CHAPTER 2

It is Samhain, but no one is celebrating. Arthur posits, and his council agrees, that anything other than a memorial service would feel in poor taste today. So he stands before his people, lined up and dressed in mourning black in the courtyard, and they light candles in memory of those they have lost to Morgana's invading army.

"Sire." Lancelot catches him after the service. He is dressed in gleaming chainmail and Camelot red, but a faint air of discomfort still hangs around him as it does all of the fresh knights; it will take time to get used to this new way of doing things. "May I have a word? In private?"

Arthur waves Merlin away - they have not spoken properly since Arthur said he would withhold his judgement on Merlin's magic, have not gotten time with yet more preparations, council meetings and continuing repairs on the castle - and he goes with Lancelot to his chambers.

"What's wrong, Lancelot?"

"It's not that something's wrong, exactly," Lancelot stammers, and Arthur wonders why he is so nervous. "It's just, I wondered if Merlin ever explained what actually happened? When the undead army were destroyed?"

Arthur frowns. No, Merlin hasn't explained what happened. Arthur picked up bits and pieces of the story, but there hadn't been a chance for any real debrief. All Arthur knew was that the Cup had been destroyed, and the undead army with it.

"He has a tendency not to take credit for things," Lancelot was talking again. "It was really he who saved us all. I wanted you to know that."

"Thank you, Lancelot." Arthur's words feel distant as he ushers the knight out of the room.

"Was it you who stopped the undead army?"

Merlin's head shoots up from where he has been scrubbing Arthur's floor. Arthur is at his desk, a tax report in front of him that he stopped reading about ten minutes ago.

"Uh... Sort of?" Merlin sits back, crossing his legs beneath him on the stone floor of Arthur's room. "Well, um, a friend told me that to defeat the undead soldiers we needed to destroy the Cup of Life. To do that, we needed a- a particular blade. One with magical properties."

Arthur assumes by 'friend' Merlin means Gaius.

"I knew where one was, because er... a different friend helped create it."

Arthur frowns. Just how many friends does Merlin have, who know about his magic? He has promised not to ask, so just listens as Merlin continues.

"When we snuck into the Palace, I used it to destroy the Cup."

"And is that all?" Arthur probes, because perhaps Merlin isn't lying, but the Prince has a sense that his manservant is very good at dodging the topics he doesn't want to talk about.

"No," Merlin admits. "Morgause was there. We fought-"

"With magic?"

"Well I'm not exactly talented with a sword."

Arthur remains unmoved and Merlin sighs.

"Yes, Arthur, with magic. I wounded her, quite badly I think, and destroyed the Cup. Then Morgana came in and saw Morgause. She started... screaming... with grief." Merlin pales when he remembers this. "That was when the castle started to shake and a few minutes later I found you and the knights."

"I see." There are two glaring holes in Merlin's story. "So Gaius and Lancelot know about your magic?"

Merlin shakes his head. "I told you-"

"Yes, alright." Arthur raises a hand to stop Merlin's protests. "Where is this sword now?"

"I er- I hid it," Merlin admits. "The night after we last, um... spoke like this."

"Why did you do that? Such a weapon could be valuable."

"It should only be wielded by you," Merlin says firmly. "And I didn't know if you'd want it given... well, you know. That it's uh..."

"Magic?"

Merlin smiles weakly. "I mean I can show you where it is if-"

"Why did you even have a sword like this in the first place?" Arthur cuts across him. "And what do you mean, only wielded by me?"

Merlin sighs and starts telling the true story of Tristan DuBois. When he's finished Arthur yearns to ask more questions, to try and discover the identity of whoever helped forge the magical sword, but it's late and tomorrow he must deliver a speech to his council. He dismisses Merlin for the night and dreams of magical swords and armour-clad wraiths.

The next time they speak, properly, it is Merlin who prompts the discussion.

"I think Gwen is unhappy." He is helping Arthur, already late for weapons practice, into his chainmail. "She doesn't really have a proper job now that she's not a lady's maid."

"Doesn't the steward have work for her?"

"Ye-es," Merlin's elongation of the word implies he might be edging on dishonesty with that answer. "But I think the steward is a bit uh... put out by her new position?"

Arthur stares blankly. "You've lost me."

Merlin huffs in frustration, handing Arthur his sword. "Gwen is your consort now, Arthur. Some of the other servants resent that. They'll resent it even more if she starts taking their work from them."

The intricacies of servant hierarchies elude Arthur, so he defers to Merlin. "What can be done?"

"I wondered, what if she were to take work as a nurse for your father?"

Arthur resists the urge to wince at mention of his father, who has shown no signs of improvement.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no that's um- that's fine." Arthur pulls on his boots. "Have it arranged Merlin, I'm already late."

The next time he visits Uther, Guinevere is there. She turns from the King's bedside and smiles at him, but they don't embrace. Uther might be ill, but there is no need to risk upsetting him further.

"I'll give you both some privacy." To Uther she says, "My lord," and bows, although he doesn't react.

Arthur snags her sleeve as they pass in the doorway. "Thank you for doing this. I know my father has caused you pain in the past."

Her eyes shine with compassion. "There's no need to thank me. He's important to you, Arthur, so he's important to me.

After what transpires to be another disappointing visit with his father, Arthur goes to the Physicians chambers. Merlin is busy mixing remedies.

"Can you spare him?" Arthur directs the question to Gaius, who agrees absent mindedly from where he is scrubbing at a stubborn stain on his worktable.

"Is everything alright?" Merlin asks, once in the privacy of Arthur's chambers. "Is this about my, er, you know?"

"Yes," Arthur answers bluntly. "Why didn't you let my father die?"

Merlin blinks. "What do you mean?"

"When he faced the Black Knight? After Morgause told me about my mother?" Arthur lists. "Whenever! You had enough opportunities! Why didn't you kill him? Why didn't you let me kill him?"

Merlin is confused. "He's your father. I could never have done that to you."

This simple answer leaves Arthur stunned for a few moments.

"Oh."

"There was another time," Merlin continues, when it becomes clear Arthur isn't going to. "I had a choice, to let Uther live or die and I... I considered letting him die. Then I spoke to Gwen about it. She didn't know what I was talking about, not really, but Uther had just executed her father. Yet she maintained that if she were in a position to kill Uther, she wouldn't. She said that if she did, she would be even worse than him. And she was right."

Arthur doesn't respond.

"Can I go back to Gaius now, or..?"

Arthur means to say yes, but instead ends up asking, "Was Morgause telling the truth when she conjured my mother?"

"I don't think it was really your mother who spoke to you," Merlin answers carefully. "That's powerful magic, it would need more than what we saw, and probably more than just one sorcerer to pull it off."

"And the rest?" Arthur insists, because he feels as if Merlin is evading something. "What my mother- what the illusion of my mother told me. Was that true?"

Merlin looks as if he doesn't want to say; but of course, he has promised Arthur. "Yes. It was true."

Arthur sinks heavily onto his bed. It feels as terrible as Morgana's betrayal. Worse, even.

"Grief can drive people to terrible things."

"Leave me," Arthur instructs dully and, uncharacteristically, Merlin does as he's told.