Loyalty
Merlin had much enjoyed the quiet daybreak to himself.
He had woken early, stunned to the woman's face inches from his, soft breaths fluttering over his skin. She looked so gentle, so peaceful in her sleep. Merlin had lay there for many moments, taking in the scent of earthen pine and sage, cradled in their shared warmth beneath the blankets. Yet his legs began to ache, and the golden glow of the blushing sky bid him to rise. So he slowly squirmed his way from the furs, pausing only as Morgana had sighed and twisted, before she stilled once more.
A chill was settling into the small hut as he snuck from the bundle. Merlin pulled his battered and thin leather jacket around him and shivered. At least he had his trusty neckerchief keeping his neck warm, although it scratched painfully against dark swollen blotches under his jaw.
He slowly gathered some kindling from a pile against the corner, smiling at the soft birdsong greeting the sunrise.
Typically he would be awoken with a rush, fighting against sleep and the restless night of whatever magic shenanigans he had gotten into the evening before. He would dress, quickly hiding the magic tomes he had been pouring over, ripping blankets aside as he searched for a missing boot. If he was lucky, he would get a few bites of thick porridge before being rushed off, and if he was really lucky he could snag an apple that might not be stolen by a passing knight or while trying to serve breakfast to an ungrateful -
Merlin paused, crouched over the round hearth. He tilted his head at the tinder he had stacked before him, blinking. He held a flint in one hand and a small rock in the other, and had been habitually striking them together for sparks.
A small smile and waggish look in his eyes appeared as he came out of his thoughts.
What was he doing? He didn't have to hide here. He could finally be himself.
A deep exhale escaped his lips, flames bursting to life with barely a thought.
It felt like a deep breathe to stinging lungs as his head breached the surface.
The fire was softly crackling as he filled a water-skin from a bucket in the corner, pouring the contents into the empty cauldron hanging from its stake above the hearth.
Merlin peered at the herbs drying in the window. He had thought he had seen some still green sage, and he smiled happily as he plucked it from its place in the rising sun. He would make a soothing sage tea for Morgana to wake up to. Perhaps he could find coriander...Scanning some shelves, he stuffed a jar of oats under his arm, carrying his haul to the table and laying it out. He was pleased to find two wooden bowls as he shuffled around.
Morgana rustled behind him. He turned to see her lips down-turned, brows scrunched as she softly gasped. Another nightmare?
Merlin made a mental note to adjust the proportions of her sleeping tincture. Perhaps she was developing a resistance to the belladonna after taking it for so long. Of course, properly exercising her prophetic abilities during the day would likely stop them from intruding upon her dreams, but Merlin couldn't blame her for avoiding them. The future was a troubling, persistent thing.
A sharp yelp came from the woman's lips, and he rushed to her side. The clanking of the bowls falling from his hands must have woken her as she jolted, hair flying frantically as she searched around. A brief and wild surge of energy pulsed over the room, sending more than one glass tumbling to the ground.
"It's alright Morgana! You're safe, I'm here." Merlin gathered her in his arms, whispering comforts. His own magic reached out to soothe hers, soft waves of an ocean calming the raging rapid of her river. He stroked her back, feeling the racking sobs of her body begin to still.
"Merlin-" She whimpered into his collar. Her nails had clung into his jacket, almost digging into his ribs. As her breathing slowed, the fingers unraveled and began to climb up his back, wrapping themselves into his slightly overgrown locks.
Before pulling, yanking, a sharp pain sudden across his face as the taste of iron stung his tongue. Merlin was knocked to the side, wrists stinging from the fresh hurt as he caught himself against the hard floor.
The woman rose slowly, muttering. Merlin's ears were already burning, and yet the prickling increased as he thought he heard her hiss his other name.
Rustling against the shelves, her long fingers stumbled, knocking jars and bottles together before slowly turning back round to meet his eyes. She held up a vial, a familiar gleam glistening under the glass.
"I'm sure you recall this one."
Merlin swallowed thickly, guilt written on his face. His eyes turned towards the ground, not bothering to move from his fallen position splayed across the floor. Of course he remembered. He had been unable to sleep for a week, replaying the scenario in his head. Seeing the look of betrayal written on the woman's face as her blood caught in her throat. Hearing her ask the same question he asked himself every night after. Why? Why wasn't he stronger, why hadn't he studied more, maybe if … But every road taken lead him to more past regrets and doubts.
