
"Oh no, no, no," Merlin said quickly. "I can barely hold a sword the right way up. And I don't have much magical fighting training beyond what Morgana and I have figured out through trial and error, and a handful of spells from an old book I got when I was maybe seventeen. It wouldn't do to have me try to teach anyone anything."
Duranbolt, Viviana and Morgana laughed aloud at the vehemence of Merlin's denial before Morgana cleared her throat and added, "Merlin is very effective at subduing enemies. He just doesn't use a sword.
"Well we have the most learned and skilled masters in all the land, of magic and swordsmanship alike. If you would like to be taught rather than teach, then that can be arranged," he said with a smile. "I'm sure our High Priest would be thrilled to have a pupil so naturally gifted as you under his tutelage."
Merlin flushed in embarrassment, but he couldn't hide the thrill that went through him at the thought of actually studying magic, of being allowed to work and grow and test himself. While he and Morgana had been practicing and teaching each other on the transportation and suspension spells, and they had pushed the limits on certain things. He was excited to learn from these magical masters, push his boundaries and learn the extent of his abilities. Maybe now he would finally get that chance.
"At what age do you usually begin your training?" Morgana inquired.
"Most show signs of magic around age ten, if they are to show any at all, but instruction can be found for any age group should they need it," Duranbolt explained.
Merlin marveled at the man's patience, to be answering all their questions with such a tolerant air, but he seemed to be enjoying their enthusiasm.
"The military training is much like that of secular knights, with youths working as assistants to more experienced fighters and learning from their example, and then entering a more regimented training program at around thirteen years. The youngest one can be knighted, or dubbed a mage, is sixteen years of age.
"Do you train the knights and mages yourself?" Merlin asked. When Arthur was too busy with his kingly duties to train the knights himself as he would like, Leon, as his First Knight, would take on that responsibility in his stead. Duranbolt had introduced himself as the Foremost Mage of Caledonia, and he had already told them that the Queen had not overseen the training, so it would stand to reason that it would fall to him.
"I used to," Duranbolt said with a modest dip of his head, "but I passed on that mantle a few years ago; my magic is still as strong as ever but I am getting far too old to be beaten down with a sword every day. For the last few years my primary duty has been the protection of the queen."
"I presume you will be protecting me and Morgana as well, then?" Merlin asked wryly.
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at him. Merlin knew she could protect herself. But, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about people thinking that they needed to be protected. Lacking in formal training though, they may be, Merlin was still the most powerful warlock to ever exist, if the prophesies were to be believed. Now that he and Morgana were married, joined in everyway, she was as powerful as himself. Merlin had been doing the protecting for so long that he didn't think he knew how to do anything else.
"If you will have me," Duranbolt answered. "I would be glad to act in an advisory capacity as well, as I did with Eleanor for many years."
"Thanks for that. I think I will need all the advice I can get," Merlin muttered darkly.
"Duranbolt barked out another laugh, deep and full of true amusement. Even Morgana chuckled a bit.
"I think that you underestimate yourself, Merlin," his wife said. "You have been advising Arthur on matters of state for a long time now. He has always trusted your judgment. I trust you with my life as you have saved me in so many ways. You would do well to do the same."
Merlin shook his head, steadfastly ignoring the way she automatically relegated the statement to the past tense in his mind. Arthur had always trusted his judgment.
"That was different," he insisted. "Matters of morality and doing the right thing are where I feel comfortable taking a stand. But I know nothing of politics and royal courts."
"You know far more than you think you do," Morgana said surely. "You just need to have faith in yourself. I do."
Merlin sighed, but didn't bother to argue the point any further. Viviana had said much the same thing. They both seemed to think that he was perfectly capable of this, of ruling a kingdom. If only he could have that same confidence in himself. Instead, all he had was a crippling fear of failure and a pervasive feeling of total inferiority. Somehow, he didn't think those would be conducive to a good rule.
