—Chp 6 —

Arthur readied himself for bed. The quest had been successful and Merlin was healing in both body and spirit. Gaius' ministrations had been performed with the utmost care and tenderness. Not unexpectedly, Arthur would have to make do with another servant until infection, fever and exhaustion cleared and the wounds healed. Finding a temporary servant wasn't a problem but it was more than he felt like dealing with tonight.

Yes, Merlin, I bloody well can dress myself, thank you.

He crossed to the wardrobe to deposit his belt, opened the door and found himself facing, of all things, a crossbow. Terror shot through him and he jerked back to the side violently, almost falling to the floor. When nothing happened, he noted that it wasn't set and contained no bolt. He followed its aim with his eyes and spotted a hole in the wood of his bedpost. So it had been tested.

He walked over and fingered the hole and caught sight of two discarded bolts just beneath the edge of the bed. A chill settled over him.

You must get dressed. Are you going to get dressed?

Merlin. His friend had been used and abused, tormented and badly hurt. He'd paid a terrible price for being Arthur's personal servant and friend. Arthur had failed utterly in his protection. And possibly would again unless he found the traitor.

He began pacing, all thoughts of sleep having fled. He'd looked into the doings and associations of the knights and every man who'd been in those council chambers and knew of the secret route they'd take.

It definitely wasn't Merlin and certainly not Gaius. Besides the proof of decades of unwavering, faithful service, the old man loved Merlin too much to ever allow him to be so used. But that only left one other possibility. One who had quickly assigned blame to his most loyal and trusted friends. One he'd been only too happy to pass over when ardently presented with the saccharine protestations that had been exactly what he'd wanted to hear.

Not again.

He's the last living family I have, aside from Morgana. Why would he? How could he? Every profession of love and loyalty for me, for my mother -his own sister!- a lie!

He wiped his eyes and clenched his fist.

The fomorroh hadn't been the only snake in the citadel.

He slammed his fist down, rattling the plates on the heavy oak table and called the guards.

—

Agravaine sipped at his cup, frowning a bit as he contemplated yesterday's visit. Morgana hadn't been as pleased as he'd hoped about his excellent performance that had diverted Arthur's attention and led him to now suspect Gaius. She required something more substantial to win her favor and he had a plan to acquire her a gift that could not but impress her with the breadth of his influence and cunning and the depths of his loyalty to her. He set aside his wine at the knock on his chamber door.

"Come!" he called. He expected it was the mapmaker's young apprentice answering his summons. He had a proposal to make that he was pretty sure the young man would find difficult to refuse. However, it wasn't the boy and he hastily arranged an expression of pleasant surprise at the sight of his nephew entering rather than the expected visitor.

"Arthur, Sire, good evening. What can I do for you?"

The silence spiraled strangely until Arthur finally broke it.

"Have you, by chance, mislaid your new black gloves, Uncle?"

"Why, yes, I believe I have," he replied, confused that this would warrant a late visit from the king. His confusion turned to alarm as several guards stepped into the room behind Arthur, whose eyes were now two chips of blue ice.

"Don't worry. I know where you left them."

—

Arthur watched Merlin breathe slowly and deeply. He looked a bit better regardless of the bruise on his forehead and the bandages around his neck and chest peeping out from under his sleep shirt. Gaius had assured him that the infection was retreating and the fever would follow. The headaches should subside after a few days as well. He adjusted the blanket that had begun to rumple into lumps then leaned back and closed his eyes. It was peaceful in Merlin's tiny room. He wanted to hold on to that peace but intrusive thoughts found him regardless.

Agravaine's trial was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. He'd demanded of the court that any information of Lord Agravaine's activities or communications be brought forth and he'd already been approached by several council members with tales of coercion and manipulation. He'd also received a very disturbing note that apparently the map maker's apprentice had been summoned to meet with him. The ramifications of such a request were not lost on him.

Oh he was tired. Body and soul. Heartsick. When would it end? Tears leaked silently from under his eyelashes. He had been left utterly deserted by his family, betrayed by the ones who should have cared and protected him most. He had never known the unconditional love and support of family and now he never would. The loneliness was devastating.

A hand touched his knee. He froze, ashamed of having been caught in an emotional moment. The hand was overly warm. He breathed and quickly squeezed his eyes tightly enough to force out the remaining tears, whisking them off with his fingers. He blinked his eyes open to meet Merlin's bleary blue ones. There was no amusement there.

"What's wrong, Arthur?"

So gently spoken that it almost summoned more tears. He swallowed and shook his head, needing a moment before he could reply. Merlin's brows knit and he pushed up to half sitting, leaning on his elbow. Arthur gently pressed him back down, mindful of causing any further pain.

"I found the traitor."

"Ah." Merlin's look was one of complete sympathy. "Agravaine?"

"You knew."

"No. I merely had my suspicions."

"I could tell you never liked him." He chuckled darkly. "What tipped you off, Merlin? What did you see that I didn't? Why am I always so completely taken by surprise!" His voice rose with each succeeding question.

