A Marriage that Started a Legend

by IJustShowedUp

Follows canon but with my own arranged marriage spin on it. What happens when Hunith makes a mistake and is forced on the run with her infant son? What happens when Camelot knights find her twenty years later? What happens when Arthur learns he's betrothed to a peasant boy? Will Merlin be able to stand among royalty? Will these two different boys survive each other? Review!

79. Chapter 79

So, Merlin didn't actually pass out, as it would turn out. But it was a near thing, where Merlin had to shake himself back awake, tightening up his grip on the bars of the cell that kept a young girl imprisoned. "I'm…I'm sorry," Merlin choked out, forcing his eyes to stay open. His heart wrenching guilt at hearing Gwen 'thank him' for doing the bare minimum of showing up when she was only here because of how stupid he was, was a pretty good way to stay awake. Even if the muscles in his shoulders felt like they weighed a ton, and he wanted to drop his head against the bars of the cell and take a much needed nap.

Guinevere, a young handmaiden with a heart of gold who only wanted her truth to be seen in a kingdom that wanted to crush her kind of sweetness out of her, smiled sadly towards a young man who looked as if it was he himself stuck behind these bars, "It's not your fault." After the last month or two since Merlin had arrived, Gwen liked to think she actually knew him, probably better than the other servants spreading their lies and rumors for their little fifteen minutes of fame. Gwen didn't want to go to her death, and know that Merlin would carry a guilt for her tragedy for…well, it could not be for long. Merlin might be a friend, but he'll probably only be sad for a day or two at the most. She wouldn't dream of being seen as important enough to mourn for, not when Merlin had his own problems to deal with…

Merlin's vision was getting a bit blurry, since he was pretty sure he could see two Gwen's swimming about in his vision. It was enough to make him feel woozy, sick, but he focused his attention on Gwen's eyes. The two figures bouncing back and forth until they solicited in to one form. "…Gwen…" he choked out, throat feeling tight, hands looking quite tight around the knuckles from how hard he squeezed the bars of her cell. All of this swimming his eyes were doing was making him feel a bit less on the unexplainably exhausted side and maybe more nauseous. Like he was just a second or two from throwing up all over Gwen's dress, if he could even reach her. The chains encasing her entire hands kept her pretty close against the far wall. "I…" he tried again, with every bit of intention on telling her the truth.

Merlin couldn't go one more minute, not even one more second, without Gwen knowing the truth about her situation. He couldn't see her looking at him with pity, even though she was the one trapped in the damn cage, and act as if she felt sorry for 'him' seeing her like this. It was killing him, far more than whatever bout this sickness was that had hit him right in the middle of nowhere…sickness…a sudden and abrupt thought struck him through the recess of his muddled mind. Maybe he'd gotten the sickness, had he caught it? Was this what the people felt like just before they succumb into it? Was he seconds away from having his skin change colors, maybe his lips had started to pale already? Had the blue veins started their slow creeping up his neck already? Maybe he was going to drop dead right in front of Gwen right now, with his milky white eyes being the only thing left to stare into her soul with. Her screams left to haunt him right to the depths of the heavens as his soul left his body. Or to the pits of hell, depending on rather or not a sorcerer was 'actually' evil, no matter what a sorcerer used their powers for in life.

It would be the perfect penance for him, left to rot from the sickness after using a stupid, stupid, spell to get rid of it from Tom.

"It's alright." Gwen interrupted his roaring and frantically muddled thoughts, smiling with her gentle demeanor. One would think she hadn't just been sentenced to death, but the faded tear tracks down her cheeks betrayed all the anguish she was feeling at her life being lost so young. This wasn't right, Gwen should be mad at him. She should look at him with the anger he was sure was hidden away inside of her somewhere, nobody could be as sweet as Gwen was all the time. She had to have a bit of fight in her. At least enough for Merlin to do the right thing and save her before she was marched out to the flames, to suffer with those those who-like her-had been innocent before suffering the same fate she thought she was going to be. "Don't worry so much about me. I'm sure, being consort, you'll have much more important things happening soon anyway. So really, there's no point in wasting your energy crying over me."

That was enough to chase away the strange exhaustion…nope, never mind. Merlin found that he couldn't even move his fingers away from the bars he was holding onto, because things seemed to have gotten worse during the seconds that past. This sickness, nobody had reported being exhausted back when the people were still free to come to Gaius before the town had been cordoned off. At least not until they were nearly on their deathbeds. He was supposed to have a cough first, and that was something that developed into the blue discoloration of his skin. He wasn't supposed to feel exhausted like this until at least a good twenty four hours after the symptoms would start. He'd been paying attention, probably a lot more than people realized, and felt he did know a good bit about this disease. Or Merlin knew as much as Gaius did, having watched as patient after patient filtered in and out of the chambers, turning their noses up at him if they bothered to notice he was in the room at all. And this sudden exhaustion didn't track in what he knew…but Merlin was being what he always seemed to be nowadays. Selfish. Here he was worrying about himself, and whatever 'false sickness' he had, when Gwen's entire life was about to be erased from existence. It was a thought that brought Merlin's attention back to the dried tear tracks smudging Gwen and her face. He wanted to wipe them away and feel their dampness coming away on his skin. Tell her there was absolutely no reason for her to waste her energy crying when she wasn't going to die. Not when Merlin planned to stop her from ever seeing her own pyre.

Gwen seemed to notice his eyes landing onto her ruddy cheeks, because a tinge of red was showing up on her skin. She tried to lift both of her hands up, the way she was chained up meant she couldn't lift only one without being forced to lift the other as well, but aborted the motion when she realized the chain was to short to reach that high. "I mean…" Gwen stuttered, turning her head as if trying to hide her awful appearance. Her hair alone looked as if a bird had made a nest out of it. Didn't Gwen know that she didn't have to hide away from Merlin? He was surely not going to start making fun of her appearance. Personally, he thought she was holding it together so much better than he would be. But that just made him feel a heart stopping stab straight in his heart, because Gwen shouldn't 'have to be strong. She should allow herself to be weak in front of him, knowing that Merlin would be the last person to ever judged her for it. "Well I mean, I'm not saying that you were going to cry about me. I mean, we haven't known each other for that long, and I'm sure you have so much bigger matters you have to attend to, I am just happy you took the time to come and visit me. Obviously…you can't stay long…"

Gwen stopped rambling long enough to look down at her feet. It was as if she thought she should be 'grateful' that the consort was kind enough to come down here and spend all but five minutes with her considering how 'busy' his schedule apparently was. The guilt inside him that coated throughout every vein, every drop of blood, every cell of his skin, covered his heart completely and it was suddenly so much harder to breath. But that might have been because of how hot it suddenly seemed down here, hot enough that Merlin wanted to release some of his skin by undoing the blue neckerchief he wore. Anything for a brush of cold air to hit his perspiring skin. He had this feeling though, that it was only him that was hot. Because Gwen seemed to be shivering in her threadbare dress. Merlin shook his head to get his brain jump started again.

"Gwen, you aren't going to die." he managed to choke out through the heat trying in vain to overpower him. He could feel a sweat droplet as it worked it's way slowly down the base of his neck in an agonizing manner. Like any tiny bit of touch made his own sensitive skin want to scream in pain and defiance. This, he knew for sure now, was not the sickness. None of the symptoms-especially with how fast it had come on-seemed to match with what Merlin knew of the 'actual' sickness. His hands were literally shaking from their grip on the metal bare, but his hands felt like they had actually been melted to the iron bars, refusing his grip to slip from them. He swallowed back the vile return of the bile trying to come up, before he forced himself to speak again despite being a temptation to just let his sick loose, "I am not going to let you die. Not now, not today. That isn't going to happen."

It was the closest Merlin had gotten too being able to confess his sins to her, but it was also the only bit he could force out. Going into the details suddenly seemed to pain him so very much, but only because it involved talking so much more than he had been. He didn't think he could get more out if he wanted too, not if all he wanted in the world to do was press his sweating forehead harshly against the cold of the bars to get some kind of relief from what seemed to be a never ending heat invading his soul. Trying to burn him alive from inside out. And tying into the guilt shredding across his soul when Gwen looked at him with a sad resolve, as if she was already accepting that her death was imminent…Merlin was lucky he was still on his feet at all, but even that felt as if it was about to go, his knees shaking.

"Please," Gwen looked hesitant to speak up, and Merlin's eyes snarled on the way she was biting her lip. She looked like she was scared to say what she was thinking next, and Merlin felt his hands tighten around those bars he'd gripped onto so needlessly. "Just one thing-" she hesitated again and Merlin felt himself being drawn into her words. He didn't care if she said the most outrageous thing possible, he wanted to hear it. Like a dying man-which he felt as if he was-needed water to live, he needed to hear her words. After putting her through her through all of this, he 'needed' to hear it. "You don't have to but…" she trailed off her words without finishing, going back to biting on her lip self-consciously. And in the dim window light from the two inch opening at the top of her cell, her face caught onto the light where her tear tracks shimmered.

"Just tell me." Merlin interrupted her when it looked like she wasn't going to say anything else on the subject. He wished she would've started cursing him out, show him just a bit of the fire he knew she must have, so maybe he wouldn't feel this unending guilt. How could she look at him with those dewy eyes of hers, acting like he was her friend. Having a friend like him…who needed enemies when Merlin was just as capable at putting them onto the fire to roast.

Gwen finally lifted her head, her eyes starting to wet again as a glimmer of tears appeared in a blink, "…Remember me." she spoke. Her voice was barely above a whisper, sounding haunting in a strange way, echoing out in the chambers. Gwen had been down there for at least two or three hours by that point and she had a lot of time to think during that period. It was the one thing she feared the most. It was not the dying part, although she did fear what pain would come and what the hereafter was going to be like, but it wasn't the thing Gwen feared the worst.