A shiver of magic running down his spine and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end distracted him from his introspection. He immediately jerked his head up to scan the surrounding area, seeing no immediate signs of danger but knowing better than to assume that meant they were safe. Despite what many of the knights of Camelot seemed to think, magic was not all smoke and flame and loud noises. It could be invisible and silent while still being dangerous, killing you before you ever saw it coming.
"Peace, Merlin, all is well," Duranbolt assured him, having noticed his sudden vigilance but looking unconcerned. Morgana too was looking wary, a bit doubtful of his words.
What was that?" Merlin asked suspiciously, all senses on high alert for the source of the magic he had felt.
"It was only the Perimeter," Duranbolt answered.
"The Perimeter?" Morgana questioned.
"It is a magical boundary that surrounds the main city of Caledonia, about an hour out from the walls in every direction. Those sorcerers whose spells fortify it are alerted to anyone passing through."
"So they know that we're coming?" Merlin asked with a sinking feeling; he didn't like the thought of showing up to find a crowd waiting for him.
"They know that someone is coming," Duranbolt corrected him. "The more powerful of them may be able to recognize me, since they know me well and are familiar with my magical signature, but you three are unknown entities to them, never having passed through the Perimeter before. Individuals and small groups that pass through are mostly ignored, as they are usually just travelers or hunting parties. Larger groups warrant more attention, as you can imagine."
"So we'll be reaching the city soon?" Morgana asked, unable to contain the excitement she felt at the prospect. Her eyes were wide and she clutched at the reins of her horse with a white knuckle grip, looking as though she might vault right out of her seat and run to Caledonia if that would get her there more quickly.
"Within the hour," Duranbolt confirmed.
Merlin's stomach was an uncomfortable knot of conflicted emotions vying for dominance. A part of him was as excited as Morgana was, thrilled beyond belief at the thought of experiencing freedom and acceptance the likes of which they had never even dreamed of before. Another part still shrunk back in fear at the daunting task they had been given and the very real consequences that would befall the people of Caledonia should they not prove to be worthy of the position they were to shoulder.
Another part of Merlin, deeper down beneath all the others, yearned to reach out, to learn of his own history, his ancestors, his father. He had spent years in his childhood trying to bury those feelings, that desire to know someone he would never be able to, but now it was all within his grasp and that desperate need for kinship, for understanding, came flooding back. Even if he had never been there before, hardly even heard of it, Caledonia was his; it was in his blood, and something in him seemed to know that, reaching out to the home of his forefathers.
The first thing he saw of Caledonia was the tip of a tower, with a long blue banner emblazoned with the crest of his family flapping in the light easterly wind. Merlin's hand found the signet ring he had left in his pocket, tracing the intricate patterns with the pad of his thumb but making no move to put it on, not yet at least.
The tower, he marveled as they drew nearer, was far more slender and delicate than it should have been for its impressive height. Its snowy white stone shone almost painfully bright against the blue of the cloudless sky at its back. More and more of the structure became visible over the line of trees, beautifully designed and masterfully built.
It had been constructed with magic, it had to have been. By all rights, the weight of the soaring towers and high walls should have been too much for the slim stones, far thinner than those of Camelot's castle, to support, but he could feel that this castle had stood proudly for many hundreds of years.
"It's beautiful," Morgana breathed in awe.
Merlin nodded his agreement, momentarily struck dumb at the crushing realization that this castle was his, his by right of birth. His father had grown up in this glorious structure, had run and played in its corridors, had attended meetings and feasts in its banquet halls, had been offered its throne and turned it down, and now it would all fall to him.
He wondered if Arthur felt this way upon seeing Camelot's castle, overwhelmed and humbled, hardly daring to believe that such a thing could possibly be meant for him. He thought that he understood now why Arthur second guessed his every decision, rethinking and over-thinking every choice that he was expected to make until he nearly drove himself mad with it. It was all to be sure, absolutely sure, that he did the best that he could by those living in the shadow of his castle.
And Merlin knew he would do the same. He was not worthy of this, this magnificent palace or the enormous weight of responsibility that it carried with it, of that he was sure. But if the responsibility would be his to bear anyway, then he would do his best to make himself so.