Finally, his sore voice croaked out a response. "It's hemlock."
Morganna had a cruel glint in her eyes as she looked at Merlin. She crouched over where he still sat, pulling the small cork from the vial with a slight pop.
"Do you also recall my screams?" She whispered, reaching towards him. His body flinched in a quick shudder, his eyes closing briefly as a breath escaped his lips. Her thumb streaked the warm red dripping from his lips across his cheek, and the woman smiled.
With an abrupt movement she was pulling his chin up and squeezing his cheeks to a pucker, pouring the contents of the vial over his tongue.
The slightly bitter taste tightened around his throat. A pleased hiss echoed in the depths of his consciousness. His desperate eyes met hers, but even as he wanted to beg, he thought, perhaps, maybe he deserved this.
His breath caught in his chest, feeling a growing pressure constricting his ribs. He swallowed desperately, saliva bubbling against the acid in his stomach. His skin felt tight and sweaty, liquid pooling from his pores, welling in the corner of his eyes, gushing from under his tongue.
His head swam as he felt himself collapse, twisting, back arching against the ground as the poison spread, caustic surging in his veins. Beyond the pain howling in his head, he could hear the rising giggle of her laughter. Her soft, beautiful lips parting in manic joy.
His throat coated, screams of pain choking in sticky, crimson sap.
And he knew he would give it all for her. For she would destroy Albion and bring magic back to the land.
With him by her side. Always.
…
Something ached deep within him.
Loyal...
Merlin's screams had faded to weak cries by the time a thick parchment scroll traded hands.
"I hope you are not going to disappoint me once again, Agravaine." Morgana turned, gliding over to her table, pulling at the dyed strings until the paper unfurled before her.
"Plans to the siege tunnels beneath Camelot- as good as a key to the great gates." The Lord responded, twitching against the sounds in the corner with a hint of pity and disgust on his face.
"But a good deal more deadly." Morgana smiled as the candle light danced across the depiction of Camelots underground. She pushed against the curling edges, flattening the map against the parchment beneath as she hissed, eyes flashing amber.
"Writ þás gelicnesse ond afæstne þa þæm clute þa" The ink seemed to sizzle, burning the image into the page underneath before bubbling back to their previous etchings, as if nothing had occurred.
"You've done well, Agravaine." She quickly rolled up the originals, handing them back to him. She met his gaze briefly before releasing her grip, her words accented with the soft moans of pain coming from the servant in the shadows. "Finally."
Agravaine could only pale as she turned, finally facing the writhing boy on the floor.
"Now go, before anyone notices you're gone. And Agravaine?" Her head turned slightly towards him, gentle light casting an eerie glow on her crooked smile. "Be ready."
The Lords feet were fleet as he departed the witches hut, scroll tucked under his arm.
Her face flashed with disgust. Morgana's fingers pulled a small vial from her pocket, sweeping over to the twitching form of Merlin.
As she knelt down, she again pulled at his chin, pink saliva streaming down his neck. His eyes were wide, the black centers almost touching the whites, only a sliver of blue flickering into gold as his magic fought to keep him alive. She popped the cork on the vial and poured the bitter concoction in, followed quickly by Morgana's fingers. She pushed and wiggled down, petting his tongue until-
The contents of his stomach spilled onto the floor, tinged with dark beads, as if he had swallowed handfuls of dirt.
When his retching subsided into gasps, Morgana yanked the red neckerchief around his throat, pulling them away from the mess. She bundled herself onto the floor in the light of the warm fire, dragging his shaking form into her arms.
She pushed his head into her lap, slowly stroking his black hair as he coughed. Tears mixed with blood on her dress, but the dark color did not show it, she could tell only by the warm, wet heat tingling onto her thighs. The witch smiled, her dancing fingers moving to the rolling black smear on the back of his neck.
Morgana did not recall the words she whispered, but she felt the soft praise falling from her lips, thanking him for proving his loyalty, and finally, forgiving him for his previous actions against her.