No, having the time to reflect on her life and the things she knew, death wasn't what she feared. She feared being forgotten, being just onemore casualty-just one more of the many thousands who had died before her-because of Uther's war against magic. She didn't want to be one more young girl, the memories that she ever existed lost to time, while she would burn at the stake to satisfy the king's awfully greedy bloodlust against anything he would deem as 'different'. Gwen would never get to grow old, working her fingers to the bone till she wasn't able to work any longer. She also, would never be forced to sneak the leftover's from the king's parties under her skirts as to help the hungry children loitering by the gate to the lower town. She wouldn't have to help the tailor in the lower town anymore for her to be given the better cloth for next to nothing to mend her own clothing. She…she wouldn't, who was going to help Morgana with those awful nightmares of hers. Who would be the one to make sure her father stopped working long enough to eat a good lunch. Who…she was never going to get married, was she? To have a family of her own in some far off and distant future…she wouldn't die surrounded by the mysterious faces of grandchildren she would never have.

But even now, with all of those loses in that awful circulating loop in her head, she felt as if she was asking Merlin too much. And that wasn't right of her, not when she should be able to count herself lucky. Not many people would get Camelot's Consort to visit them in the dungeons…but, she supposed, that most people would only see Merlin as the Consort of Camelot. Instead of Merlin…her friend, the one she found so easy to talk to. The person who put Morris in his place and sent him on his way to protect her. Merlin…she hoped he would be okay without her there. Not that she thought Merlin couldn't do anything without her being there! Of course not! But…she still wished he ended up happier than she would be.

"…I'm a consort, damn it!" Merlin cursed with loud anger, kicking harshly at the bars to get some of his frustrations out. He wanted them to rattle and shake, to hear the sound like one would after throwing glass plates just so they could hear them crashing. But his energy was all but depleted, so the gate barely wobbled at all, his kicking far more feeble than Merlin would have liked. It just fueled the rage inside him, and a deep growl echoed from his throat as he glared, having to steady himself to stop from setting the offending gate on fire. Merlin lifted his head so that his gaze could rest on Gwen, gaze resolved and steady. "Gwen…" he sighed heavily. "You are going to probably be hearing things about me during the next few things. Awful, horrible things, I'm sure. But do know…I was only trying to help."

Merlin needed Gwen to know that. To know that he wasn't just some random sorcerer out there in the world, who was using magic out and about on the daily-or at least that he was not using it to hurt people. He was sure there would be all kinds of rumors and truly awful exaggerations of the truth spinning around the city after it was Merlin being walked onto the execution's stand. He was sure he would become the town's new 'boogeyman', a story about how a foreign man managed to get into the Royal family, using his magical 'wiles' to cast his trickery and his spells. Merlin had no doubt that by this time next week, the people were going to start something stupid like how he'd probably used magic in the first place to convince Arthur to marry him. As if it was him who orchestrated this whole marriage thing in the first place. Uther would probably try to run with it too, claim they'd all been deceived in order to save some face.

Gwen frowned, a crease forming in between her eyebrows, because she had no idea what Merlin was supposed to mean by that, "What are you talking about?" she asked him, while trying to weakly smile. Maybe Merlin was just trying to play some kind of joke on her. Sure, it would be awful timing considering what the situation was, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Maybe Merlin was trying to do the thing where he acted all serious to freak her out before coming out with something that is completely outlandish. Like when Merlin had tried to convince her he was psychic.

But Merlin was anything but joking, and Gwen realized that-her weak smile fading-when she saw the resolve in his eyes. Merlin bowed his head down to her, treating her like some kind of Lady or some other honored guest. Gwen actually felt her breath leaving her body when she saw this, nobody had ever shown respect like this to a simple handmaiden.

"Goodbye, Gwen." Merlin said, his eyes steely and unwavering. He figured there wasn't any point to telling Gwen the whole story. It would take far too long for him to get through it, the entire life story spilling out of him would have taken hours. He couldn't just go blurting out 'I'm a sorcerer and your in here only because of my stupidity' without giving her a bit more context. He couldn't stand to see her in that cage for one more second, he seemed to be more bothered by it than even Gwen was.

With one more lingering look at Gwen-Merlin figured he would never see her again after he left the dungeons, but he was content having the knowledge that she would be safe, safer without him being involved in her life-Merlin turned on his heel and started to stride away from her. Well, it was more like slouch away from her, because he was walking all bowed legged, trying to stand straight on his feet as he didn't have the bars to hold onto to keep him steady. His vision was starting to get the black dots in the corners of his eyes, and he was sure everything was turned sideways on purpose just to confuse him. Or maybe he'd found himself in a dizzy spell…his steps got slower and slower tell he felt like he wasn't picking up his foot at all, head slouching over like it was suddenly too heavy to hold…

"Merlin…Merlin!" Gwen shouted after him in worry, trying to approach the gate once again but forgot she'd been chained to the wall. At least until the short iron chain-iron being the one known substance in the world that could stop a sorcerer from using their magic, metal like iron left a sorcerer bound and helpless to their jailer, so it made sense that she'd been encased in the stuff. But it was nothing more than her hands being encased in chains, she would have gotten the same effect from any kind of metal-jolted her back against the wall she was attached to. And then Merlin left her sight, gone around the corner of cells so she couldn't see him anymore. "Merlin!" She was left calling after him one more time, but he'd never came back, leaving her alone.

Gwen's face crumbled as she turned her look to the ground. She didn't like the way Merlin had been speaking. The way he had talked to her…it had sounded like he was trying to tell her goodbye. And okay, maybe that had been literally what he had said. But there had been something different in his tone, something to be final. Maybe Merlin was just saying it since she was going to be on her way to her death in a very short amount of time, and that had been his way of saying he wouldn't be back to visit her. But something tingling around the back of her mind made her think something else was underfoot.

She hoped Merlin wouldn't do something that was reckless. Something that would end with Merlin being in the cell next to her, executed together as the friends departed from this life and entered the next world together. Consort or not….Gwen was sure that Merlin would get punished severely if he tried something. And Gwen wasn't worth that kind of trouble.

Unable to crane her neck to see where Merlin had already disappeared, Gwen turned back around as best as she could with this stupid chain getting in her way, the handmaiden got against the wall and slumped her way down until she was sitting on the cold floor. Even all of the hay scattered across the floor didn't do one thing to stop the involuntary shiver as it rolled up her spine.

It was dark down here, not even the light that came through the window was good enough for a light source. She had never been afraid of the dark before, there was no reason to be scared when she often walked home alone at night. The quiet has became her friend when it was peaceful, the streets empty instead of overcrowded. The darkness had been almost a companion as she thought over her day or mused over what she'd have to do during the next. But this wasn't peaceful. It was quiet in a way that was 'too' quiet. Where the one and only sound she could hear was her heartbeat trying to tell her to make a run for it…

It was hopelessness.

Gwen curled her legs up so that her knees were under her chin, and she wrapped her arms tightly around them. A single spot of light in a world much too cruel for somebody like her…

X

Most of the knights were stationed around the kingdom, or were off doing the important duties that needed to be done. Searching the grid of houses still left unchecked-although it had mostly died off since the serving girl had been caught. Or guarding the drawbridge to make sure no unruly peasants tried to cross the barrier, the sickness was still running wild down in those parts. Even if said guards were no longer allowed to point their crossbows at the unarmed peasants by order of the prince himself-although some guards said that had to be the influence of the consort. Marrying a peasant had clearly done something with the prince's mind.

But for some knights, the sickness running loose in the city hadn't changed their daily schedules at all. The normalities of their lives still needed to be taken care of, and not every knight could be running orders. Some guards still had to stay at their post, guarding things like the boarders. The entrances and exits of the city itself to make sure nobody left, so at least the sickness wouldn't spread to any of the other kingdom's. Camelot would've never recovered from the loss of their allies if word got out that Camelot was responsible.

There was also another set of guards-Bryon and Christian-who stood guard outside of the dungeons. Being that it was dead silent down there, except for the five minutes it took while other guards dragged Gwen down there, and they had to talk about 'something'. There was only so much they could mention the latest of the death toll's. The number had creeped up to seventy five lower town's people, and that was known due to the townspeople taking up charge and leaving their dead stacked out on their side of the drawbridge. So the two had resorted to talking about the kingdom's most favorite topic of discussion.

Merlin.

It was amazing how many rumors the two had heard while being stationed down in the 'basement' of the castle. Or even how many the two had managed to come up with their own, taking great pleasure in coming up with more and more outlandish things.

Things like:

Obviously, Merlin must have been some kind of damn good actor. Able to trick the mind of their prince, had done something to make the prince think he was desirable. And now, after the wedding was long over and done with, he was showing his true colors. Thinking he was untouchable as the prince's consort and was pushing to see how far he could go before he was put in his place by Arthur.

There was even talks about how Merlin had orchestrated the whole council meeting with Valiant on purpose. Before, people were just scoffing at Merlin's idiocy, the way he'd tried to make people think a knight would actually want him. It was bad enough he'd tricked the prince into marrying him, but the added fuel to the fire with Valiant. Nowadays, people had a more crueler twist to the tale. Obviously, it was Merlin who had flirted with Valiant, even invited him up to his room for some private time where they wouldn't be interrupted. But Valiant, only interested in killing Prince Arthur with his magic, hadn't taken the bait. And so that whole accusation of assault had been a jealous boy, who decided to ruin a man's life because his affections had been turned away from.

It was only coincidence that the same knight was working to try and kill Arthur. Instead of someone more respectable that people could get up in arms over Merlin trying to cheat his way through the knight's ranks.

And Christian and Bryon had much fun with laughing over Merlin being seen in town as he begged-begged!-for a job. The townspeople had already done their work for them, going around in whispers about how the Consort was truly to steal one of their jobs. Taking it from somebody who truly needed the work to feed their families. But it was the two of them that had started feeding into that rumor, the fun of watching it spread like wildfire before this whole 'sickness' business started.

Now, people thought the reason Merlin had been looking for a job was because he was a gold digger. Only, Arthur had figured this out and gave strict instructions to those guarding the Royal treasury that Merlin wasn't allowed to enter or take anything out. So Merlin's plan to get the gold of the Royal family within his grasp had been lost now that he couldn't go spending like crazy on whatever caught his fancy.

Anybody with half a brain would've taken the rumors with a grain of salt. But sometimes, it was just fun to run someone else's life, before sitting back to watch as it burst up into living flames. Which is exactly why neither Bryon or Christian lifted up a hand to help when Merlin came stumbling out of the doorway that led down to the cells. The two actually shared a smirk over his head, but Merlin didn't seem to notice they were even there. Crouched over at the waist and holding his stomach, holding onto the wall with the other to keep onto his balance.

