This chapter is once again dedicated to Khalafani, who gave me so much I can use for this chapter. So I hope they enjoy how I concluded the trial ;p
X
Merlin Pendragon had been uncertain about the results he had wanted to see yielding in this trial, and uncertain about what the future would bring once the guilty parties punishment had been decided. He had been uncertain whether or not he should accept it when Julian had agreed to apologize for his crimes in exchange for being allowed to stay in the city. And to be honest, Merlin still didn't feel like he had entirely forgiven the man, he did try and have him killed off, so it wasn't exactly an easy thing to forgive and brush away. But he could comfort himself with the thought of the man being on probation due to Uther's ruling, and this meant he wouldn't be allowed to come within a certain amount of feet to Merlin. And best of all, it meant he had been reduced and demoted for the next year, unable to pull rank or throw his mis-perceived power around to those below him. That was what Merlin was worried about, a knight thinking those beneath them were only there to do what he wanted them to do. Merlin's hopeful, at least, that the next year will be fruitful in changing Julian's attitude and how he behaved. Even if he didn't care about the actual crime he just tried to pull against Merlin earlier this week, the knight at least cared about how his family was going to be affected. Merlin had seen that, clear as day, by the way Julian seemed to have decided to cut all ties with Bryon before he got dragged down by him.
And speaking of Bryon… the knight had been the most vocal about how much he disliked Merlin. Though perhaps dislike was too soft of a word. It seemed as if Bryon completely loathed, hated him with every fiber of his body, and would have tried to stab him multiple times during the trial in front of at least a dozen witnesses if he hadn't been held down for half the time. It wasn't surprising for Merlin when the other boy turned down his deal, doing everything but spitting in his face while he did it. Merlin wasn't entirely sure how he felt about having a man executed, and it being on his orders… had he really came that far in this whole consort business? Where he could have a man, even one that just tried to kill him, sentenced to death? Merlin wasn't somebody who sent people right to the chopping block, he was the one that had to avoid everything that would lead to him being ON that chopping block instead. But Bryon had done himself no favors, acting like a fool during the entire trial, acting as if he thought it was something to laugh about. It must have been nice, Merlin thought, to live a life so spoiled and privileged, that Bryon hadn't seen how screwed he was until he was officially sentenced by Uther.
Banishment…
Merlin felt as if that was something he could live with. Knowing that he would be able to see his life, and live it without the face of his trauma appearing just to torment him some more, was enough for him. He wouldn't have to feel as if he was carrying the soul of Bryon on his back if the man had been taken to his death. He was almost grateful when Uther decided to take over doing all of the official sentencing that had needed to be done. But the last thing he expected to get out of this was… everything Bryon had. Merlin was just content with the idea of moving on, but Uther had done one better, and declared every piece of land Bryon had was now going to be transferred into his name. The land, gold, servants, momentary items… all under the guise of being handed to him as his compensation. How had Merlin gone from seeking a simple apology, to being a landowner? Peasants like Merlin didn't own things like land, they either worked in the estate already built there, or lived in a small hut on a patch of land none of the nobles felt was worthy to be their home. But actually owning any kind of land… Merlin's head had been swimming when Uther had listed out everything that was going to be turned into him.
And all he had to do was be traumatized to get it.
An actual estate with a deed and a title was going to be delivered straight into his hands… he was going to own every piece of furniture, tapestry, vase and gold residing inside of it. He was going to have something that was entirely his own, something that wasn't brought to him because it belonged to Arthur, and was now therefore his. He would have been perfectly fine without such a large… reward, if one wanted to call it. But how could Merlin stop himself from asking himself… was it a big home? Was it a smaller version of the castle, just waiting for him to check it out? Would he be allowed to see it, or simply given information on it from afar if they refused to let him leave the city? Would his mother like to live there… could she live there?… What would Bryon's family say when they were informed they had lost everything? Those were the major questions, the ones that left him lost while the councilmen had been trying to question Uther about his decision. How could he be interested in something as this, when he knew other people had been kicked out of their home? Unlike Sir Bryon, who had lost the estate by his own rash behavior, his family did nothing to Merlin. They could even be lovely people, for all Merlin knew, who were now going to be forced to live desolate in another country, whatever fortune in their coffers gone within the blink of an eye.
