Chapter 4: Beneath the Long Shadow of Death

Merlin scrambled to his feet as Arthur returned just before dark, followed by his inner circle of knights. Percival shut the door, and Merlin's former friends arranged themselves in a stiff line behind Arthur. None of them would meet Merlin's eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat, then tossed a dark cloak and Merlin's boots at him. "Get dressed," he ordered.

Merlin fumbled, dropping one of his boots and getting the cloak snarled around the short chain between the cuffs. He hissed as the cuffs shifted, stinging the frostbitten skin beneath them. "Don't know why you think I'll need a cloak," he muttered through clenched teeth as he sat and haltingly tugged on the first boot with chilled, sluggish fingers. "Not sure about the boots, either, to be honest."

Elyan frowned. "It's gotten quite cold since you've been…in here. It's not very far, but you'll definitely want them."

The route to the council chambers did not involve venturing outdoors, nor did the route to the throne room.

Not even a trial. Just straight to the pyre. Merlin's hands stilled of their own volition. "I thought…" he whispered, then dropped his gaze to his boot and resumed fighting with the buckles.

"Thought what?" Arthur asked. His face was still set like flint; Merlin couldn't help but wonder if the prince wanted to spark a fight.

I'm tired of fighting. The thought caught Merlin by surprise.

"Well?" Arthur pressed.

Merlin shook his head, still struggling with the first boot. "Doesn't matter."

Gwaine spoke up, tone guarded as he addressed Arthur. "What's wrong with his hands?"

Seriously? Merlin rolled his eyes and answered before Arthur could. "Chains do tend to get in the way."

"Not that," Gwaine clarified, finally deigning to acknowledge Merlin directly. "They're shaking."

Merlin glanced down. His fingers shivered, and frost dusted the metal boot buckles where he'd touched them. Oh. Oh no. He took a deep breath. "If I can't hold her off," he said, "do whatever it takes, alright?"

"No," Arthur cut in. "No, that's not an option."

"Why?" Merlin snapped. "Because you want me to know when you burn me?"

Arthur took a step back. "Of course not!" The stoic mask slipped from his features. "I wouldn't—"

Merlin's hands curled into involuntary fists. "Wouldn't you?" he asked. "I'm a sorcerer. That's what you do to people like me."

Silence flooded the room like an upended bucket of ice water. The frost spread upward along Merlin's fingers, fractal by fractal, painting delicate lace on the backs of his hands. As he haltingly finished buckling the first boot, he found himself wishing he hadn't passed up the chance last month to visit his mother; he hadn't known it would be his last. He reached for the second boot, and the buckles scraped across the floor as he yanked it over.

Like the thaw that follows the longest winter, Arthur cracked the icy silence. "Despite what you think," he said quietly, "I am not my father."

Merlin looked up to see tears in Arthur's eyes, and Merlin's cutting words from yesterday came back to him unbidden: 'I used to hope that one day you'd be a better king than Uther. I know better now.'

"I didn't mean it." The words slipped out before Merlin could stop them. "Yesterday. What I said."

The corner of Arthur's mouth turned up in a poor shadow of a smile. "Didn't you?"

"I've always believed in you."

"Then you've been lying to yourself as well." Arthur gestured loosely at the boots and cloak. "You thought we were taking you straight to the pyre, didn't you?"

Merlin's silence was confession enough.

Arthur nodded to himself. "Glad we cleared that up," he said flatly, rubbing his temples. "Now finish getting dressed—and quickly. We need to leave at sundown."

"Where are we going?"

Arthur's jaw tightened as he held Merlin's gaze. "You tell me."

Oh. Merlin's hands stilled as he blinked up at Arthur. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Arthur huffed. "West-southwest, was it?"

Merlin nodded and swallowed thickly. "Arthur, I—"

Leon interrupted him, casting a worried glance at Arthur. "It's almost dark, my lord."

Arthur nodded stiffly and turned away. "Elyan, help him. Gwaine, check that the route is clear."

Elyan's deft hands made quick work of the second boot and the cloak clasp, but Merlin caught the way the former smith stole glances at the cuffs' craftsmanship with morbid curiosity.

