Loaded up with Gaius' forgotten saddlebags, Merlin jogged back toward the edge of camp where Camelot's chosen representatives were gathering. The sun shone high overhead, only lightly obscured by fluffy, drifting wisps of clouds. Despite that, chilling air bit at any exposed flesh and he found himself wishing he'd had the foresight to wear a cloak.
He could feel his body was recovering well, and while strain pulled at his muscles in a constant but subtle ache, they no longer seared aside from his shoulder. And that, too, was holding up well, showing no fresh infection even after he'd reopened it on the journey here. Gaius had promised he would remove the stitches in another three days if Merlin, in turn, promised to take it easy. The ones in his face were already gone and he was anxious to have it all be done with.
Gwaine appeared from between two distant tents, spotting Merlin and hurrying forward. Merlin, meanwhile, caught sight of the knight from the corner of his eye and increased his speed, trying not to make it too obvious he was fleeing.
A stab of guilt twinged inside him over trying to avoid Gwaine. Since they'd left Camelot he had been, well, asking odd and uncomfortable questions. Gwaine seemed to be the only one interested in the details of exactly how Merlin had escaped his captors. He had evaded answering so far by claiming his memory of the affair hadn't really returned yet, but he knew the knight would continue to press the matter. When he got stuck on something he was like a hound with a favorite bone.
Worse, perhaps, he was also the only one to ask about the roots.
Merlin truly didn't know how to answer those questions. He himself remembered little beyond a hazy and fevered flash of using his magic with a sense of desperation to not fall from the saddle. And so, at least for now, his solution was to avoid the conversation entirely.
Undaunted, the knight was palpably closing in like a hot sun at his back and Merlin knew he could realistically pretend he didn't hear his own name being called for only so long. Moving nearly at a run now, he burst around a corner only to almost collide with his mentor.
"Merlin! There you are- I thought for sure you'd gotten lost and we'd need to send out a search party. What took you so long?"
"Merlin!" Gwaine hurtled around the corner a second later moving at a full tilt, drawing up short at the sight of Gaius.
Gaius in turn raised one eyebrow disapprovingly as if this explained everything, "Ah- I see. Well if the two of you are ready to take this matter seriously, we're just about ready to head out."
Stung by the undeserved chastisement, Merlin glowered. Nevertheless, he was thankful for Gaius's abrupt appearance.
Gwaine recovered first. "Yes, of course! Apologies, Gaius. I just–Merlin I was wondering if later, you may be willing to show me how you get Arthur's mail so clean. I've been having some… issues with mine."
Smiling blandly, Merlin couldn't quite bring himself to meet his friend's eyes. "Of course, although I'm not sure when I'll have the time. We've been quite busy, preparing supplies in the event a battle does break out."
"Of course, well in that case, perhaps I can come and assist you sometime. That is, if Gaius wouldn't mind?"
Oblivious to the significant look Merlin was giving him, the physician waved one hand distractedly. "What? Oh yes of course."
Merlin stewed over this unpleasant turn of events, resolving to have a conversation with Gaius in private about the matter.
Hoisting one of the saddlebags from his grasp the knight nudged him, misinterpreting the cause of his mood, "Cheer up little storm cloud, I'm certain it won't actually come to that. The Queen's proposition benefits both sides especially in the long run."
Forcing a smile Merlin nodded, experiencing another pang of guilt. "No, of course, you're right."
Gwaine deserves better. Even now all he does is look out for me.
For a brief instant Merlin entertained memories of the connection he'd once had with Lancelot, of the freedom and even the fun, all of which had come from honesty. Could he find the same with Gwaine? Would Gwaine keep his secret, or would he do his duty to the crown?
Would it be fair of Merlin to put the knight in a position to have to choose?
No, this was a thought for another time. He had enough crashing about in his head as it was. One potentially cataclysmic disaster at a time, please.
"Don't you think you will need more protection?" As they rounded a final tent, one voice became distinguishable above the rest of the camp noise. Recognizing it as belonging to Sir Charles he felt the edge of one lip involuntarily rise in distaste. He didn't like Charles and the man's presence did nothing to lift his sour mood. A memory of the man tormenting a merchant in the market over 'not showing a knight the proper respect' stood at the forefront of his memory.
"An escort of a dozen men was agreed on, I won't jeopardize these negotiations by taking more."
"Of course not my Queen, but why take the physician and his assistant? Surely replacing them with additional guards would-"
"If Queen Morcant decides to betray us, even a dozen of our finest men won't stop her," Interrupted Gwen firmly. "I have my reasoning, Captain. I appreciate your concern but I do not owe you an explanation nor do I have the time to provide one."
Glaring hot daggers at Charles, Merlin didn't bother to hide his satisfaction at Gwen's handling of the man.