Her smile only grew as Merlin heaved, pained chokes turning into relieved sobs.
Loyalty
A shadowed form pushed against the heavy door, sliding between the crack quickly before it shut behind him. A thick scroll was pulled out from under a dark cloak as he crept his way into the 'secure' vault. He was increasingly grateful for his foresight in paying off the guards ahead of time.
As Agravaine made his way into the darkened room, and the torchlight cast dancing shadows against the walls and shelves, one of the shadows moved. His body froze, throat catching as he blinked. A trick of the light?
"Uncle." A familiar voice rang out, echoing against the damp walls. King Arthur stepped into the light of the torch, quickly followed by Sir Gohort and Sir Ector. Agravaine's neck snapped round as he watched Sir Leon move behind him, blocking the door he had just entered through.
Agravaine exhaled quickly through his nose, tension dropping from his shoulders in his obvious defeat. He pushed his hood back from his face, face twisting as he no longer had to hide his spite.
"My sister's traitorous son." He spat.
The king only shook his head in disappointment, making a motion with his hand. Sir Leon pulled the scroll from Agravaine's arms, handing it off to Sir Ector's outstretched hand. The knight commander then moved to stand just behind the now disgraced lord, hand resting gently on the pommel of his blade.
The two council members looked over the scroll before giving a small nod to their king.
Agravaine did not resist as Sir Leon lead him out the door, taking the key from his hands as he did in an expecting gesture. So they had already known. Satisfied by the trap he had been caught in, he allowed himself a brief moment in their quiet march through the corridor to feel some piece of pride. Before swiftly squashing the emotion under the memory of his sister and brother's pained faces as they died before Uther's hands.
Large doors were opened slowly as the group entered the throne room. The remaining council members were already present, to his brief shock. Most of them with robes draped over their night clothes. Lady Floris in particular, with an irritating shade of madder orange thick shawl draped around her. Agravaine resisted making eye contact with Sir Alymere- not like the lord worm could do anything to help him now. Yet he did not resist the sneer he sent toward his old rival Gaius, frowning as the man was pointedly avoiding his eye, instead watching another with soft attention. The sneer returned with a flaring rage as he followed his gaze, teeth baring as he recognized the mapmakers apprentice.
Eoghan was partially leaning on a staff, other hand steadying himself on the chair in which his master, the elderly Thomassian, sat. The boy's chest was obviously heavily bandaged beneath his tunic and his young face was twisted in determination against the pain, but he was very much alive.
Agravaine's ears rang as he was settled in front of the rising court, barely hearing the words as they decided his fate.
With Eoghan's witness testimony, the royal mapmaker vouching for him, and the abundance of evidence, his sentence was assured with full council support.
Loyalty
Arthur stood, looking down at the viper curled before him.
"By my authority as king, as witnessed by council here today, you are to be stripped of your lordship, lands, and position as advisor, to be thrown in the dungeons awaiting execution." He paused, attempting to read the expression on his uncles face. Perhaps he was searching for something that never existed.
"Do you anything to say in your defense?"
"You aren't going to question me?" Agravaine sneered, slight surprise on his face as he finally lifted his eyes.
"I don't believe you would tell us anything. Besides, we've already gotten what we need from you." Arthur motioned towards the table where the maps rolled, a half smile on his lips.
A brief flash of rage on Agravaine's face as he hissed.
"You aren't curious as to where your little friend has gone?"
Arthur tried not to let his uncle provoke him, even as his fists tightened and his jaw began to work again. He fought to keep his composure as the entire councils eyes fixed upon him. Even as the king considered a thousand different, painful ways to procure that information after the battle.
"Take him away."
Agravaine thrashed his shoulders in vain against the hands of the knights around him. He could never hide much from his uncle, and the quick man seemed to sink his fangs into the smallest quiver in his voice.
"I hadn't realized the boy had such lungs on him. His screams could be heard fro-"
Red seared across Arthur's vision, fury overwhelming his sudden panic.
"What have you done, uncle!?" He seethed, stopping his next step as he almost lunged towards the man. "Where is he?"
-My Merlin.
The man laughed spitefully as his answer.