Merlin had been more surprised than anybody who Uther casually dropped his relationship to his uncle into the conversation.
Maybe it was because they were family, but Merlin had never seen what other people saw when they looked at his uncle. When other people saw Gaius, they saw their kingdom's lead physician, the only one trusted enough to work with the royal family during times of health scares. The one Uther went to when he needed advice and every other resource had given him nothing he could work with. The only one that knew intimate details about the royal family that most of the council were not privy too. One of the view full trainer physcian's who's willing to treat anybody, whether they be of noble or common descent. It made him quite popular among his peers, but to Merlin… he had always been simply Uncle Gaius. Even when Merlin hadn't known who he was and spent half of his day wondering around this castle just trying to find his quarters, all he wanted was to meet his uncle. Him being the court physician was just a cool fact, that also happened to be the first concrete fact Merlin knew about him.
But that had changed over the months since Merlin had turned to his uncle to cling to in the absence of his mother. Gaius was the man that welcomed him in his home even when he was nothing more than a stranger who happened to be carrying similar family ties. He was the one that got Merlin's reading skills to a decent level, and who allowed him full access to his books, and taught him the few things Merlin was learning. His uncle was the one who gave Merlin a bit of purpose in his life, who wanted him not to be scared of his magic just like he'd caution against using it for his own safety. He fed Merlin from his own table or gave him cups of tea when he stayed up too late reading, and took care of him when he was so depressed he couldn't leave his bed. Gaius would stay up for hours and hours and hours just to make sure Merlin was still breathing during his sleep. He wasn't just a physician to Merlin, he was his uncle, who would do anything for him and ask for nothing in return. It hadn't even crossed Merlin's mind to tell people who he was related to during those first few months he had been in the city. Even Morgana and Gwen had found out about it by a complete accident.
But it was sometime after Arthur figured it out and freaked out on him—while Merlin was still recovering from saving his worthless life, might he add—did it start to dawn on him that other people might not think the same. And while he didn't actively hide who his uncle was, he had been more careful choosing his words the few times he spoke to somebody who wasn't in the know. Maybe he just didn't want all the attention that would come from a reveal such as that, or perhaps he was scared his entire life was going to change with the blink of an eye as new expectations were dropped onto his shoulders. And it had already changed things, the way he was being looked at with a keen interest instead of being dismissed without thought by the council. The way Uther started talking about lessons Merlin was going to have to be taught, how his uncle was going to need to teach him everything he needed to know if he didn't want to see the new land he owned falling to rubble around his feet. Merlin didn't know how to address this or how to move on as plans were made and sealed with his uncle offering input…it was a good thing his uncle had decided to accompany him to this trial.
He somehow hasn't stumbled over his words or tripped over his feet the entire time he had been addressing the court, but it felt as if something had shifted in the air once his heritage was out in the open. And his uncle had seemed to sense that, taking control and stopping the council from shouting a thousand or so different questions at him before they had the chance to start. Stopping them from confusing Merlin with their carefully worded lies, or demanding to know things like 'why weren't they informed about Merlin's ties to nobility from the start?' Questions that were officially none of their business, but they would have felt free to ask anyway, as if how Merlin conducted himself among his kin had one thing to do with any of them. Perhaps Merlin should've just curled into a ball and pretend he wasn't here, as he was prone to doing inside the safety of his room during the darker moments of his recent lifestyle. But he managed to stay on his feet, even as the room swam around him, feeling suddenly as if it was too wide and too open, with too many people filling it while also housing too many open spots in which somebody meaning to do him harm could hide.