Stepping over to his mount, Merlin caught hold of Gwen's hand for the briefest moment as he brushed past, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He imagined he was one of the few people who knew her well enough to see the shine of anxiety in her eyes. She flashed a smile at him and squeezed back. The entire exchange lasted only a moment but both relaxed almost imperceptibly from the contact.
Their delegation was to ride out to meet Lady Morcant's in no man's land between their camps at sun high. Merlin hadn't appreciated that distance until they set out. The distance from one camp to the other was deceptively far to his inexperienced eye, and he soon became grateful they traveled it by horseback. Even Gwen rode, looking regal and confident upon a golden palomino. She'd always been a good rider, it was one of the things Arthur used to gush about. Her mount's tack was as decorative as it was functional, the black leather along its chest studded with golden disks and glittering rubies.
The Queen was dressed in an outfit very similar to the one he'd seen her wear the day before, but with an added layer of furs peeking out from her neck and hemline for warmth.
In the distance, the Dyfed delegation also approached. Merlin craned his neck around the mounted knights ahead of him trying to make out faces and details. The magic within him simmered almost eagerly, responding to the strong emotion coursing through his body, and he tightened his hands on his reigns.
XXXX
As the two parties drew closer Gwen noted that the lion's share of Queen Morcant's escort was an armed selection of Dyfed's knights. The two exceptions came in the forms of a hooded figure riding on the queen's left hand and what seemed to be a finely dressed young Lord riding on her right. Advisors, perhaps?
This was the first time in her life Gwen had laid eyes on the Queen, though her mind was spinning with the information she had gathered in preparation for this meeting. Born and raised to royalty, Líadan Morcant was said to be a wise, if hard ruler. Stories painted a picture of a highly intelligent monarch who, when it was called for, could be as uncompromising and severe as the sea, but ruled fairly and justly. She was much loved by her people. Unlike Camelot, magic was welcome within the borders of Dyfed, and the execution of her ambassador had created a personal and political rift between the kingdoms ever since. As a sea-bordering kingdom, home to the majority of the easily accessible ports, this had had a long and deeply felt impact. Dyfed would still sell the imported goods it received from across the Seas of Meredoc to Camelot, but at vastly inflated prices. Significantly, like Camelot, they held a peace treaty with Gawant. And also like Camelot, their treaty with King Godwin has spanned several generations now. If it came to a military confrontation Gwen couldn't count on Godwin to act decisively rather than bide his time, reluctant to choose sides between two such long standing allies.
Dismounting, her knights followed suit and fell in to flank her as she covered the last few yards of ground on foot. Nearly face to face now, Gwen leveled a hard gaze at the woman who had taken her husband.
"Greetings, Queen Morcant," she began, her tone respectful but firm. "We have come to bargain for peace."
Líadon regarded Gwen with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Tell me, young Queen, what do you imagine that means?"
Gwen took a deep breath, her eyes unwavering. "We wish to negotiate for the release of our people. We understand the value of peace and I believe I have found a resolution which would benefit both our kingdoms."
"Your King and his knights came unbidden into my lands, only to then attack my son and heir." With a gesture, the young Lord at her side stepped forward. Gwen couldn't help but notice the way his eyes drifted towards Merlin, nor the faint smirk which flitted across his lips.
Queen Morcant continued speaking, "In these lands, that is considered treason. I would be well within my rights to declare war. What need have I to agree to anything which benefits your kingdom?"
Hostility then. Very well, she was used to that. Gwen didn't know the depths of the deception here or the extent of this Queen's involvement in it but she knew more was going on than they were admitting to. "These are very serious allegations. I wonder–according to my men the King only rode out to try and rescue one of our own, who they believed had been abducted. Circumstances which were misleading, at the very least. Although I'm certain you had nothing to do with that."
Gwen nearly choked on the words they were so bitter on her tongue. If I offer you an out, will you take it? "Perhaps circumstances on both sides were misleading. If you'd allow us to speak with our people, I'm certain it would illuminate–"
"I will not."
"…Pardon?"
Queen Morcant took a deliberate step forward. "I will not allow you to speak with our prisoners. I don't see the necessity in providing you a chance to corroborate whatever tale of innocence you've conceived."
"But surely we must look at all the evidence," insisted Gwen, her temper flaring.
Queen Morcant spoke without heat, but her words were relentless. "What other evidence is needed? You would challenge the word and the honor of a crowned prince, and by extension, myself?"
Gwen stepped forward to meet her pulse pounding in her ears. "No more than you would challenge the honor of my Lord and husband. But we have no need to quarrel; as is my right as Queen of Camelot, according to ancient blood rights of these lands, I invoke the right of single combat. Let two champions settle this matter between them. As has been taught, the Gods will show the wronged party their favor."
A flash of something behind those stony eyes, something Gwen couldn't quite read. Queen Morcant tilted her chin up, the sharp angles of her face and the intensity of her focus reminding Gwen forcefully of a bird of prey.
"And why should I agree to this?"
"There is no reason to spill unnecessary blood."