Arthur's heart beat loudly against his ears, red hot rage rising to his cheeks. He turned away from the cackling zealot, waving his hands at the knights as they dragged him out the large oaken doors. His laughter still echoed against the corridors, fading as Arthur let out a slow exhale, slowly peeling his nails from the palm of his hand.
Sir Ector broke the momentary silence.
"Sire, in light of his treason, the council would move to set an execution." Several heads nodded across the room as they murmured their support.
"I understand the councils worry. However, we've more urgent matters to attend to at the moment." Arthur took another steadying breath before facing them with a lifted chin and firm voice.
"It is safe to assume Agravaine was working with our enemies. I would go as far to assume one in particular- my sister Morgana." He allowed the low hush of surprised reactions to fade.
"We know the route she plans to attack by. It is likely she will amass a force, perhaps even an army, but she thinks she is taking us by surprise, yet we will be prepared."
Arthur motioned to Geoffrey, the librarian slowly unrolling the map before the councils curious eyes, before explaining his plan. Although, Percival and Elyan had come up with most of it, to his pleased surprise. Only Gwaine had lovingly teased them about their 'sudden intellect', before receiving a smack on the arm from an appalled Gwen.
"The tunnels we had mapped here have not been used for many years. Some may already be collapsed or in ruins. If not, we will make sure the rest are, keeping two or three open to funnel her forces into our waiting defenses." A few nods of approval, even Sir Ector seemed to be paying rapt attention.
"The citizens should have an evacuation plan. When the horn is sounded, everyone from the middle town will move to the lower town and outer ramparts, where the fighting can be avoided. Morgana will be using the tunnels in an attempt to make a direct attack, so we must allow them to do just that."
He paused, searching the slight concern in the faces before him. The mapmakers apprentice Eoghan had already been so brave, and here he was still standing at his masters side. Gaius, strong and assured eyes concealing his deep worry.
"I need everyone working together."
"Not just for the Kingdom, nor Lords and Ladies of our court, not just for our families here in the castle keep, but for our people, depending on us out there."
He could feel every spine straighten with his words. The heavy responsibility of the capital's hope on their shoulders, and Arthur felt a swell of pride as he saw his council rise to the challenge. He raised his chin, pleased with the outcome.
"Your majesty," Sir Gohort paused, a mischievous look creeping across his face. A nod from Arthur allowed him to continue. "There are still deconstructed siege weapons in storage. Normally it would be far too dangerous to suggest using one inside the walls, but, if we know which entrance they will use, and the town is being evacuated anyway…" Lady Floris tittered into her sleeve at her brothers antics.
Arthur's eyebrows raised in surprise. He could see where Sir Percival gets his insane tenacity from now.
"We could certainly use all the help we can get. Maynard will be able to assist in coordination, but we should not take any unnecessary risks-"
The moon rose higher in the sky as the council muttered quick, sometimes desperate ideas. When the councils suggestions began swimming together in his pounding head, Arthur closed the meeting, bidding everyone get what sleep they could for the coming day.
He had been pleasantly distracted with the battle plans, mind spinning threads against unknown foes and possibilities. Now as the quiet approached him, other thoughts began to boil to the surface. Thoughts that his mind could not begin to unravel.
He could tell his friends wished to offer their comfort, their worrying looks pointed at each other as he shooed them away.
He just wanted to be alone. He wanted to feel at ease again. But he hadn't felt at peace since-
Arthur sighed as he pushed himself forward, reaching for an inclining quill with newly hardened resolve.
He began the tedious scratching of politics across parchment. He wrote to king Rodor, agreeing to yield to his terms. He will have Mithian's hand in marriage, in exchange for reinforcements, whatever he can spare, to Camelot immediately.
He could only hope they'll arrive in time…
Arthur tried desperately to ignore the deep ache expanding in his chest.
Loyalty
Candlelight danced across silken blankets, furs scattered around a low table. A mess of a half eaten feast still sat, wet bones slipping off the earthenware onto scraps of letters, threads of twine thrown haphazardly onto the stone floor. Pillows dotted the wooden circumference, a buxom woman slipping off one as she half lay on the surface, fingers fluttering over a handle of beer. A leather cup half spilled of dice rolled dangerously close to her mousy long hair.