"Can you believe him?" Bryon asked, nodding his head towards Merlin while not moving off the wall he was leaning against. "He needs to get his head on straight. Who does he think he's fooling, acting like some weak fool for a bit of sympathy. God, why doesn't Arthur just get rid of him?"

It would honestly be far too easy to get rid of Merlin right about now. The boy looked like a stiff wind would be enough to knock him flat on his back, creeping along the tunnel toward the stairs. Even if Merlin didn't make it, if the consort passed out cold on the floor in front of them, neither knight would've lifted up any hand to help. Lucky for him, neither of these knights cared much for the added cleanup it would take to get rid of Merlin for the prince.

"Our 'Consort'" Christian sneered as he lifted up a hand to pick at his nails with a disgusted expression. "Should just do us all a favor and drop dead on his own." At least then, Camelot would no longer deal with this entirely, huge embarrassment of 'him' being representation of their kingdom. Christian didn't care how he did it. Throwing himself off the highest tower of the castle, so the people would be able to see how weak-willed he was, because Merlin obviously couldn't hack it under the pressure of the court.

Obviously, Arthur was too embarrassed of his mistake to make it officially known by getting this whole thing annulled. Plus, Merlin would have walked away with a good portion of the kingdoms coffers in his belt. No, it was most obviously better to keep the loser there, if so the prince could keep an eye on him…things would still be so much easier if he would just drop dead.

X

Merlin dropped dead.

Or at least he felt like he was dead, he was almost crawling through the door at the top of the stairs, hearing the heavy door as it was slamming shut behind him. He collapsed, not able to stand on his feet anymore. His knees were the first to hit the ground, hard enough that he was sure he bruised up his kneecaps something fierce. And then he was falling but he couldn't have told you if he was falling on his face or out a ten story window, because of how achingly dizzy the world spun around him. Merlin somehow landed on his hands, as his fingernails grappled at the cobblestone of the floor, trying to find purpose as he had to keep reminding himself to breath through the wave of nausea.

He wasn't going to 'drop dead' like Christian had mocked him with-even if he did actually feel like he was about to. Or at least he was pretty sure that was what Christian said, but everything-more or less-was kind of lost in a haze. Maybe he had just hallucinated the two knights being there, which actually seemed a real possibility…breathe….Merlin sucked with all his strength to get some proper breathing going on. He didn't know what happened to him, he had just known he needed to get out of there.

The fresh air seemed to be doing him some good though, when his head finally stopped spinning long enough for him to reach out to grasp onto the wall beside him. Merlin hissed almost immediately, jerking his hand away off the wall, feeling as if he'd been stung. Or as if he'd been burned…Merlin had to blink several times for his vision to clear up before he was able to get a good look at his hand. There, a long strip of red was worked across the palm of his hand. Like a brand or a fiery burn. Even if it wasn't the worse burn he'd ever seen, the thing being there at all was rebought to freak Merlin out, his chest feeling tight. He hadn't burned himself. In fact, Merlin hadn't handled anything hot enough to burn for several days at least…

Fuck, it didn't look too bad. Nothing that was not going to heal in the next few days or so…but it was an odd occurrence none the least. It stood out starkly against his pale skin show casting it in all it's 'glory'. Just closing his fist made it sting like hell, but more manageable now that he knew it was there and expected the burn.

The burn…shit. He didn't have time to stop and marvel over the burn mark he didn't even know how he got. He could worry about that later, or…probably never considering he was going to be dead soon. He had someplace to be before it was more than his hand with the burn mark. Like officially stopping things long before it was Gwen who had her skin sizzling off her bones until there was nothing left.

Merlin wedged his foot underneath him to be able to push himself up off the ground, and almost immediately collapsed back against the wall. He brought a hand to his head, fuck, he had stood up too fast. And he still wasn't entirely better from the sick effects he'd been suffering from. It took him a few more steps-shaking and unsettled-before he was able to get his footing back to normal.

And none of this, Merlin thought while he was starting off at a slower pace but going faster and faster until he was nearly running as he ran off the ill effects, was actually getting into the worse of it. He had been so distracted by his own version of 'the sickness' that Merlin hadn't realized how…cold…and empty he had felt until now. Running down halls, bouncing around corners and growing faster with each and every step as his strength started a slow return to him, the emptiness that was inside of him had started ebbing away.

Because his magic was returning to him.

Or at least he could feel it now. The flickering light of pure energy coming and going inside his chest like a candlelight going in and out, as if it couldn't decide if it would be worth the energy it took to keep itself alive. But alive he knew it was. And that was all the reassurance he needed to keep running, hearing nothing more than the sound of his footfalls echoing in his eardrums.

Because a little ball of wiggling ever present light starting to work it's way throughout the rest of his body, was better than feeling not a thing at all. As if he'd been cut off from being able to access it….

X

There was nobody around to stop Merlin from making his way towards the heart of the castle. Just like the lower town had been as the disease started, the castle itself was now looking like a ghost town. Empty halls, empty rooms, knights guarding the boundaries they were assigned to instead of roaming around during patrol, servants sequestered away in their designated areas, like in the kitchens or the laundry room. As safe as everybody had wanted to pretend they were, hidden behind the wall and drinking water from the saved up reserves but there was no telling how much longer it would be before they ran out, there wasn't a one that wanted to be caught out in the halls. Lest they be the one to contract the sickness next, nobody was taking any kind of unnecessary risk.

Which would probably bother Merlin usually, because wasn't the whole point of cordoning off the lower town was so the 'upper crust' of society would feel safe. What was the point in torturing those people by abandoning them to their fate, if everybody would be hiding off in their little 'safe zones' anyway. But this was now and that was then. Merlin was lucky that nobody was wondering the halls to see him as he dashed through them, nearly knocking over the stray vase or table situated directly in the middle of the hall to make it look more 'decorative'.

It meant that Merlin could move even faster without having to worry about dodging away from projectile's in the form of human bodies getting in his way. He wouldn't be stopped by unruly guards grabbing him from the back by his shirt collar and demanding one hundred questions from him-for their own amusement as they saw him get more and more anxious to leave while trying to figure out how to get past them. There would be no servants who tried to drop their trays of leftover food, even their laundry baskets full of dirty clothing, to try and trip him up and slow him down.

It was just him and the empty halls, with the wind whipping through his hair and plastering his bangs across his forehead. At least, until he was just a hallway or two away from where Merlin knew the king was going to be. In his throne room, probably gloating about how he had the 'witch' down in his dungeons, how he could not wait to burn the flesh from her lithe bones and put an end to her 'curse.' Or even stop bragging about himself long enough for him to brag about Arthur. After all, was it not his son-stupid, arrogant blonde who thought he was god's gift to the city and that Merlin, as if, should worship him and follow his every word as if it was the gospel truth-who'd been the one to arrest Gwen. Who had ignored the holes Merlin had poked in his logic, to be able to keep his pride, after being proven 'wrong'.

Merlin got stopped before he made it to the right hallway, a familiarly annoying figure that jumped out of nowhere and stood in front of him, forcing Merlin to jolt to a halt before he could run him over. But after recognizing who it was, Merlin bit back an almost feral snarl as it tried to work it's way out of his throat in this low grumbly manner. Morris. Maybe it would have been better if Merlin kept going, easier and would make him feel better if he had ran straight over Morris instead of stopping short of it. God, to pummel Morris into the ground was an urge he could barely resist, fists going tight and rigid on either side of him, breathing harshly through his nose.

Because like 'Hell' was Merlin going to let this despicable excuse for a human being, get the drop on him and stop him from bursting into that room and declaring for the king 'exactly' what he was. And Morris could go…could go jump in the river! If he thought Merlin would waste his time by sitting here and listening to him ramble about how 'great' he was. About how he had been 'chosen' to be the personal manservant of Arthur's, so that made him out to be so much more 'special' that anybody.

Even the prince's 'chosen' consort.

"You can't go any further than here, you do know that, right? You should thank me so you aren't wasting your time." Morris said with his self-confident smirk. Apparently, the servant had decided to ignore the last encounter they had, where Merlin had asserted himself as a consort and ordered him away. Thinking that it was nothing more than a fluke, a stupid boy running on his own emotions-it wasn't good for a consort's emotion to be so open on his face, visiting nobles would pick him apart and take command on their own home turf-fueled by an overeager need to prove himself before the serving girl as competent. "The King has important discussions concerning that 'girl' you are so protective of. I'm not even allowed in there."

Merlin clenched his jaw tight, his hands were nearly shaking in his anger and desperation to do something. It would be just like Morris to think 'Personal Manservant of Camelot and His Prince' was somehow on the same level of 'Camelot's Consort and Husband to Said Prince of the Kingdom'. "How about you just let me worry about what I'm doing, and I will handle the guards stopping me." he snarled at Morris, being the aggressor as he reared himself close to his face. "And don't you Dare mention Gwen again to my face."

Merlin was nearly spitting fire at the point and he was acting completely irrational. His own anxiousness at what he was about to shout in front of the king, his own panic at feeling that magic brimming in his soul being cut off, his fear for Gwen and rather or not the King was actually going to let her go if Merlin showed him the real sorcerer, all of it mixing into this tight little ball in his chest compiled with this little bastard acting as if Merlin was the one bothering everybody else. Merlin felt as if the manservant should 'never' mention Gwen at all. She was too sweet, too good, too kind for this jackarse to even utter her name. And to think, all Gwen wanted on what she thought would be her deathbed, was for him to not go forgetting her. And then this little weasel just comes out of nowhere and tries to dishonor her with all of his crap.

Morris sniffed indignant, his hands clasped behind his back in a mocking professional bit of manner, "Of course you would defend her," he started, but Morris must have seen a bit of a wild streak brimming in Merlin's eyes, a kind that said he was about to beat the ever loving shit out of Morris-Merlin could so take on the manservant in a fistfight better than he could take on Arthur and his training-because said servant was quick to change his tune. Even a stupid overconfident boy like him seemed to smell blood in the water, and knew when he needed to quit while he was still ahead. "Are you really going to do this all over again?"