"You have the right to demand a trial by combat, but what would your terms be?" Líadan asked, almost inquisitive.
Gwen's fingers clenched into fists "If my Champion wins then you return Arthur and the imprisoned Knights to us. We will withdraw our army and return home. From there, our two kingdoms will work to draw up a peace treaty to prevent any future… incidents."
"And if mine is the victor?"
"Then all the lands of Camelot between our current border and the White Mountains will become a part of Dyfed. Additionally, we will withdraw our armies." There was the briefest of pauses before Gwen continued, "but we take Arthur and the Knights with us."
"While an intriguing notion, I do not agree with these terms." Líadan said, succinctly.
"What is it you would change?" asked Gwen coolly, although it came as no surprise her initial terms would be rejected.
"If my champion is victorious then no, you do not get your men back." Something glittered in those pale eyes, but Gwen didn't believe it was joy. Sorrow? "If you lose, then the treason of both him and his Knights shall be confirmed beyond a doubt and they will face a summary execution. Additionally, you shall accept their guilt and withdraw without any further confrontation."
Heart skipping a shuddering beat Gwen clasped her hands before her to conceal their trembling. Unhappy mutters and shifting clinks of armored men adjusting themselves came from behind her in a wave of response to the proposition. She was a serving girl, did she have the right to gamble with such stakes? No, she corrected herself firmly. You are a queen. Take a breath and make your move, you cannot flinch.
A pause. She drew in a deep slow breath, focusing on the sensation of air moving into her lungs and then out again. "Very well, we are agreed… on one condition. I want to see Arthur. I'm certain you understand we must confirm his safety."
"Then it's done. I will extend you a single day's time to select your champion, we will meet again here at noon tomorrow and you will present and declare them. We will bring your King, but know his life is forfeit should you, for some reason, attempt a rescue or to double cross me."
Gwen raised her eyebrows slightly, taken aback. "And your champion?"
"Is already accounted for." Líadan took one step to the side and gestured vaguely, inviting someone forward.
Tensing, Gwen glanced to the young man she had initially assumed to be the queen's son. Instead it was the hooded figure who stepped forward. Gwen had been so focused on the Queen that she hadn't taken much of an inventory of this unassuming companion, but looking them up and down now her stomach dropped through the ground at her feet as if her body realized something before her mind could catch up.
Drawing back her hood, Morgana smiled coldly, her charcoal-lined eyes coals of simmering spite. "It's been a long time, Gwen."
This was exactly what they wanted. We've been betrayed.
But Líadan wasn't finished. "We declare Lady Morgana Pendragon to be Dyfed's champion. Additionally, as a gesture of good will and transparency, I have brought you something."
As if on a signal, her entourage split and a lone soldier pulled forward a small handcart. Inside of it was a body wrapped in white linens.
"What is this?" breathed Gwen, hardly able to tear her eyes from the still form.
"An offering–one of your knights who was slain in the initial confrontation. I'm afraid I know not which one. We return his body to you for a proper burial, so you may know we hold no hard feelings."
The words sent ice water through Gwen's veins and her knees weakened. A fallen knight? She had to resist every instinct within screaming for her to run and tear away the white sheet, to make certain it wasn't her brother who lay dead.
Gaius moved to the cart, glancing back to her before he pulled the wrapping down just enough to reveal the top of Emmanuel's face. Oddly preserved, the young knight's skin glittered strangely, as if covered in frost.
The next hour passed as if in a thick fog. Head spinning at the turn of events, Gwen wasn't certain how to recover. Even knowing something was wrong, they'd still walked into a trap.
As soon as their parties had separated Gwen promptly ordered two of her accompanying knights to ride ahead as swiftly as they could and apprehend Kylar Balcom for questioning. Though she had little hope he would be foolish enough to remain, the actions of Dyfed's Queen had cast his recommendation for the trial by combat into a poor light. The Queen had been too quick with her counter for this to have been anything but a ruse to which Balcom had been an accomplice, a case of espionage from within Gwen's own court. She shuddered at the thought.
Back in camp orders flowed from her with barely a thought, messengers dashing this way and that at her command. Emmanuel had to be laid to rest, the present Lords updated on the situation, but as for choosing a champion? Who among her people could stand against Morgana and be little more than cannon fodder?
Storming into her tent, she ordered her guards not to let anyone enter before pulling parchment and quill from a bag. Throwing them down on a table she tore the golden circlet from her brow and tossed it beside them before staring, frozen, at the empty page. She searched her mind for names, for anyone, and could conjure nothing. There was nobody.
She had to stop now because she couldn't see through the silver light blurring in her eyes. She dashed her hand against her hot eyelids to clear her vision, twice, before surrendering to the flow of emotion.
Pressing her wedding ring to her lips with trembling hands, it took a long time to gain control over her hitching breath.
My heart's prize, my beloved, what trouble have you gone and found this time? I do not know if I can save you from this.