In the corner, two thin figures lay bare, concealed only by the drape of cloth, limbs protruding wildly from all sides. Many of those limbs covered in dark welts and shining bumps.
Lord Helios was sitting cross legged at the head of the table, having had quite the pleasant night, before a sudden interruption. The imposing man waved his guests in with one hand, guard bowing out of the way.
"You have company." The witch Morganna hummed as she entered, followed by a sullen dark-haired boy, eyes lowered respectfully. From the way he positioned himself a half step behind her, he seemed to be an attendant of sorts.
"You never change, Helios." She folded her legs under her, settling into an unclaimed cushion, ignoring the slight snore of the drunk figure three pillows over.
The large man took a deep swig of his mead, downing the remainder of his flagon with a small dribble down his chin. A visit from the bargaining hag required extra help.
"You've brought the plans? Without them, any attack-" He was cut off by the soft thump of a scroll falling onto the wood before him. Helios quickly reached forward, picking the binding ties apart and scanning the parchment with eager eyes. A cruel smile flit across his lips even as an eyebrow raised in her direction. "Where did you get this?"
"My source is impeccable, as well as secret." She flashed a smile and motioned for her attendant to sit, the boy sliding to his knees next to her, still dutifully in her wake. "For their own protection, of course."
"If I'm to risk my men -" He tossed the map between them and stretched to pull a pitcher of mead from the edge of the plank before him.
"Are you doubting me?" Morgana's sharp voice pierced his already pulsating eardrums.
"No more than you do me." Helios, keen eyes drifting to the man by her side, noted the red encircling his wrists, and his swollen, downcast eyes.
"On the other hand, perhaps we have more in common than we thought…" The mans voice rumbled with amusement. Though the servants chin was lowered, Helios could see a thin purple bruise peeking from the red fabric on his neck and enticing his eyes along the young mans sharp jaw.
"Come, you must be thirsty after your travels. You and your..." His eyes flickered to the boy again, pouring from the carafe a fresh goblet of mead for his esteemed guest.
"Take care not to get too distracted Helios. There's still much to do. Once I am crowned queen of Camelot, you may indulge yourself as much as you wish." Morgana's knowing eyes glittered, her pale hand resting on the leg of the manservant beside her.
The boy must have been well-trained, as he made no move to argue, not even a flicker of his downcast lashes.
"I may keep you to your word." Helios purred with a twist of his smile, his tastes betraying him. "My forces are ready. I will send call to begin the march at dawn. Tonight, however, we drink."
Pushing the overflowing chalice into her hands, she raised it with a slight nod of her head.
They toast silently the downfall of King Arthur.
Loyalty
King Arthur was currently watching two men banter with a bemused look on his face. Guinevere had tired quickly of their antics, pulling Sir Lancelot aside to speak in hushed tones in a private corner. Gwaine however, had found the entire thing extremely entertaining, and had snagged a green apple to crunch on as he watched.
Their howls would have echoed across the entire courtyard, if it had not been near full of foot-soldiers and servants, rushing from one place to the next with armfuls and shouting demands at each other.
"And with cheaper materials, we could even hand the extras out -" Tom shouted, exacerbated, and not at all intimidated by the hulking tower of a man before him.
The royal sword-smith had his mouth agape, burly arms almost catching a passerby as he waved.
"By compromising the strength of their weapons! You would leave our protectors -"
"Do you realize how many swords are just lying around a battlefield? Regardless, if they're swinging theirs weapons poorly enough to break, they shouldn't be swinging them at all!"
"At least that we can agree upon." A chuckle burst from Maynard's lips, seemingly surprising him as well as they both broke into grins. The spare bubbling laughter broke their terse argument with ease.
"Very well." The large, tough man looked almost impressed as he conceded.
"Aw, just when it was getting good." Gwaine sighed, tossing the apple core he had been nibbling on over his shoulder.
Arthur's eyebrows twitched in annoyance as he heard someone's shocked swear from the crowd. He turned back to the two blacksmiths, now gripping each others forearms in a fond display of brotherly affection the king had no time for. He cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen, the trebuchet?"