Merlin looked at him gruffly, eyes narrowed as he wondered rather or not he should start demanding to know what he meant, or if he should just dismiss this for nothing more than Morris' normal stupidity. But in the end, it was his curiosity that ran him, "Am I going to do 'what' again?" He demanded with this sharp tone of voice. The kind that would warn any man to tread lightly where he stood, lest the 'Consort' came out to play.

Morris must have been stupider than he once considered, because he didn't exactly take the warning as he should. The manservant lifted a smug eyebrow at Merlin, "Why, trying to ruin what little reputation you have when also destroying Arthur's. You should already know, after the last stunt you pulled in front of the council-if the guard's even bother with letting you in at all, that the people have very little confident in you being Consort. So you should just turn around and hide in your room now, I've heard Lady Morgana has returned to hers so maybe she can keep you a little bit of company while the Prince is far too busy to entertain you. I'm sure the King won't exactly appreciate Camelot's 'unwanted consort' just bursting in there. What do you think you are going to do anyone, other than humiliate the prince in front of our people for another time yet again?"

Merlin knew he shouldn't have bothered with stopping to hear whatever shit Morris would start spewing at him. He already knew Morris had nothing good to say, all of their previous encounters was a testament to that. But after walking in on him berating Gwen for doing her job proper, it had pretty much cemented it in stone. He didn't even know why he was still here, maybe he was just stalling for time because he knew this was probably the last time he'd fight with Morris. Not that he liked doing it, he hated the swamy bastard almost as much as Arthur-well, close enough since nobody could beat Arthur for being the most insensitive prat on the planet-but being close to death made even an encounter with some sworn enemy a rememberable event.

"I don't really care what your problem is with me, or my relationship with 'my' husband is like." Merlin snarled at the manservant, rolling his eyes so hard they almost felt as if they'd fall out of his head. The pain from doing that since he still wasn't fully recovered from his bout of sickness was nothing compared with the healing burn across the palm of his hands with the red stripe vivid against the paleness of his skin. He also spoke the 'my' in a harsh and possessive tone, telling Morris all he felt he needed to know in that one word alone. It wasn't his business. Whatever Merlin did with his relationship was 'sorely' up to himself and Arthur. Morris had no say in any of that. He'd burn Morris to the ground himself if he would think for one second that Merlin would allow him to get involved. And Merlin didn't give a damn rather or not he 'shamed' Arthur over what he was about to do. Just like Merlin had the last time he stood in front of the people during Valiant-he could still hear the way that Arthur yelled at him to 'get out' when he had followed him up to his room-but none of this was about Arthur. Arthur could be some kind of selfish bastard on his own time. It wasn't about Merlin either. And especially not about Morris. It was Gwen's. And if Arthur had only done his job right and found the 'real' person responsible-or if Merlin hadn't jumped in with his head first to help Gwen's family, then they wouldn't be here now. "Now, I will suggest for you to get out of my way. Because I am going in there."

Merlin wasn't explaining to Morris what it was he was hoping to do. Like a peasant trying to converse about an audience he was planning to get with the Royal family as soon as time permitted. No, not this time. This time, Merlin was telling Morris 'exactly' what he was going to do. Like a Consort who knew how to give commands and orders during tiring times of hardship a kingdom may suffer. And suffering they were. This was a worse time than Arthur being attacked at their own wedding. Also far more worse than Valiant worming his way into the king's good graces so he could get close enough to kill Arthur. And for the first time since Merlin had entered the city, the one being attacked wasn't his husband. It made this so much more personal than it ever had been before. Merlin didn't hesitate, ramming his shoulder into Morris' as he stormed on by him.

Was it childish? Yes. Was a consort supposed to act like that? No. But Merlin figured he had reached his quota on being the 'proper' kind of consort everybody wanted him to be. He had taken Tom's audience, even if he didn't act like a consort by getting on his knees and making promises nobody thought he would be able to keep. He hadn't rammed into that awful Markus, but did it really count that he'd dropped a tapestry on his head? Considering he deserved so much worse for laying hands on him…

"Well-" Morris interrupted him in a sing song kind of voice, causing Merlin to stop in mid-step, his spine stiffening without looking back at him. Merlin himself was already in a mood, and was gearing up for a fight. It looked as if Morris was wanting to give him one, or it may be that he just liked playing with fire, knowing not of the inferno Merlin could burst out with when pushed to his limits. "Obviously, I would not dare dream of stopping our 'Consort'" he curled his tongue around the word and Merlin involuntarily shivered in disgust. Morris made it sound dirty, as if he had just caught Merlin in a state of undress.

Merlin had always 'hated' the title of consort being bestowed upon him. He had hated the title the very first time he heard it connected to his name. Hated how everyone referred to him with it gleefully those first few weeks, as if he was more of a title than a person. Then that council meeting had happened, and the amazement over a peasant holding that kind of title had turned to scorn, sneering as they used the title with mocking. He 'loathed' it as the weeks of abuse-both physical and verbal kind-started to wane on him. But he hadn't known he could hate it more-the way it came off of Morris' slimy no good lips-than he did right now. Being 'Consort' wasn't some kind of good luck to him, a key that would open all kinds of doors that were previously closed to him. It wouldn't give him respect or honor or notice. Not the good kind, at any way. Being consort was nothing more than what seemed like a prison sentence. Merlin might not be in chains, forced down to those sickening cells to suffer right alongside Gwen. But he found himself still in a prison. A prison that Morris apparently wanted to be the gatekeeper too.

Morris continued to speak, his gaze trained fully on the back of Merlin's head, "-consort from doing what he wants. I'm just a simple manservant, insignificant compared to your Royal status-" oh, Morris was insignificant for sure, Merlin thought agitatedly, but it wasn't because he was a manservant. That would be like saying he hated Gwen just because she was a handmaiden. And Merlin would never be the one to hold something like this against somebody. After all, in another life, he might have been a servant. But…he did hold things against Morris simply because he was a prick to everybody. "But surely you must think to remember the guards. They aren't going to let you interrupt the king, he's dealing with a very important matter with the council, trying to decide what the best course of action will be for the witch. And I know you think you're something special, able to ignore any of the consequences the rest of us would have to deal with if we did things like you-" as if any servant could marry the prince and then go running amok throughout the city. From the simple things like trying to 'steal jobs' away from the lower town people. Or even bigger things like involving himself in the affairs of the council. "But the doors are sealed, and the king has ordered no interruptions. They aren't going to obey a consort over their own king."

Merlin's jaw went tight, a muscle somewhere in his jawline jumping to attention, because a smug attitude like that…how was it even any possibility for a serving boy-personal servant to the prince or not-become a special kind of cocky little shit. Merlin finally turned around to give Morris his best death stare, "Well, I do not have any intentions on them ignoring me either." He spoke sourly, lips curling up with a bit of disgust at himself for still being here. It meant that Gwen-the one person Merlin was trying to help here-was sitting in her cell for that much longer. Suffering. Wondering when they would come for her. Merlin lifted his chin up a little in defiance to Morris bickering with him, "But trust me, considering what I have to say, the guards won't be turning me away."

Nobody would be stupid enough to send him away, especially if Merlin had to come clean to the guards before he was allowed into the room to the king. And what luck did he have in his timing, the king was talking to the rest of the council? Nobody could deny what he'd said, nobody would go through with killing a false sorcerer when they could have the real deal instead. Merlin didn't care if he'd have to go proving it by using said magic to blast the doors apart. One way or the other, Merlin was getting himself into that damn room.

Morris shrugged with thus nonchalant look on his face, "Well, as 'fascinating' as I'm sure you think you are, I don't think you want to be the one wasting the king's time. I'm sure that nothing you said could be important enough for the king's attention. I mean, maybe Merlin, you should just get a clue already."

Merlin's eyes shadows in clarity, narrowing in tightened on Morris, his lips thinning sharply at this. "And what clue would that be?" Merlin demanded to know of him. If this was going to be some crack about how Merlin wasn't wanted, then Morris was going to be in for a bit of disappointment when he realized Merlin didn't care. He knew nobody wanted him to be around, but that didn't mean Merlin wasn't going to make himself known. He might never make a name for himself around here, a name that wasn't associated with 'unwanted', but at least he was going to go out in flames…yeah, that wasn't much better. But Merlin deserved it for what he did for Gwen. And just maybe, he deserved it as well for being born 'wrong.'

For being born a freak.

For being born a monster.

For being born during a time where things like him were burned for the amusement and safety of men.

Maybe in his next life, if he was lucky-which let's just be honest, Merlin hadn't been lucky since the day he was born, living in fear or in dishonesty or hiding what he was so people he didn't even know wouldn't try to hurt him or hunt him down-he'd be born in a time that was more understanding. More open to those like him.

Whatever the future held-his future-he was pretty sure there was some kind of mistake and Arthur 'wasn't' the one who would bring magic back to the world. Or maybe this was Merlin's destiny all along, to die like this, and somehow it would lead to the return…he was thinking about all of this 'far' too much when he hadn't even confessed his sins in front of the court yet.

"Obviously," Morris sneered at him with a roll of the eyes. This motion would've gotten him flogged if he had done it to the king or to the prince, bringing his hands up to rest onto his hips. "If they wanted to hear whatever you're bringing to the table, they would have invited you, made sure you were there. I mean Prince Arthur got a summons from King Uther's own servant, telling him he was needed before the meeting could commence. If the Prince felt like your presence was necessary, he would have sent me to go fetch you. But he didn't even bother to mention you before he went inside. Heck, did you even know there was a council meeting going on right now before I'd told you?"

Merlin gritted his teeth down, a steely metal showing in his eyes just like it had when that knight, Markus, had tried to talk down to him not that long ago. Morris clearly didn't have a 'clue' who he was dealing with. Merlin could feel his magic licking like fire straight through the insides of him, the fire coursing down to his fingertips, forcing him to clench them just that bit tighter so the sparks trying to bounce off them wouldn't be seen. The fiery course of a sudden surge of magic seemed to chase away any of the lingering effects he may have still felt from his earlier illness. Even those red stripes on his palm faded-still seen-but they looked more pink instead of vivid red. Almost like they had been healing over the course of a week instead of a few minutes…but none of this mattered. Merlin could barely hear a lick of anything over the roaring echoing inside of his ears.