Once Elyan had pulled Merlin to his feet, Arthur straightened his shoulders and glanced up at the deepening twilight. "Not a word until we're outside the city walls."

The knights all murmured, "Yes, my lord." Percival and Gwaine stepped forward to join Elyan, flanking Merlin on three sides like a common criminal. At Arthur's nod, Leon led the way, and Arthur brought up the rear of the somber, silent party.

They stole through the darkened corridors as Leon conveniently avoided the regular guard patrols with ease. Merlin muffled a sardonic huff as Leon turned yet another corner without hesitation. It helps when you're the one who made the patrol schedule, he thought. I'd like to see you manage it when you have to figure it out for yourself along the way.

They made it to the stables without incident. The horses were saddled and waiting, and Gaius stood beside a dappled gray bearing heavy saddlebags.

Did Gaius explain the ritual to him? Does Arthur know he has magic, too? Merlin chastised himself as he belatedly realized he'd failed to consider Gaius' secrets and safety when he'd told Arthur that Gaius could corroborate Merlin's request for cold iron cuffs.

Gaius gave Merlin a small nod before leading the dappled gray out of the stable. Merlin hoped that Gaius' saddlebags contained the supplies they'd need for the exorcism, whatever those supplies were—he hadn't read that far in the book—but Gaius' carefully-schooled expression hadn't answered any of Merlin's questions, nor did it absolve Merlin of his guilt.

Merlin took a deep breath through his nose. Regardless, there are two sorcerers on this quest, but only one of us is in chains, Merlin thought. It was more than he'd dared to hope for under the circumstances.

Elyan and Gwaine stayed on either side of Merlin as the others led the horses out into the courtyard. Leon mounted a lanky chestnut, then held out his hand as Percival passed him the lead rope to Merlin's horse, Hengroen. When Elyan nudged Merlin forward, the stocky seal bay whickered softly and nosed at Merlin's shackled hands.

No apples for you today, Merlin thought sadly. Hengroen nudged him in the chest with his velvety muzzle, then lipped at the chain dangling from Merlin's wrists, only to recoil with a snort. Merlin glanced down to see the pale moonlight reflecting off the thick layer of ice that obscured the runes on the cuffs and chain. It's getting worse, Merlin thought absently, but the thought felt as far away as the pale stars in the deepening twilight.

Leon cleared his throat, and Merlin lurched forward on numb feet to mount up. The chains didn't impede the motion nearly as much as he'd expected, but it wasn't like he needed his hands free to hold the reins. They didn't even bother to put a bridle on Hengroen. Merlin was as much an equal participant in this ride as a sack of potatoes.

Leon kept Hengroen close to his own horse as the strange party set out wordlessly into the dark forest beyond the city walls.

They rode in total silence for half a league beyond the citadel gates. Merlin had traded stone walls for silent forests, but the air was equally stifling. He had just concluded that Arthur intended to make them ride in frigid silence the whole way when Arthur reined in Llamrei and turned in the saddle to address Leon.

"Bring him up here," Arthur said.

The rest of the party halted, and Leon nudged his chestnut forward, shortening Hengroen's lead so that they were side by side as they reached the front of the group.

The rising moon had offered enough light to pick their way along the trail but not yet enough for Merlin to read Arthur's expression clearly as Arthur regarded him for a long moment. Merlin held his breath. He was dimly aware of Gwaine's horse snorting impatiently behind them. Gringolet hates standing still even more than Gwaine does.

Arthur cleared his throat. "So, what is the best route to…to whatever it is that we need?"

I guess Gaius didn't tell him everything.

Merlin licked his chapped lips and nodded toward the dark trail ahead. "Keep going west for about half a league, then take the left fork and follow it south for nearly a league. Then"—Merlin swallowed—"then we're going to leave the trail and go west. We'll have to dismount and lead the horses. It'll be too dense to ride for at least another three-quarters of a league until we reach the bank of a stream that flows southwest. We'll follow it for a league, then ford the stream and dismount again for the final quarter-league or so until we reach the spot."