He was almost grateful, in the end, when it was Bryon who disrupted them and the air around them, his shrieks ripping through the fog in Merlin's mind as if it was parchment paper.
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE! I WOULD NEVER HAVE DONE ANYTHING IF I KNEW HE WAS THE ONLY HEIR TO A REAL AND NOBLE FAMILY! THIS IS NOTHING MORE THAN A LIE, SOME TRICK JUST TO MAKE UTHER HARSHER ON US THEN HE WOULD HAVE! WE WOULE HAVE BEEN RELEASED WITH FULL PARDONS AND APOLOGIES IF YOU'D BEEN JUST A COMMON RAT AMONG THE TRASH!" Shrieked the man with this crazy in his eyes that promised Merlin would pay for somehow being good enough to find a way to deceive the great Uther Pendragon about his bloodline. But it struck Merlin with all the strength of a whip, because Bryon wasn't exactly lying, was he? Uther had never defended him the entire time he had been in the city, he'd done the exact opposite, in fact. He enjoyed ripping Merlin down and watching as he floundered about trying to succeed with whatever impossible task Uther wanted from him. But Uther had been on Merlin's side practically from the very start of this trial. Why was that? Because Uther knew who Merlin was, he knew what bloodline he came from, he was defending him just as he would defend a noble from his court. "WHY DON'T YOU TELL THEM THE TRUTH! HOW'D YOU MANAGE TO CONVINCE GAIUS TO GO ALONG WITH ALL OF YOUR DREADED LIES, YOU UTTER BASTARD! JUST LOOK AT YOU! I WOULD RATHER EAT MY OWN BLADE THAN BELIEVE YOU HAVE AN OUNCE OF NOBLE BLOOD INSIDE YOUR VEINS! FUCK! YOU MIGHT AS WELL COME CLEAN AND TELL ALL THE PEOPLE HERE YOU WERE PRACTICALLY BEGGING FOR US TO TAKE YOU OUT TO THE WOODS THAT DAY! YOU… YOU…"
Merlin's stomach clenched up tight as the horrid accusations spewed with so much venom from Bryon, so much hatred, that Merlin had only ever heard from Arthur during his worst of moods. But there was also something else that was there… something twisting inside of his stomach that burned red and hot until it started to feel dangerous to keep it inside of him. He begged him…? Bryon's going to stand there, in another pitiful attempt at reclaiming everything that is his by birthright, and try claiming Merlin had 'begged him' to do anything? As if Merlin hadn't been clinging—THE ENTIRE TIME—to life by the very scrape of his teeth. Bryon was nothing but this dirty and rotting liar, and he wasn't better than even Arthur fucking Pendragon. Trying to lay blame at Merlin's feel when it had been anything but… Merlin was done. Done with being looked at as if he was some kind of freak, done being screamed at as if he was some kind of odd crook. Bryon could scream himself hoarse, and demand everything go the way he thought this trial was supposed to go, but Merlin didn't want to listen to any of it anymore. With a newfound strength, Merlin pushed his shoulders back so he could stand taller than his slouched over form usually allowed.
"I already tried showing you mercy, and you threw my grace straight back into my face. I cannot help you anymore than I already tried. Now, you've made this bed for what it is, and now you have no choice but to lay in it."
Merlin's words had rung throughout the air with the same solemn ringing of a gong ringing throughout the room, and if Merlin thought Bryon had been mad before, it was nothing compared to how mad he seemed to be now. The other man's face seemed to be turning purple, and Merlin knew, as well as he knew that blood and magic both ran through every inch of his veins, that if Tristian and Dorian wasn't holding onto him, Merlin would have been dead. If they had loosened their grips for even a second, Bryon would have broken free just so he could gut Merlin right where he stood. But despite this, Merlin made sure to keep himself locked and sturdy, betraying none of the nervousness racing the length of his legs. He was better than his nerves, he was better than the ones looking at him as if his heritage somehow made him different than he was from before, and certainly better than a liar who thought he could scream and fuss until his reality returned to how he thought it should be.