Which made it difficult to hear the other crap that Morris was spewing out of his mouth, all he could see was Morris' lips flapping up and down as he acted like he knew anything that was going on in Merlin's life. As if he saw the truth and somehow thought this meant that he could go commenting on it. Words started to trickle through the roaring in his ears long before they faded out again, "…a consort that …not invited…council meeting…literally there is a national emergency going off outside of the doors…what use are you, really?"

Then there was silence, this extremely sweet utterly beautiful silence that Merlin couldn't take the time to revel in. Even the roaring that thumped through his ears like some kind of live wire had came to a startling stop. Merlin finally looked up to face Morris, "I'm not here to play games with you, Morris." the Consort spoke up, his voice tightening and it would be obviously to anybody that Merlin was having to restrain himself from starting something a guard would have to put a stop too, stopping Merlin from getting to the king. "Just tell me now, what exactly have I done to you? Since all you've done since we've met was get up in my face!"

The day they met, Merlin thought with this growl trying to work out of his throat, was the day before he married Arthur. All Merlin had done was nearly run into him on the stairs. A normal person would have panicked because Merlin nearly killed himself tottering right on the top of those stairs, about to go backward head first. But not Morris-he didn't just get a kick out of bullying Gwen, he got a kick out of trying to play 'big man of the castle' or what game he thought he was playing. Even if the manservant had a stupid crush or whatever it was on Arthur, if he was somehow jealous of Merlin-hating him from the moment Morris had started yelling at him about the 'possible' non-existent damage done to those wedding clothes of Arthur's he'd been carrying about that day-that was still no reason to take it out on him. Or anybody else! He might as well go demanding some proper answers before he was set to die. Maybe he could give Arthur a warning so he'd take care of it if Morris was more dangerous than he thought…the prince would probably dismiss him anyway, even if his husband was being marched out onto the pyre and had no reason to lie.

Morris blinked at him, once, twice, looking as if he genuinely didn't know what Merlin was going on about. But Merlin wasn't as stupid as people thought, he knew things wasn't all that right with that guy. "Hate you?" Morris crooned in a false tone of confusion, gritting on Merlin's already frayed nerves, "Oh, is that what you think this is? Merlin, I don't hate you at all. I'm just trying to protect you."

Merlin's brain came to a sudden halt at those words. And he was pretty sure he wanted to start laughing at how utterly stupid that was, or how stupid Morris must think he was? He wanted to…protect…him? The same man that had no problem with saying there was no use for Merlin. Those words had stung something on the inside of Merlin, before he was forced to harden up against it. "Protect me?" Merlin repeated, drawing this out with a sharp click of his tongue. "Protect me from what, do you mean?"

Protecting Merlin from all of the sneers he'd get as he walked through the town, all of the shopkeepers turning their nose up at him as if they smelled something foul. People being perfectly happy to turn away his good nature or hospitality when he engaged them, until he had money on him to spend, suddenly trying to shove their wares in his face while trying to 'helpfully explain' where he had gone wrong in making Arthur displeased with him. Maybe Morris thought he was protecting him from all of the knights-save for a 'very' small handful that he didn't see often to begin with-who'd took things too far and got physical with him or his belongings. Who laughed, calling him a klutz right after they tripped him. Who kicked whatever belongings he was holding across the hall as if they were doing some kind of pre-teen bullying bullshit. Shoving him into walls harder than his thin body could keep up with, high-fiving each other as they strode away congratulating the other as if they had done something grand. And Merlin would be left forcing his magic back from lashing out to take care of the problem for him. Stopping it from throwing people like that against the walls and asking them if they could take him on now…maybe he should have gotten in a few more hits whenever he tried to fight back since he was just gonna die anyway.

What the hell did Morris think he was going on about 'protecting him'. Merlin didn't need anybody's 'protection', he was just fine doing things on his own. So what if he got kicked around a little, unable to use his magic to go defending himself but unable to put up as much of a fight as he wanted against trained knights…

"Why, I'm trying to protect you from yourself, of course." Morris crooned, looking at him in a false sympathy kind of way. Merlin knew he had something inside of him that just died at that point…was this fool serious? If this hadn't been Morris talking, well…Merlin would pretty much have believed anybody but Morris. And especially since Morris was acting as if Merlin should be 'grateful' over whatever he thought he was doing. Morris continued talking, "You see, I was born in this city and grew up here, I have seen countless nobles coming or going from this kingdom. I was a servant since I had turned ten, and worked my way up through the ranks of servitude. And have secured my position in the prince's household for these last three years-" Merlin looked at him bored, not sure why Morris felt the need to droll on about his whole life's story. "And maybe you don't really know this, but servants don't get much notice. So I know quite well what goes on in the Royal Family, how things work. And let me tell you-" Morris leaned in closer, close enough that Merlin wrinkled his nose before leaning back, not liking the close proximity of the other man. Just what he wanted before he died, either a weirdo or a potentially quite dangerous guy-he never did get to find out the whole truth of what's going on with this manservant, and now probably never would get all the facts-to be all up on him. "I really think you're just too good for these people, I don't want you turning into them."

Merlin blinked once, and then twice, before settling his stare on Morris. Morris who was leaning back away from Merlin, smiling while looking pleased with himself. As if he thought for one second that Merlin would believe that all this shit Morris liked to start up with him as a jackarse was supposed to be some kind of countermeasure to prevent Merlin from being as spoiled or as self-centered as Arthur was himself. Morris had sounded prettily enough, his words genuine and wrapped up in a pretty bow of concern. If Merlin didn't figure he was going to die at some point today-taken by the flames for his misconceived sins against this kingdom, why did he be forced to come here just to live in a tortured hell for two months if he was just going to end up dead-then Merlin probably would have just walked away. Since he usually didn't like listening to Morris or to his simpering-although that simpering would usually be directed to Arthur and not towards himself.

"Is that right?" Merlin said with dry sarcasm, lifting a sardonic eyebrow towards the other boy. "You just wanna 'keep me in my place' or something like that? You've been helping me this whole time? And here I was, thinking you were just one more person who got a kick out of trying to mess with me."

Like that shopkeeper down in the town who-before he started looking for a job, claimed it was him who must have done something that upset Arthur at the dance, and the only way to make it up to him was to buy one of those wares in her shop. Like the baker man who'd started up the rumor about how Merlin was trying to steal the job from somebody who'd needed it more, not understanding that just because Merlin married into the money didn't mean he was accessing it. Like that old man who distracted him long enough for his son, the farmer, to go rattle to Arthur that he was trying to garden. Or like Knight Bryon, who'd shoved him into the wall just before the city had been overran by the sickness. Like that Knight, Christian, who said Merlin should go jump off a cliff and kill himself so that they'd be rid of him-Merlin was pretty sure that had been real and not just him hallucinating after being hit with that dizzy spell. Like the Knight Markus, who thought it was okay to actually put hands on him and shake him around, as if Merlin was having the time of his life instead of working as the people were dying out right in the middle of the streets. And Morris was obviously failing if he thought for one second that he was doing better than any of them.

"Oh, honey." Morris simpered in that irritating crooning voice of his. The top of Merlin's lip lifted up in a snarl at the sound of the sweet pet name, or mocking depending on how one looked at it. Merlin definitely considered it to be a mocking pet name. For one, Merlin was 'nobody's' honey, and Morris had no right to call him such. And two, that was the petname Merlin called Arthur whenever the prince was being 'particularly' difficult to be around that moment. It felt…wrong…like an itch buried on underneath his skin somewhere, to be talked to in the same manner. "Maybe I can be a bit overboard sometimes, but I really was trying to help you out."

Morris reached out, and Merlin stared down at the hand like it was something poisonous and vile, clammy and gross, as the other man put it down on his shoulder. Morris obviously tried his best to lead Merlin back down their hallway away from the throne room, because he was probably hoping Merlin would follow him and forget what he had been trying to do in the first place just so he could listen to the lies he was spewing. But Merlin didn't budge an inch, not allowing Morris to go distracting him from his original mission. Plus, he felt still pretty pissed off about being called 'honey', it wouldn't have gotten him to move even if he got paid to move.

Morris seemed to recognize this, because he grimaced in agitation, his hand tightening on Merlin's shoulder before letting go. Drat, the manservant thought annoyed. He was hoping to get Merlin away, maybe entertain the idea of throwing him down the stairs…a complete accident that couldn't be traced back to him. At least until he told Arthur all about how he'd saved him from Merlin trying to humiliate him by bursting through the door. Arthur would've been so grateful for getting rid of him for him that Morris could start up the next phase of a plan he was working on. God, if only it would be so easy. But even unwanted, there would have been some kind of investigation if Merlin were too suddenly die. And Morris couldn't risk being caught because he was impatient and couldn't flesh out the finer details to help evade his capture.

But Morris smiled anyway, even if it looked to be strained around the edges, before letting go of the other boy. He would just have to try to appeal to Merlin's good side, maybe just a bit of flattery and Morris would be able to run out the time instead. Arthur would should still show him a bit of gratefulness for stopping a interruption like that. "These people," Morris started up casually, waving his hand as if this was supposed to elude and help Merlin with understanding that he meant the nobility and 'blue blooded' people. "They aren't capable of understanding the common folk like you or I do. You are far too good to be wasting your life away by trying to please them, going out of your way to make yourself be something in their eyes. Because, no matter how hard you try, trust me when I say, they will 'never' see you as anything more than a commoner who is trying to play at nobility."