"And what, exactly, is that spot?"

"Um, a large clearing."

"Right." Arthur sighed. "What's in the clearing?"

"Nothing yet," Merlin muttered.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me something only Merlin would know."

Merlin gritted his teeth and fished for an answer; given the current discussion, it didn't take long. "Just before we left to fight the dragon, you told me, 'No man is worth your tears.'"

Arthur was silent for a beat too long. "Earlier, the name you told me to tell Gaius was 'Balinor.' Why?"

He'll find out soon enough. "Balinor was my father's name."

Leon sucked in a sharp breath, but Arthur stayed still as a statue.

Merlin glanced down at his hands. The ice had started creeping up his forearms.

"I see," Arthur said quietly. "What's in the field, Merlin?"

"Nothing yet—"

"Merlin."

"—but there will be a dragon once I've called for him."

Merlin ignored Leon's soft cursing, straining his eyes to read Arthur's reaction.

The Prince-Regent straightened his shoulders. "Give me your word that my men—and my kingdom—will be safe from your dragon."

Merlin blinked. "Yes, yes, of course! I've forbidden him to attack anyone in Camelot."

Leon made a strangled sound. "Forbidden him?"

Merlin shrugged one shoulder—or tried to, but his joints ached from the cold—and mumbled, "I couldn't just let him keep burning everything, could I?"

"Very well," Arthur cut in. "I accept your oath, Dragonlord." As he turned Llamrei back to the dark path ahead, he muttered, "Don't make me regret that."

The silence hung even heavier around them than before. As the full moon continued its upward arc, more light filtered down through the canopy, and Merlin could see that Leon's hand gripped Hengroen's lead with white knuckles. The knight sat straight-backed in his saddle, but it wasn't his usual fluid confidence from a lifetime of riding. Every line of his body was tense, from his stiff shoulders to where his knees gripped his horse's sides tighter than necessary, forcing him to keep the reins short so his horse wouldn't pick up the pace. The poor chestnut had pinned his ears back in displeasure at the mixed signals.

It all added up to one startling conclusion: Leon was terrified, and it was Merlin's fault.

Merlin squeezed Hengroen's sides, and Hengroen obediently caught up with Leon's horse.

Merlin glanced over at Leon. "Sorry about your face," he said quietly.

Leon startled and turned toward him. "What?"

"When I knocked you out last night so I could get to Gaius' books."

"Oh," Leon said stiffly, looking straight ahead again. "It's, uh, it's fine." His fingers twitched on the reins.

"It's not," Merlin countered quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."

Leon scoffed. "It's just a bruise. Save your apologies for Lady Lyonesse, or Lord Corneus, or little Henry and Helena! And that's only the start!"

"I don't—" Then it clicked.

Lady Lyonesse's fiancé Gareth. Lord Corneus' son Lucan. Henry and Helena's father Daniel. All lying dead in a field, burned almost beyond recognition.

Merlin's shoulders slumped. "You're right."

"I don't understand how you could do something like that. So many innocents burned."

Merlin's temper flared. "Oh, that's rich coming from you. You've followed Uther's orders for years. Do you have any idea how many innocents he's burned?"

Arthur cut him off. "Enough!"

"No," Merlin snapped. "I'm not finished. Uther imprisoned Kilgharrah for twenty years. I freed him, but I didn't tell him to attack. I stopped him and sent him away."

"If that's true, then why did you wait?" Leon demanded. "He attacked for a full week!"

"I know." Merlin dropped his gaze to Hengroen's smooth withers and coarse mane. He knew exactly how many people Kilgharrah had killed indiscriminately; he could still feel the phantom blisters where his shovel had rubbed his palms and sides of his thumbs raw as he'd helped to bury men, women, and children.

"It's an inherited power," Gaius interjected calmly. "The gift only passes from father to son when the father dies."

Merlin swallowed thickly. "I stopped him as soon as I could. As long as I live, he won't attack again, I promise."

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Is that a threat?"