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TALKING TO LIKE THAT! DO YOU THINK BEING RELATED TO ANYBODY OF IMPORTANCE WILL SUDDENLY GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BEHAVE HOWEVER YOU WANT! I'M KNIGHT BRYON OF CAMELOT! I HAVE CONQUERED BATTLES THAT YOU HAVE NOT EVER SEEN IN YOUR ENTIRE LIFE! I HAVE FOUGHT ENEMIES THAT WOULD HAVE EVEN YOU AND YOUR COCKINESS QUIVERING IN YOUR CHEAP BOOTS!" Bryon kept on screaming even as Dorian and Tristian started dragging him towards the doors of the chambers. Perhaps they were going to bring him back to the cells till he could be escorted to the border and released far away from Camelot. But the consort never took his eyes off the rabid man as he thrashed about in some ill-attempt to escape. Merlin breathed in sharply, feeling the sharpness that came with his anger being held in his lungs, and he breathed out, feeling every bit of his anger as it released into the air. "AND WHO ARE YOU TO STAND UP THERE AND ACT AS IF YOU ARE ANYTHING MORE THAN WHATEVER DIRTY PIT YOU CRAWLED OUT OF! WHO ARE YOU TO THINK YOU ARE ANYTHING THAT CAN BE TRULY SPECIAL JUST BECAUSE OF YOUR MARRIAGE! WHO ARE YOU TO THINK YOU CAN SPEAK TO A KNIGHT JUST BECAUSE YOU MIGHT—MIGHT—HAVE A SINGLE DROP OF NOBLE BLOOD, WHEN I HAVE NOBILITY ON BOTH SIDES OF MY FAMILY GOING BACK GENERATIONS!"
And something within Merlin started to whither and snap as Bryon and his two guards were nearing the door. Who was he, Bryon had asked him, the question Merlin has spent his entire life trying to ask himself? Exactly 'who was he? Was he Merlin, the nephew of the court physician whose drop of noble blood made him one of the nobles? Was he Merlin, this powerful sorcerer that's supposed to somehow bring magic back to the land? Was he Merlin Pendragon, the very same boy that was married to Camelot's Prince and meant to protect the ones who couldn't protect themselves because he was their consort. Or perhaps he was Merlin, the farm boy who had spent his entire life with his hands buried in the dirt trying to coax the potatoes and the carrots and the cabbages to grow into something edible. Was he Gaius's nephew, or was he Arthur's husband, or was he Magic's salvation, or… was he his mother's son? The kind Hunith who'd give a stranger the tunic right off her back if she thought they needed it more than she did. Or was he… was he just Merlin? A strange combination of all four aspects coming together inside of him, forming all parts of him, until it turned him into something that was entirely his own self of being. And when he could see Bryon starting to open his fat mouth once again, determined to get some form of a final word out before he could be taken away for good, he spoke up first.
"I am your CONSORT, my heritage and where I came from be damned. And you should have realized that before you tried to kill me."
Bryon's shrieking was indistinguishable as the doors finally slammed shut and blocked him from the rest of the room. The whole hall could hear the shrieking and the yelling coming from the other side as it got fainter and fainter when he got taken away. And when it was finally blissfully silent, when Bryon's shrieking no longer filled the air, the entire court was turning back around to look toward Merlin once again. Merlin held his breath until it felt as if his lungs were trying to burn him from the inside out, but he didn't release his breath even when he felt as if his lungs were about to combust. Not when he could feel the eyes of the council on him, the eyes of his uncle watching him worriedly, the sharp and sturdy stare of the king watching him with calculating eyes. And yes, even the eyes of his husband from somewhere behind him, so penetrating and so deep that it made the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stand on end from being the one watched with so much interest.