Merlin's lips thinned with sharp clarity as this bolt of lightning-noticeable to only himself so it was probably his own imagination-had shot straight up his spine. It was as if Morris knew how to play with every insecurity he has been dealing with since the day he walked into the city-okay, so maybe he 'really' should've left at this point, because all he seemed to have done was entertain Morris-and laid it right on out before him. Had Morris been keeping an eye on him this whole time, watching him by hiding in the shadows…no, he couldn't have been. Or Merlin would have been in cuffs by this point because 'surely' Morris would have seen his magic. But maybe he could still see more than Merlin wanted him too. Maybe he knew just how much Merlin had bent himself backwards in order to please these arrogant people-he had married Arthur to begin with, not putting up 'nearly' as much of a fight as he should have. He worked his fingers down to the bone learning under Gwen's tutoring on how a set of armor worked just so he was able to be apart of their traditions and 'bond' with Arthur or however the tradition had been meant to go originally. He'd even continued a tradition by giving Arthur a favor-and so okay, maybe that was more him wanting to change things and get this whole thing to work out. It had only caused him to lose his most favorite neckerchief. He hadn't even put a stop to the 'diction' lessons Morgana insisted on giving him whenever they used to have daily lunch together, but that was probably pure selfish on his part. He had been stuck in his room on those days and would've taken just about any little thing to get his brain moving.

And then he had said fuck that, and tried to get a bit more semblance of control over his own life. It was what had led to him finding a job-trying to find a job before he was kicked to the curb everywhere he went. Which had eventually developed into him leaving behind the castle and moving out as soon as he had realized he couldn't stand to look at Arthur's face anymore. He'd done pretty much every little thing he could that was the 'opposite' of what people thought a consort should do.

Maybe he should just reinvent the title, make the title of Consort something as completely different as it was now. Someone equal, who was strong, respected, whose opinion would matter…not someone locked in the castle and expected to play a supporting role to Arthur and whatever he did. Too bad he wouldn't get a chance to tell Arthur to 'shove it' one more time.

Merlin tilted his head to the side, looking at Morris with narrowed eyes, "You said I'm too good for them, for this kingdom?" Well, that wasn't too far off from how Merlin felt, but it wasn't because of the kingdom itself. It was that most of the people he knew around here were awful bullying people who liked to have their fun by picking on the weaker. Some kind of wolf-a being that only killed for food or for defense-was better than them. "So wouldn't that also mean I'm too good for Arthur?" The prince though, had a way of making him feel the exact opposite. As if his very presence is nothing more than an inconvenience or being a bother. Just the look on Arthur's face would be enough to tell Merlin how much the prince thought he was inadequate. Merlin shook his head, because even though this topic turned to the prince, Arthur wasn't actually the main reason for this conversation. This was about Morris thinking he had a say in anything that was going on with Merlin. So Merlin gave the manservant a sardonically raised eyebrow. "Or…maybe you think I'm not good enough."

Merlin detested the idea of anybody thinking Arthur was better than him. A slug, the kind of slug that was oozy and slimy everywhere they went, leaving a trail of disgust behind in their wake, would have been better than the prince could ever hope to be. But Merlin also figured he had hit right on the mark when he saw Morris' smile become a bit more fixated than it had been before-frozen-almost, with a twitching eye.

"I wouldn't have used those exact words." He spoke through gritted teeth. Morris seemed to drop his whole charade of caring for Merlin and his well-being though, if the glimmer that started in his eyes was any indication. There was something greedy and jealous about it, if Merlin wasn't already set out to die, then he might have been more concerned and make the time to look into it. But as it was, the dark haired sorcerer was on a bit of a time crunch.

So Merlin nodded his head, lips pressing so tightly together that they could have passed for pure white. "Is that so?" he asked, dryly, and wondering just how stupid Morris really thought he was. It was so 'obvious' what he wanted, content to bring this attitude up to Merlin's doorstep because he didn't have the thing he wanted in his grasp. "Let's pretend that's 'exactly' what you said-" which it had been, even if Morris hadn't been using those exact words. "And you just tell me who you think would be the better for as consort-" it would most like be dozens of people who'd knew what they were doing if they were the one in his position, but Merlin was sure that Morris had someone more specific in mind.

Morris didn't say anything, looking like he'd decided to give Merlin this silent treatment. Or maybe he knew what he wanted to say to the question wouldn't end favorably for him in the long run. But luckily, he didn't have to answer. Merlin already knew who he wanted it to be, and since when had Merlin ever gone and minced his words? He wasn't exactly one to hold back before, and he definitely wasn't going to go to his death doing that now.

"Maybe," Merlin started, giving Morris what was the 'side eye' to look for any expression that would give him away for Merlin to know he was dead right. "You think that Arthur's consort should be Clarissa?" Merlin's tongue twisted in displeasure around that name, the woman from the dance who Arthur had taken a proper favor from.

That purple sheer fabric that was deemed more appropriate and more fitting that Merlin's own scratchy red one. He supposed in a 'Royal view', it would definitely be seen as more appropriate, but switching a favor for someone you weren't married to. It was so backwards around here, the people probably thought it was okay just because his hadn't been 'pleasing enough' to the eye. But god, he wished he had the chance to go strangle Arthur with the red neckerchief. Merlin shook his head from that thought, he couldn't waste his time thinking of past regrets, or how he'd love to see Arthur turning a purple color after Merlin got through with him. Instead, he was focusing on Morris, looking for any reaction to the name, the name of the one Arthur was probably going to end up marrying, making her the 'New Consort and Princess' after he was gone. But there was nothing, Morris did not seem to care much for the woman. That was when Merlin decided to go in for the kill, the real name he had been toying with.

"Or maybe, you think yourself would be the better choice."

If Morris was anybody else-if he was Gwen-then maybe Merlin wouldn't mind so much, to pass on the mantle of consort to another. But he would never give it to Morris, if Merlin had any indication that Arthur actually 'wanted' to be with Morris, then he'd have plenty to say about that before he died. Things like 'open up your damn eyes' because Morris was odd and creepy. Disturbing in some ways. But not now. And that might be because Merlin knew he wouldn't have to deal with him for long in a few moments. He was strangely chill for a guy who knew he was about to be marching straight to his death. Merlin remembered how he had asked Morris earlier-back when he'd been fetching water from the pump for Gaius to test-why he had lied to him about having gone on a date with Arthur. He had accused the manservant of liking the prince-the whole attitude Morris had against him since the day they met made a whole lot more sense if that was the case-but Morris hadn't answered. He had just gave Merlin that disturbing look he'd get sometimes, as if he was there but wasn't there either…creepy. As if there was no life to him. Merlin had almost gone on the defensive thinking the guy was going to do something crazy…but then Morris had walked away with no other words spoken.

That finally got a reaction out of Morris, but not the scowling angry one that Merlin had been expecting. Because heaven forbid that a servant have actual romantic feelings for a noble, especially one that worked so close to the prince. "Well," Morris said, looking like a cat that just caught the canary. Because this was going good according to him, Merlin was wasting all of his council meeting time just by being here with him. He didn't even care that the boy thought-stupidly-that he had a crush on Arthur. It was quite a good cover story the consort had made for him, it would definitely explain away some of his more…exhausting…personality traits. Just one overzealous little boy after the affections of a prince, "I would not say no if Arthur deemed me worthy of his attentions. But that won't come to pass as for some ungodly reason I can't fathom, he has chosen to marry you-"

Morris snapped his mouth shut before he'd been able to continue that train of thought he had been going down. How everything would go his way once given a little time, especially since the prince didn't actually love the other boy so much that he would deny his heritage and his culture and his family just to be tied to him in holy matrimony. A man in love didn't discuss in confidence with his father that he had no choice but to 'fake his feelings' for his own husband. And Morris didn't want to give away such valuable information when he was able to keep it close to the chest, until he saw a proper moment for it.

Morris shook his head and continued to talk with a cocky sneer focused toward Merlin's direction, "Actually, I do believe even a dog could do a better job as consort than what you've been doing." And seeing that Merlin's mouth was opening up, probably to argue or some shit like that, he bulldozed over it and kept talking. "Or the dog could at least have been trained on how to not go embarrassing his master as throughly as you have. And for myself, well…I have been watching the prince and his work for years. So I'm fairly confident I would know more of what it takes to bare a Royal title than you yourself. I, at least, would know how to not humiliate him every time I've walked out my room."

It sounded almost like a job interview, Morris explaining to Merlin why he would have been the better candidate to hold the job title of consort. But consort wasn't a job title, Merlin clearly knew that better than Morris did. He's the one that's living with the title attached to his name, the one who was recognizable the second he was seen. Merlin would 'never' be the one to wish for another peasant to come in and take over in his place-especially when that peasant was Morris-the lifestyle coming between a peasant and a noble was far more different than he'd thought. Sure, maybe the peasant partner could shed some light over the treatment of those less than, but it was pointless if nobody was going to listen. How many times had Merlin made a comment to Arthur, or try to discuss things with him, only for the prince to ignore the problem. Because it was coming from him. Nothing in the world was going to change, because the people in charge didn't want it too.

Merlin nodded his head to Morris, simple and dismissive, he was done here. The only thing he had been doing here was stalling his own death, but as he had thought before, Gwen had been in her cell for long enough. "Well," the consort said as his final, goodbye parting to Morris. He decided to ignore the whole bit where Morris had called Arthur his 'master' a bit earlier, because that would just open one more can of worms that he didn't want to get into. Master? Merlin would rather 'be' the one strangled with his own neckerchief than ever be in a position where people thought Arthur bloody Pendragon was his master. "I'm sure you still won't get with Arthur unless he has a sudden change in sexuality, which definitely isn't something that happens. But at least, if everything goes right with what I'm about to do, you won't have to waste your time hating on me anymore. You can move on to the next 'bride-to-be.'"

Morris frowned, looking like he didn't have a clue what Merlin was talking about. But that was a good thing, Merlin didn't want him to be the one in the know. Not before he would be sure that his name would be on the lips of everybody. And not just because they were curing him for marrying their 'precious, loved prince'. He also didn't need to stand here any longer and here Morris giving him even more details on what a wreck he was as a consort he was. Like Merlin had said, it just wasn't all that feasible for a peasant to be thrown into this kind of lifestyle. Not without being slowly eased into it, taught things a consort needed to know, becoming friendly with the people if only to get acceptance, meet with the nobles and talk about things that 'actually' mattered. Not things concerning the latest gossip going around the city.