"What?" Merlin replayed his words in his head. "No, I didn't mean it like that! I don't know if a Dragonlord's command outlives the Dragonlord." He closed his eyes, blinking back tears. "There's… there's so much I don't know. About dragons, about my father, about this gift—all of it." And there's no one left to teach me.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Gaius, do you know the answer?"

Gaius shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Your Highness." His tone was detached, almost clinical, as he continued, "The noble houses of the Dragonlords would have kept such records, but the king burned their records along with them."

"Noble houses?" Gwaine echoed.

Gaius nodded. "As the name suggests, Dragonlords were nobility. Their power had been handed down for generations. They were both lauded and feared for it."

Gwaine threw a pointed look at Merlin. "That's quite a pedigree."

"Gwaine—"

"The things you said these past few days…how much of that was you?"

"I don't…" Merlin sighed. "A mix."

"Tell me something only Merlin would know," Gwaine said abruptly, jaw tight as he watched Merlin with wary eyes.

Merlin sifted through their shared moments and confidences. The trouble with this question, he soon realized, was that answering would mean divulging his friend's secrets. It was easier with Arthur; they had lived in each other's pockets for so long that there were plenty of private moments Merlin could recount that wouldn't mortify or undermine Arthur. But with the others, even Gwaine?The list of options was much, much shorter.

Merlin held Gwaine's gaze. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Gwaine's jaw twitched, and he hesitated before giving a curt nod.

Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm not the only one hiding my noble heritage."

Gwaine gave him a tight smile as every other head whipped to look at the knight. "So you can tell the truth." He adjusted his grip on the reins.

"But I was lying when I said I never trusted you," Merlin replied.

"Then why did you say it?"

"Same reason I hit Leon. I needed you to leave so I could get to Gaius' books."

Gwaine huffed a bitter laugh. "It almost worked."

"I know."

Arthur interrupted them, having turned Llamrei and backtracked to square up with Gwaine. "What did he mean by that?" he demanded.

No one needed to ask which revelation Arthur meant.

"My father," Gwaine admitted grudgingly, "was a knight in Caerleon's army. He died in battle, leaving our family penniless, and his king refused to help us." He raised his chin. "I left that life behind me many years ago."

Arthur appraised him for a long moment. "That explains a lot," he said at last, exhaling heavily. "We will discuss this, but now is neither the time nor place." He turned Llamrei and rode back to the head of the column, adding as he passed Merlin, "Same goes for you." Reaching the front, he turned in the saddle and addressed the whole group. "As enlightening as this evening has been, if anyone has any other confessions that aren't relevant to our quest, I don't want to hear them tonight."

"Yes, my lord," the knights murmured. As they resumed riding, Leon summoned Percival from the back of the column and handed off Hengroen's lead with a terse "Watch him" before dropping back to bring up the rear.

After several minutes of nothing but the sounds of the wind whistling through the branches and the soft jingle of tack and chainmail, they reached the fork and turned south.

The southbound trail was wide enough to ride three abreast, so Percival shortened the rope to bring Merlin alongside him. Glancing over, Percival dropped his voice. "Lancelot?"

Merlin flinched.

Percival continued quietly, "Did he know?"

Merlin nodded and squeezed his eyes shut; he couldn't speak past the grief lodged in his throat. He startled when Elyan spoke from his other side, having caught up to them when the trail widened.

"Gwen and I were wondering about that, too."

Merlin simply nodded again.

Elyan continued. "He knew, and he, uh, he did it anyway?"

"Yes," Merlin breathed. "He did. I didn't want him to. I didn't ask him to. He knew it was my responsibility—"

"Stop it." Elyan cut him off. "Remember what Gwen said?"

"But she didn't know," Merlin retorted, fighting back a fresh wave of tears that threatened to freeze on his lashes. "It is my duty, my destiny, to protect Arthur with my life. That's what my magic is for."

"Oh," Elyan murmured to himself, so low that Merlin almost missed it. "It's not really about Lancelot or the Dorocha after all."

No one spoke again for nearly a league.

Merlin's mind wandered like a child lost in a December fog. The cold was pervasive yet nebulous as mist; sunlight was a half-forgotten dream. The darkness clung to the undersides of his skin like a wet tunic. He nearly missed the next turn through the haze.