They broke and turned to him with spines straightening, as if they had forgotten he was there. Someone had been rubbing off on-
"Oh, right, yes. Well, no. The shot on that one is far too wide. We wouldn't be able to hit anything close enough. But-" Maynard paused, eyes seemingly trailing over the storage's inventory in real time. "We might have something a little smaller that may work..." His sparkling eyes gazed off towards the outer towers.
"We can move the Ballista's from the places we know they wont be needed!" Tom shouted excitedly as Maynard's eyes twinkled back at his new found friend.
"Oh, yes." Gwaine's voice sounded from over his shoulder, seemingly uttered to himself.
Arthur waved his hand over towards Sir Leon, the man rushing over from a now scattering group of lower officers.
"Sire, we've gathered the townspeople at the temporary south stage."
"I'll make my way to address them now. In the meantime, I believe Sir Gornemant de Gohort was inquiring about the large weapon defenses. Maynard and Tom seem to have some ideas."
He motioned to the two men with a slight nod before swiftly moving off, leaving Sir Leon waffling to deal with his mess.
He would try to do something nice for him when this was all over. Maybe some days off. Arthur thought maybe they should all take many days off, if they survive this.
He briefly caught sight of Guinevere and Lancelot wrapped in a small embrace. As they separated, Lancelot nodded solemnly, earning a beautiful bright smile from the woman. The knight moved back towards Gwaine, who immediately began to harass him like a younger brother. Arthur's eyes met Gwen's, a quick sure nod of her head before she seamlessly disappearing into the crowd.
Arthur motioned to his knights to follow as he made his way toward the southern stage. The crowd of citizens were understandably anxious with all the movement, and Arthur attempted to meet all their eyes before making his announcement.
He announced the impending attack, and before the yells of protest began, he quickly apologized for having kept things so under wraps.
Arthur calmly explained their evacuation routes, where to go and what to do when the attack falls and the horn sounds-
A loud voice billowed from the masses, cutting him off.
To his surprise, they ask him where they go to fight. This is their home too, and he is their king. Mutters of agreements run through the crowd as Arthur's numb and monotonous mind began to focus. He moved down from the stage, walking up to the man, tanned with the light of sun and arms taught with years of hard work.
"This is nothing but a political cue. I will not have my people caught in the middle. Protect your families." Arthur gave a warm, confident smile while clapping the man on the shoulder.
"Knowing my citizens will be safe and guarded by the courage I see here today will ease my worries greatly." It was a truth that formed the foundation of his ego, his very being built upon the burden of one day being a king. Now being responsible for each and every one of the souls in his borders.
The man nodded, giving him a stark smile in return.
Arthur watched as the crowd dispersed, trailing his way down the cobblestone path to the nearest tunnel section. His mind hazing in the steadily growing stress he had stifled deep below his heart. He chatted with the men overseeing the operations, hearing of their success and troubles as he offered them whatever support they needed. Many tunnels have come down, but there were still more to go.
Everyone was working hard.
He pauses to watch a group of men struggle against the stubbornly rusted wheels of a Ballista, before being distracted by a figure hobbling quickly toward him, long robes bustled in his hands.
Gaius ran up to him, red faced, a flaxen parchment crumpled in his tight grip.
"What is it Gaius? What's happened?" Lids narrowed, Arthur kept his composure as the eyes of the town began to turn towards the ruckus.
"Sire! I've just received a raven from Ealdor. Hunith-"
Arthur recognized the name of Merlin's mother with a swell of guilt, bubbling from where he had hidden it from sight. "She must be worried sick. Please let her know that I-"
"No, its not that, well it is, but Sire." The physician took a deep breath against the shake in his voice.
"It's an army. They're closer than we'd thought."
Loyalty
Dearest Gaius,
Merlin has not responded to my previous message. Did my letter not reach him? He is always prompt in his replies, and my stomach twists with worry over my only child. I am sorry to reach out to you with this, and I hope that he is simply busy in his duties. Yet, there is another reason I send this bird.
I have a bad feeling, my old friend. When I was out gathering herbs, I saw an army. They were heading west, around the southern ridge of Ascetir. They flew no banner I was familiar with.
Gaius, they march toward Camelot.
Please, have Merlin write his mother back. And keep yourselves safe.
My thoughts are with you both always.
Love,
Hunith.