It would be…easier…this way. To let himself be taken away the guards, strung up without a single bit of fight to him. There would be no more listening to his shortcomings or about how awful he was-for things that didn't even concern him having magic-by these people who could never hope to understand. Arthur was a fan favorite at trying to make him feel less than himself, he would probably see the fire creeping up the wood of the pyre towards Merlin's feet as some sort of gift. And then go watching with gleeful anticipation as those in the court tried to wipe Merlin's very existence off the records, trying to act as if Merlin had never existed, as if the prince had never once been married. Merlin would just be one more person lost to time, forgotten about like the sands of an hourglass…

Merlin startled Morris when he turned away from his sharply on his heels. If he was a girl with long hair, it would have flung out before striking him across the face. "Arthur is going to be a widow soon. And maybe you can even petition to be allowed to be the one to throw the torch onto my pyre."

Then he left Morris behind, sputtering about in shock and confusion, having no idea what Merlin was talking about.

X

Merlin didn't run into anymore distractions to sidetrack him down the next two or three hall, which was a miracle in itself. It wouldn't have mattered if it did, Merlin was done with doing any waiting. He would have plowed on ahead, with steely determination and purpose within every stride of his body, ignoring any person who thought that now would be a good time to mess with him.

The throne doors came into view at first, the large ornate doors giving away exactly what was behind it: the king. There were two large bodied guards standing in front of the doors, with spears in hands, the butt of which was planted firmly on the ground with the sharp points angled with their heads. Just like the manservant had said would be, two guards who would refuse Merlin entrance into this private council meeting the king was having at the moment. Merlin figured he would have to blast his way in there for real, and show his 'King' what magic could really do by using his own knights as battering rams.

Luckily, Merlin realized as he came closer and could see exactly which two knights stood at the door, he wouldn't have to give a dramatic performance like that. The two guards looked to be Justin-that was a knight Merlin actually didn't outright dislike. He was kind enough to be sure, maybe on the strict side but he had never outright done anything to Merlin. Justin was actually the Knight that had to force the other knight-Charles, Merlin thought was his name-into letting Merlin go into the Knight's Quarters in the stadium. Way back when the prince-who-should-not-be-named had been fighting in the tourney, before anybody knew that Valiant was a creeper, murderous lunatic on the loose. And the other Knight standing at attention was Derrick, the first knight he'd met upon entering Camelot. And Derrick was probably one of the only Knight's Merlin had been able to 'stand' considering he seemed to be more laid back than anything else.

Merlin didn't stop walking until he was right in front of them, and he spoke in this loud and concise voice, trying to put behind his words as much 'order' as a consort would, "I would like to enter the Council Chambers." Although he felt like it didn't land quite the way he had been going for. His voice was too high-pitch, and both knights just looked at each other in a frowny manner before turning back to him, looking just as confused as before he spoke.

"…Consort Merlin." Justin said slowly, raising an eyebrow due to his sudden appearance in front of them. "I'm afraid that isn't something in the realm of possibilities. The doors have already been closed, and the King instructed for their to be no interruptions. I'm sure that the Prince will give you any information that he feels you need to know once he finishes and comes out."

Merlin didn't want any information on what was going on inside, he thought grudgingly as he glared at the door over their heads. He wanted to 'stop' any information from being passed around. The people might have it set in stone in their minds that Gwen was a witch who needed the pyre, but he'd make sure, by the time he was done, everyone would know what he had done. For Gwen's sake, he had to keep reminding himself whenever he felt his throat closing up. As if he was going to be shackled for the amusement of those people who were so much weaker than him. People he would never lift a spell against, because it would prove the point they had been trying to make on this pointless war against magic.

That sorcerer's-witches-spell casters-magic users-warlocks-whatever you wanted to call them, were dangerous. They would never be free then, if Merlin put that kind of message out there. But then again…they were probably never going to be free.

Merlin took a breath, that steely eye look was coming over his features. A look he had never worn before coming to Camelot, "I need to be let in so that I can see the king," he repeated in a steely voice that matched the look in his eyes. He wasn't trying to sound like he might guess a consort would sound like, not like he had been the first time. He was just stating a fact. But he sounded different, more sure of himself and what he was doing. "I have very important information that is crucial for King Uther to hear. It's about…the witch."

It disgusted Merlin to refer to Gwen like that, but it was probably something that would get him in. Or so he hoped so, because that was when the two knights looked at him frowning, not sure if letting him in would be worth the risk if the king disagreed with how important this information was. Then the two looked at each other-clearly trying to figure out what the other was thinking, before putting their heads together and started this whispering amongst themselves. It was just low enough that Merlin couldn't understand what the two were saying, and it made him anxious, and he started tapping his foot against the ground of the cobblestone walkway.

While they were doing that, Merlin's brain was already starting to run off in a million different directions. He didn't know if they would really let him in-and actually using his magic to blast the doors open seemed on the more extreme side-so he had to come up with an alternative way of getting inside. He supposed he could always just go in one of the many other entrances-like he had the one time Arthur and Uther had been having their important 'Knights dinner' with Valiant and all of the other champions-since surely the king didn't have guards posted at every little nook and cranny. It had been built that way incase the kingdom was ever attacked and then the castle got invaded. As an added safeguard so that the king would be able to escape instead of being trapped. The castle itself most likely had dozens and dozens of secret tunnels for escaping-or even for the servants to be able to get around the castle without being seen, because a 'good servant' was a servant who could go unseen-but Merlin hadn't been able to find any. And not for his lack of trying. The Consort shook his head to get rid of thoughts like that, he couldn't afford to get sidetracked by secret tunnels he'd never get a chance to explore.

The Knights might try to block him entrance but…the King would be grateful for what was about to happen. Uther would see this as the perfect opportunity to get rid of him with any minimum fussing. Then Arthur-the prince, he was sure, would be just as grateful for Merlin and his confession-could be married off with that Clarissa chick. Merlin was sure 'she' had enough to bring to the table. Hell, after they got stuck with Merlin, even her input would be welcomed instead of scorned.

The two knights seemed to have came to a conclusion, because their whispering came to an abrupt halt, the two straightening away from the other. "Are you sure that you want to do this, do you believe your information to be important enough for us to interrupt the king and the council?" Derrick spoke up, gentling his voice when he talked to Merlin. Almost as if he thought Merlin was a horse that needed to be calmed for fear it would buck off those against it. Like he was fragile and needed his hand held. Merlin found out why just barely a second later, "I mean, the council is having an important meeting on the disease. We cannot just interrupt them for nothing. And after your track record…considering the last time you've talked to the council…the history you that you got with this…do you really think this is your best course of action to take?"

Merlin supposed he should just be grateful he hadn't been turned away the second he'd shown up. If these two knights had been any other, Merlin wouldn't have just been turned away. He would have been mocked, ridiculed, even shown the door by being tossed threw it so that petty men could show 'dominance' by tormenting someone half their size. But, truth by told, Merlin wasn't grateful. He could feel an angry flush building up his neck because it was 'Derrick' who was stopping him. Derrick who'd always been nice the few times they'd met. It didn't even matter that Derrick maybe thought this was for Merlin's own good. That wasn't good enough for Merlin, hating to be treated as if he didn't know what was going on. Or treated like he wasn't smart enough to know the consequences-he knew that 'very' well now, and he had to learn it through pure experience since he was too hard headed to listen to reason from his uncle. The point was that…

"What I know can and will stop everything." the Consort of Camelot spoke out, his voice barely containing his rage at being detained for so long. First Morris, and now this…Merlin was willing to take the credit for Morris since he was the one that hadn't left when he had a chance. But he wasn't going to sit here, while acting like some fragile doll Arthur had tried to keep hidden away from the world because he wouldn't survive if he didn't. Something to be embarrassed about because yeah, Merlin was probably going to go in there and would no doubt humiliate himself again. But really, what was a little humiliation compared to his friend and her life. "It will be turning the tide on the king's war on magic…" or at least what war he was fighting with his son's less than desirable marriage partner. With the King and his hatred for Merlin, it really would stop what was going on inside. Probably enough to halt anything that had been deemed important to be discussed…because what Merlin would be saying would blow it right out of the water.

Justin and Derrick shared a dubious look and Merlin couldn't even blame them. It wasn't as if what Derrick had said was untrue, he really didn't have the best track record with going into these situations. But it wasn't like he was able to just ignore what he knew, and then go waving goodbye like an idiot while Gwen was being marched out to his pyre. He was able to admit that he had a cheeky nature, but this would have been going too far for him. Why should Gwen die because of what 'he' was or what 'he' had done…

Justin leaned over to whisper to Derrick but unlike last time, he was loud enough for him to hear what was being said, "This has been labeled as a private council meeting-" Merlin would learn later on that this private meeting was vastly different from a public one. Which the biggest difference was the most obvious, Merlin wouldn't be talking in front of different people who managed to filter in before those doors had shut. He would be talking in front of a handful of people personally chosen by the king himself to give advice and opinions on the specific matters at hand. But Merlin wasn't entirely sure which one would have to be worse: the people healing at what they'd assumed to be false claims, coming in so that they could 'observe' and critique what their new consort could do. Or the people literally chosen to point out all the flaws Merlin had in what he was saying…Justin continued talking about it, "So everyone is sworn to secrecy in the event that something 'does happen. So at least we'll know, nobody will be able to talk to anybody about what happened. Not without being thrown down in the cells after breaking the oath they took when they became council men."

That did make sense to Merlin. Considering the disease was a city wide panic, slashing down all who were unfortunate to cross right past it, the situation needed to be handled in a bit more caring manner. If they were talking about state secrets and such, protocols that helped in the past during times of crisis, the only options nobody wanted to discuss just in case things took a turn for the worse, nobody wanted to be the leak and cause yet another panic throughout the city. There would have been riots in the streets next, as the peasant people tried to raid other's homes once the food ran out since nobody was manning the shops. Plus, Merlin was sure nobody wanted word to get down to Gwen what final touches they were putting for her execution. An over-eager guard, pleased to deliver the news as a means of taunting her, could easily give away everything. And if Gwen was a real witch then that kind of information could have included something that could have led to her escape.