"Wait," he croaked, then pointed to a narrow gap in the brush, little more than a deer trail. "That's the path."

The party halted, and Arthur raised a calculating eyebrow as he looked between Merlin and the path he'd indicated.

"Tell me something only Merlin would know."

"Um." Merlin sifted through the mist for a fresh answer that would reassure his prince without inviting additional questions and stirring up more trouble. He settled on a conversation he was absolutely certain neither he nor Arthur had repeated to anyone else. "When we were on the way to rescue Gwen when Hengist had kidnapped her, you let slip that you wanted to marry Gwen, but you knew Uther would never permit it." A small grin warmed his numb lips at the memory. "And then, naturally, you threatened to make my life a living hell if I ever told anyone you'd admitted to any of that."

Arthur turned an interesting shade of red. "You've made your point," he said, dismounting swiftly and leading Llamrei over to inspect the opening of the narrow trail. "Come on."

Merlin glanced at Percival before sliding off Hengroen and stumbling on numb legs after Arthur. Behind them, the rest of the knights and Gaius dismounted.

Elyan handed off his horse to Gwaine and caught up with Arthur. "I can walk in front with Merlin," he offered.

"Good," Arthur said, still red.

Elyan grinned. "Not that you need my blessing, my lord, but you should know you have it nonetheless." Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Merlin and gestured to the footpath. "Lead the way."

They trekked in pensive silence, broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath boots and hooves, until they reached the stream Merlin had described. The forest was thinner along the bank, allowing more moonlight to filter down through the canopy and offering enough space to safely remount. Merlin stayed at the front to guide them, with Elyan taking Hengroen's rope this time. After roughly half an hour, they reached the point where the stream widened. Merlin knew the bed was shallow and the current lazy, making it the safest crossing without going well out of their way.

"We need to cross here," he told them.

Leon spoke up, "Tell us something only Merlin would know."

Merlin had spent a good portion of the tense ride wracking his sluggish brain to compile a list of answers to the recurring question that wouldn't be incendiary, so he barely paused before turning to Arthur, raising an eyebrow, and saying, "Remember Lady Sophia?"

Arthur's brows pinched in suspicion. "…What about her?"

"I told you I knocked you out with a lump of wood and dragged you back to Camelot when you tried to elope with her."

Merlin thought he heard Gwaine muffle a snort, but Arthur was not amused.

"Told me?" In the pale moonlight, Merlin could see Arthur's brows rise as he put the pieces together. "What really happened?"

Merlin chewed his lip, wincing as the cold-chapped skin cracked. "It's a long story, but Sophia was a Sidhe who enchanted you and tried to sacrifice you in the Lake of Avalon."

"She what?"

"I stopped her. With magic. But I couldn't tell you that, obviously." Merlin shrugged. "So. Lump of wood."

Arthur blinked at him, then turned to look at Gaius. "You were there, and you didn't contradict him."

"There was no lump of wood, my lord."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Leon, I trust you're satisfied with that answer?"

"I am if you are, my lord," Leon replied, but he didn't sound particularly pleased.

Arthur nodded stiffly and urged Llamrei forward. The mare splashed through the shallow water of the crossing and scrambled up the loose bank on the other side.

Elyan offered Merlin a small smile as the rest of the party passed them to follow Arthur across the stream. "Gwen will be sorry she missed out on seeing Arthur's face when you told those stories," he said.

Merlin gratefully accepted the olive branch. "Oh, don't worry, I have plenty of others."

They crossed last and joined the others on the far bank. When Merlin dismounted, his stiff fingers lost their grip on the pommel, and he landed in a heap on the damp ground. As Merlin lay there, dazed, a glint of moonlight drew his eyes to the stream.

It had turned to ice.

A moment later, Percival reached down, hauled him up by his shoulders, and ushered him to the front of the line. When Merlin glanced back towards the stream, the water had started flowing again.

No one else seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss.

A/N:

Merlin Bingo 2023: This chapter fills square G3 - "Free Square"