"Arthur. Stop." The hot hand landed on his knee again.

"Gaius didn't seem surprised either," Arthur continued. "Why can everyone else see what must be fairly obvious while I remain in the dark? Some great king-" he sneered at himself.

"Look at me." He obeyed Merlin's tone reflexively. The man had never sounded so commanding.

Merlin struggled up to sit, leaning toward him, eyes earnest.

"It's not your fault. You look for the good, not the bad. You see the best in people, you look for it. You inspire it."

The king snorted. "Really."

Merlin frowned.

"Yes. But no matter how inspiring and noble you are, no matter how well you serve your people, there will always be those who desire evil over goodness, selfishness over the common good, darkness over light. People will always make their own choices. You can't blame yourself for that."

Arthur scrubbed his face with his hands, despairing. Yes, ..but …

"But why always my family? What's gone so wrong in my family? Who will be true if not family?"

"I will."

The response was prompt, firm and unyielding.

He couldn't help but look up to meet Merlin's eyes, true blue and unwavering.

"Always and forever, Arthur."

Such an open gaze, inviting Arthur to search the depths of his heart, challenging him to doubt it.

He couldn't.

Arthur extended his hand and Merlin clasped his forearm. After a moment the king leaned in and carefully wrapped his arms around him, feeling the fever's heat as his brother pressed him closer with one arm.

"Thank you," he whispered.

It was an embrace that neither of them ever spoke of again, being too sacred, too meaningful to become the root of another joke between them. It solidified their bond and warmed their hearts. Arthur knew that Merlin would always and forever be utterly faithful. And Merlin knew that he would only ever truly serve one master.

Epilogue

Where is he? She fumed, pacing back and forth in the limited space of the rotting hovel. The man was as slimy as they came but still had his uses although he apparently needed retraining. He'd taken the liberty of showing up unexpected and uninvited last time. Now he ignored her summons? How dare he! Her green eyes smoldered.

She grabbed her scrying bowl, prepared the spell and spoke the incantation.

Ah. No wonder. There he sat in a cell, looking pathetic, scared and alone. Ugh. Had he been blubbering? He must have tipped his hand and been discovered. She cursed him for the fool he was. He was no longer of any use to her. She left him to his fate.

The loss of her highly placed spy complicated things but she had one more pawn in play in the citadel. Merlin couldn't be used as a spy but when he accomplished the assassination, Camelot would easily fall into her hands. Perhaps he'd already accomplished the deed. If so, he would surely be facing a quicker death than the one she'd left him to. She grinned nastily and dearly hoped the pain from his infected wounds was penetrating his consciousness. She'd left the wounds untreated to allay suspicions if he were checked over. He'd been grievously wounded after all and Arthur knew it. If he'd gone home completely healed, they would've been tipped off that something more had gone on in his absence than simple capture and escape. Although the reasoning was sound, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she hadn't enjoyed leaving him in ever worsening pain.

She changed the scrying spell to seek him out. And there he was.. but.. what was this? He looked peaky and thin but clean, happy and relaxed, sitting in the palace gardens, picnicking with Gwen- and Arthur? -whom he wasn't trying to kill. Why wasn't he trying to kill him? Her rage built as she watched the brat accept a small cake from Gwen and make some sort of idiotic comment with merriment dancing in his eyes. Arthur fondly cuffed his shoulder in apparent good-natured retaliation.

Her eyes narrowed in calculation. Gaius! Gaius must have discovered the fohmorroh along the wounds she'd left to fester. She spat a curse. But wait! Gaius couldn't have permanently removed it. There was no way to kill it without- without..

She stood so suddenly that the table tipped, sending the scrying bowl and its enchanted contents splashing to the floor. She hurriedly pushed past her shelves until she found an empty place where the fohmorroh should have been. She gaped and then, enraged, swept the shelf with her arm sending all the bottles, books, containers and tools smashing to the ground in a mass of chaos. She screamed and continued to destroy her meager furnishings.

"How?" she shrieked. "How!"

She turned, breast heaving, and studied the door, thinking.

No one could have made it past her wards except Agravaine or that brat. But Merlin had been in no condition to remember where to go to find her and Agravaine was surely not that big of a fool to risk stealing from her. No. He would never. He feared her too much and he detested Arthur and Merlin almost half as much as she did. He had a vested interest in Arthur's successful assassination as well.

But someone had invaded her privacy, stolen from her and thwarted her plans. Someone who knew her plans. Someone whose magic was strong enough to rival hers, who could make it past her wards.

Someone who knew where she was.

She shivered suddenly, staring around at all the dark corners, the latched door, the shuttered window. She backed her way through the dim room, stumbling over the mess of possessions strewn across the floor until her legs hit the bed and she sat and scooted until her back hit the wall. She drew the blanket up to her chin, her knees tucked against her chest.

She tried unsuccessfully to calm her breathing, to listen better for any signs of movement outside in the forest. Trembling in fear and anger, she hissed the name.

"Emrys!"