Merlin could see that the two knights weren't entirely sure still, which agitated him because Derrick had 'just' asked him if he was actually sure about this-and he had answered yes, he was sure! Did these two knights-the nice one that didn't want to kick his ass seven ways to Sunday-not know what 'turn the tide' meant? But then again…maybe Merlin needed to just make one thing clear…

Merlin turned to Derrick, making sure he was the one speaking before either knight had the chance to possibly deny him, "I am not going to let what happened to me then, stop what I have to say now." He spoke firmly. He didn't care if he was probably going to have to fight for this cause, fight for Gwen's life, fight just to have the right to be heard. He wouldn't be letting 'anybody' stop him, let along whatever bit of 'trauma' he might have lingering after what had happened the last time he'd stood in front of these people. Merlin shook aside those thoughts, because who cared about an incident that was still being widely discussed among everybody when Gwen was sitting in her darkened cell. Besides, Merlin thought a bit cynically, Merlin would be too dead by the time he was done to care about what stories were being spread about him this week. Who cared about the false lies and the false rumor and the like…Merlin didn't give a damn what the people would say about him as they were standing around his burnt carcass. "What I've got to say…what people will spread once I've finished…it will pale in comparison." And he enunciated his words very carefully, making sure to put as much sincerity into his words as he could.

As it would turn out, Merlin didn't really need to know what he was talking about. He didn't need to give some grand speech that would inspire confidence. That would inspire people to ride into a war for him, knowing that even if they died, it would all be okay because they were fighting in the name of his king. He just needed to sound confident in himself, to give people a reason to believe you could do it, to sound like you knew it all despite knowing not one thing of what was going to happen next.

Knight Derrick and Knight Justin seemed to at least look a bit more confident in this being his decision. He was Consort, after all. That probably didn't mean much to anybody-not even Merlin himself-but it meant something to them. Merlin was supposed to be in there anyway, being involved with the decisions of the kingdom as much as Arthur was. If only to observe and watch and prepare himself for the day it was him and Arthur making all the decisions after Uther had passed on.

The two nodded their heads and started reaching for the ornately gold handles on the grand doors, but Merlin could only see it in slow motion, as if the time itself had slowed down just for him. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't as scared as he should be, tried to tell himself that no, it wasn't his knees that were shaking and making a sound that was seemingly only audible to himself. But Merlin was about to go against all of his teaching, he was about to go against everything his own mother had taught him.

Protect yourself, had been the words she left him with. The words that had guided him and his actions in the back of his mind, reminding himself to do what he had to do to remain in hiding. Who knew that hiding in Camelot, this huge city, would be so different from hiding in a little village where everyone could wave off any oddities and say 'oh, there goes the boy and his mother. Don't mind them, they're both kind of odd.' But then again, everybody had their eyes on him here, at every given moment of the day. Just waiting for the next big screwup he was gonna give them.

Well…it looks like the next big screwup had finally arrived.

X

Inside the room, Arthur was standing behind his long backed chair, using it as a prop with his arms slung over it. He was watching his father who-just like Arthur-hadn't sat down since the meeting had started. Only, the King was pacing back and forth, asking the hard questions nobody knew but was something that needed to be addressed before any of them could go further.

"What of burning this witch doesn't stop the poison?" Uther was demanded, not looking at anybody since he had his head ducked down as he was striding back across the room to a chair-his chair, the biggest of them all herded at the head of the table-he wasn't going to sit in. His head wasn't ducked down in any sign of cowardliness, it was down as the king was focused in thought. Mentally going through all of the pro's and con's that could happen if they executed the witc-Gwen. Uther's latest grievance was not knowing the specifics of the spell Gwen had used to cause the sick as it spread openly through the lower time. The blonde prince had long since stopped trying to explain how he didn't think Gwen had been the one to cause the disease, she had only gotten desperate to save her father. The King was beyond all reason by this point. And that was why they were there now, for the king to ask for council and advise from His Chosen Men sitting around the table. Uther wanted to make sure killing Gwen wouldn't be having an adverse reaction to the spell, like making the magic act up and killing them all within days instead of the slow timeframe they seemed to be working under. "…How do I protect my people?"

Arthur couldn't blame his father, looking like he was falling apart in front of their eyes, but nobody dared to address it. Nobody wanted to make the mistake of saying something that may catch the king's attention, and not in the good way. The king seemed more interested in ranting and going over checklists inside of his head rather than listening to their words.

"My men have closed down the water pumps already." Arthur explained to him, having got a report from his men just the hour before to let him know it had been done. He'd ordered it as a countermeasure against the sickness, so that less and less people would be able to catch it. But truth be told, Merlin had actually been right, showing off a bit of the brain that Arthur had only caught glimpses of here and again. Back when Arthur, Uther, Merlin, and Gaius had been discussing what their options were while they watched a dead flower while it floated inside the contaminated water, the consort had argued for the peasant's. How it was them working underneath the blistering sun all day and the only thing they could get their hands on without paying for it was the water. Arthur didn't feel good about shutting off their source, but…what else was he to do considering these circumstances.

"But the emergency supply isn't going to last for long-" they only had about possibly three days of water left to supply the upper ring of the city. And that was only if they conserved and stretched it out for as long as possible as there was so many people taking their shelter in the castle. Unless they started banishing a few servants-more than a few-that wouldn't be nearly enough time to actually do anything about their crisis. "We have to find a way of cleaning the water from the disease itself."

Gaius was the one who had spoken, he been summoned down here to attend the meeting not all that long ago. And that was how he'd found himself here, sitting in a chair closer to the king's grand chair among the many taken around the table. Talking about the water and thinking of different tests he might be able to run to see what stuck with cleansing disease out of their drinking water. But considering it was a large body of water right underneath the city, he wasn't sure if they would be able to get rid of it for good. And there would be no way to test if it was gone completely, or if there was still some lingering. While he was musing over this, Gaius looked across where he sat so that he could watch the prince.

When Gaius had first arrived, the council had still been milling around, split off in their little groups and conversing about why they might have been summoned as they waited for the final few men to arrive. Arthur had came right to him during this moment of lull, before the King called the meeting to order, and asked him in confidence on rather or not Merlin was okay. It shouldn't have been so surprising, as the last time Arthur had seen the boy, Merlin looked as if he was having a freak out as he'd just seen Gwen being dragged away for her sentencing. Gaius had done the only thing he could do: he'd lied. He'd lied 'hard', before he told the prince what he wanted to hear. How Merlin was doing as good as could have been expected, and holed away inside of his room. But Gregory was still watching the door, and would alert them if Merlin tried to make a run to do anything. In reality, Gaius didn't exactly know how Merlin was doing because he had already taken off by that point, and he could only hope the boy wouldn't do anything that was drastic. But Gregory was still guarding an empty room, convinced that Merlin was being confined inside for the time being. Arthur had nodded, still looking conflicted as if he wasn't sure rather he wanted to stay and ask him a few more questions, or go and act as if he'd never asked at all. But then Uther had started to look over towards them, and Arthur made himself scarce until the meeting started.

Heaven forbid one asks a physician how their ailing husband was doing.

"And how are we to do that?" Uther asked, as he finally stopped his pacing after reaching his chair for the tenth time. Arthur glanced up at him, before leaning more heavily against his own chair propping him up. He knew that it was probably an inappropriate moment to do so-right in the middle of discussing such a huge crisis that could, quite possibly, wipe off their entire kingdom from the planet-but his thoughts were split. And not evenly. Try hard as he could, Arthur's thoughts kept returning to Merlin. He knew that Gaius had told him he was doing as well as can be expected, but he didn't know for sure what that meant? Merlin could be in that poor broom closet of a room he insisted on, laid out on his bed and crying his eyes out. The image of that very scene-conjured by his own imagination-didn't seem like it wanted to leave his mind any time soon.

The guilt pondered right at the edges of his subconscious mind. The tears leaking down Merlin's eyes, causing his eyelashes to clump together and dropping off his cheeks into the pillows…and that was all before Arthur'd even got the guts to tell him what his father's rule for Gwen's sentencing was going to be. The boy was probably one big mess, in some kind of state that Arthur couldn't just order him to get over it. Not even Arthur could say he was over what was happening, and Merlin was like a flower. Stupidly delicate and prone to those emotional outbursts of his…so he was almost sure Gaius wasn't sharing the full story with him.

"Well," Gaius started speaking, explaining to his father of the different types of test done to the water he could do, but Arthur was able to say in confidence that he hadn't heard any word of it. He should feel ashamed of himself for not paying attention-the work being done here is important, an all hands on deck kind of situation-but he doesn't. Not when he has yet to see Merlin for his own eyes, definitely not until Arthur can see with what 'he's doing as well as can be expected' means in Gaius' definition.

Maybe, Arthur mused over his head as Gaius rambled on in the background, he should go and visit Merlin after this meeting. Maybe him moving into Gaius' home wasn't a bad place for him to be, because Arthur had the perfect excuse right there: he was visiting the family physician to go over extra details on exactly what could be done about the water. A much easier excuse than going to any random hut in the village that Merlin decided to take his shelter in. Nobody needs know Merlin was no longer residing in the Royal suite, and he got free access to visit him whenever he wanted.

The only question remained…what was he to do once he got there. Obviously, Merlin was going to need some kind of comfort, but the prince wasn't exactly somebody made to do that kind of job. But he couldn't just ignore it if he walked in and found Merlin sprawled out and crying himself half to death. He would've had to do something. Like sitting on the edge of his bed, giving him false placates that it'll all be okay. And then…then what? Maybe rub at his hair…girls liked that being done to them when they were upset, didn't they? But, he wasn't a girl, so would it even have the same effect on Merlin? Well, pets liked to have their head scratched after a job well done, maybe he could do it if he got Merlin to start crying into his pillow…? And then he'd have to start all over again, because Merlin-delicate, heart on his sleeve Merlin-would start the working those tears again after Arthur told him what would happen to Gwen…

Every thought died in Arthur's mind, if he had been talking, his words would have died in his throat in an instant. Because the Grand Doors which were supposed to be sealed off, flung open. And Arthur barely had time to take in the figure bursting in, the doors closing right behind him just as fast, before there was the screaming.

"It was me!" Merlin screamed as loud as he could threw the filled room, gathering all the attention he could want from every corner of the room. His heart was in his throat under all of the harsh, startled, judgmental stares, but he didn't allow that to stop him. He had to be brave now. For Gwen. "It was me who used magic to cure Gwen's father!"

Good lord, Arthur thought as he stared with shock and horror at Merlin, what the hell was that moron doing!