And Vengeful Kings

Alongside Arthur, Merlin surveyed the cost of Morgana's vengeance, the utter devastation of the crops in the western fields, his heart full of sorrow for the reckless waste of their much-needed food. Grain fields in the valley hungrily consumed by fire offered no hope of a comfortable winter. Burned and rotted fruit lay at the trunks of fire-scarred orchard trees. Vegetable gardens were roasted to an inedible crispiness. The summer harvest that so many depended upon was burnt to ruin by a spiteful queen intent on starving the people into submission. Merlin strode into the field a few paces from Arthur. The acrid odor of decayed produce stung his nostrils. Brittle ash crackled under his boots, the empty sound echoing across the wasteland.

Picked over by scavengers, a few desperate foragers in the distance still hunted the razed fields and groves for edible morsels. Morgana's cruelty meant a hard winter to come for Camelot and its surrounding villages—he could not fail in restoring the harvest to full yield. Merlin grimaced, his throat as dry as the burnt earth around him.

The king crouched on his haunches, sifted through the remains of wheat with a gloved hand. "Are we doing the right thing?" he asked.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder to see a few burnt wheat heads crumbled in the king's glove, their scorched kernels falling through his fingers. A deep frown pulled at Arthur's lips. Merlin returned his gaze to the despoiled harvest as the king's lament continued.

"Are we not deceiving the people in order to serve our objectives?" Torn between wanting to restore the food source and feeling that his dishonesty was wrong, Arthur wiped the debris from his gloves. "We risking our honor by doing and could very well end up like the harvest."

"Deceiving the people, even for a good cause, feels wrong. But we're destined to do this." He'd already perfected the spelled needed to restore their food source. He just hoped the ends would justify the means.

"The news that the magic laws are changing has spread across the towns and there are as many opposed to this change as there are that's thankful for it. The kingdom is simmering with unrest. The council is divided and civil disorder won't be far behind if we aren't prepared to act fast."

"No one said it would be easy, Arthur." Merlin tugged at the collar of his new red tunic and flexed his shoulders against the stiff fabric, so unlike the comfort and ease of movement his old, worn-in clothes had given him. "We're destined to do this."

Looking up at him, Arthur's eyes squinted in the early morning sun. "You once told me that destinies were troublesome things." Merlin pulled his gaze from the devastated valley to gaze at him. "I believe you now."

Tirelessly bombarding him, Gaius and Geoffrey with countless questions these past four days, Arthur was thirsty for any information to understand magic, its cultures, rituals and history. What magical beasts exist? How many sorcerers live in Camelot? He poured over ancient tomes, soaking up the details of magical tradition and history. He scanned maps and reports, questioning his knights on defensive tactics and quizzing his advisors on rationing food supplies, preparing for the coming unrest like a commander leading his troops into battle.

Now the hour had arrived, and the weight of Arthur's decisions rested fully on the king. Merlin could see the burden in his friend's clear blue eyes, a weight he himself had once carried. He focused his gaze back on the wretched fields, torn between restoring the harvest and feeling deception was wrong.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." A weak reply, but it was all he could offer.

Arthur scooped up another handful of useless wheat heads and watched them crumble through his fingers again.

"And if what the dragon said is true, then we need Morgana."

"It seems that way."

Arthur stood then, tall and rigid, and pinned him with a hard stare. "I would rather die before allowing that witch to serve Albion."

Merlin jerked back as if struck, his forehead lining with worry. "Don't say that."

"You know what she's capable of. Gwen—"

"As long as Morgana is bound with Hades' Grip on her wrist, she's no threat."

"I won't let that woman near my wife again." Arthur cast cold, fierce eyes upon him. "If I ever see her again, I might run her through myself."

"You can't fight prophecy, Arthur," Merlin sighed, shaking his head. "The Triple Goddess has spoken. Listen to me, whenever I tried to prevent something from happening, my very actions unfolded the prophecy that I didn't want to come true. It was inevitable no matter what I did."

"What am I supposed to do, then?" Arthur brushed off his soiled gloves then rested a hand on Excalibur, his stare intense. "Answer me."

"There's nothing you can do but accept it."

"So, I pardon her? Forgive her?" Arthur had spoken over Merlin's reply, his voice ever rising to be heard. "Welcome her with open arms and wait for another knife in my back, or Gwen's?"

"No! Of course not."

"Why is she still alive, Merlin?" he snapped.

Arthur's repellent outburst hit Merlin as if the king had physically struck him, and he pulled back with a jolt, searching for words, searching his king's fiery blue eyes. Was his compassion completely drained for Morgana?

"I… understand your resistance, but it… it doesn't matter now, Arthur." Was it fear? "The fact is that she wasn't meant to die and is written into the future of Albion."

"I can see no use for her. She's a murderer and deserves the sword. There's no place for her here."

"I don't trust her, either, Arthur." Merlin had seen Morgana's brokenness the night before the executions, her utter despair as her long raven-black hair was shorn and dressed in nothing more than a thin cotton shift. She had moved him in that moment and yet he had stood in judgment of her the next day alongside Arthur, Gwen, and the rest of the kingdom. He had waited for her end to come. He was ashamed, disappointed at himself for being so wrong. "She must be worthy of something, so the gods say."

Arthur scoffed, heading toward the horses. "Maybe once, but not anymore, not for a long while."

Understanding Arthur's rage toward Morgana, Merlin was torn between his own hostility and compassion for her being fate's plaything. Ashamed for standing in judgment and waiting for her execution, he now knew she was meant to live.

He'd carted a wagon full of supplies for Morgana to the king's private lake yesterday, taking Elyan and Galahad with him upon Arthur's insistence. Galahad's wide eyes followed Kilgharrah's every move, his mouth hanging open in awe. He bobbed on his toes, peppering the dragon with endless questions in an excited voice. Elyan stood rigid, one hand fixed on his sword hilt. His gaze remained locked on the dragon, his eyes narrow and distrustful. Even when speaking to Merlin, he kept Kilgharrah in his peripheral vision at all times. When Merlin told the dragon that he didn't have the book, Kilgharrah gripped the cart with one clawed foot without any further words and went on his way.

"I'm going to see her," Merlin blurted out, knowing how sore the king was about Morgana, but it needed to be said. "Today—maybe."

The king stopped short, his shoulders tensing. Turning to face Merlin, a storm brewed behind his eyes again. "You know where she is?"

"No." Merlin swallowed as Arthur approached him, guilt choking his dry throat. "The dragon will take me to her."

Arthur's eyebrows rose into his hair, his lips tightened in a frown. "You've ridden the dragon?"

"When times were dire, yes."

"Why not?" Rolling his eyes, Arthur placed his hands on his hips. "Well? Why do you need to see her?"

"She, uh, she's requested something personal that I haven't been able to find. I was wondering if all of her possessions were destroyed."

Arthur's jaw tightened, his shoulders rigid. He spun on his heel, strode a few paces away, wheat crunching under his boots. He turned back with shoulders relaxed and eyes calm.

"There was something," he admitted. "I wanted so much to burn it with the rest of her things, but Gwen stopped me. She said that if Morgana kept it after all this time, it must be something to cherish."

Merlin closed the distance between them, his eyes wide and fists clenched as anticipation swelled in his chest. "What is it?"

"A book," Arthur said softly.