And Merlin couldn't help but wonder what everybody saw when they looked at him standing there in front of them all. Did they see him as the consort he was trying to become, the consort part of him that he had no choice but to accept and learn how to live with it? Did they really see him differently now that they knew he had that single vein of nobility lingering somewhere within his blood? Or was this fascination with him going to end the second they realized he was the same boy he was before they knew his connection to nobility? Was he the same boy he had been these last few weeks? Merlin liked to think he was, that nothing had changed from one day to the next, that his biggest worry was still how he dealt with getting his healing and life back on track. But there was this …something… inside of him, in his soul, that perhaps told him different. Maybe he wasn't four separate parts of a whole each vying to become this dominant part inside of him. Maybe he was Camelot's consort, but maybe he was all of those other parts as well.
Maybe it was okay to be everything at once.
"Well, well, well, I suppose you have all heard our consort speaking. Perhaps other people from now on will be hesitant before they try and kill him outside our front door. Don't you think so as well, gentlemen of the court?" spoke the king once the silence had dragged on for far too long, and one by one, those of the court slowly nodded. Even Julian, standing on the side with a stupefied expression on his face—if he hadn't spoken up when he had, he would've been dragged out of the room just as Bryon had been—was slowly nodding his head to the king and the consort both. "Perhaps we should show our consort a little appreciation for making sure we cleaned our ranks of the miscreants that were willing to assault a nobleman. As our consort said, he tried to show this man a bit of mercy, though he didn't deserve it. That right there deserves even grace from the council, do you not agree?"
There was a long pause once again, this time in which it seemed as if Merlin's finally not the only one who was lost on what to do next. The council shared a few glances, before one of them started to clap. And as if following their lead, the rest of the council started to clap one by one. But it was a slow clap, a kind that was mechanical and uncertain, probably as uncertain as Merlin was about what the future was going to bring once he left this room. And as the clapping continued, the whispers among them started to follow. Merlin heard his name being mentioned several times, but he heard it becoming adjourned with other words… Merlin the Just. Merlin the Merciful. So similar, but so different when the people had been calling him Merlin… the savior.
But with Arthur's eyes still causing his skin to prickle from uncertainty…
He started to breathe again.
X
It was a good few hours after the trial of Knights Julian and Bryon came to an end that Arthur Pendragon finally managed to track down where his father had gone after the group had departed and went their separate ways. He found his father standing outside on his grand balcony that overlooked Camelot, looking out at both the city and the sun steadily going down, leaving the city in shades of darker blues and purples. He hovered in the doorway for the longest of time just watching his father standing there, his lips pressing into a this tight line as he observed his father, waiting to see whether or not the king would be willing to acknowledge his presence there at all. There were so many things that he'd been wanting to tell his father after the trial ended, so many things he wanted to demand of him. He had wanted to talk to Merlin more though, and had been torn between following each of the two. But knowing Merlin wouldn't want him there—to ask if he was okay, and if he pleased with how the trial had gone, and if he was angry about how certain other things had gone—had sealed Arthur's decision to follow his father. But here he stood, tethering on the edge, asking himself if his father would even entertain him or send him away.
"I do hope that you do not plan to stand there in the doorway for the rest of the night. I thought I taught you better than to just stand there and not saying anything, it's quite rude to just hang around hovering when there is something you clearly wish to say." Called Uther, not looking back to where Arthur's been standing there silently, watching his father observing the way the sky turned a more startling shade of orange as the sun started to fall behind the sky. Arthur pressed his lips together, he never had been able to sneak up on the king, not even when he was a boy. His father always had a sort of… sixth sense for these kinds of things. "You know that I do not like to have my time wasted because I am a very busy man. So I do ask you either come in and spit it out, or leave me to do what I was previously doing. This kingdom isn't going to watch itself with you trying to distract me from my task."
Arthur pressed his lips together even thinner, until it felt like they were only a little thin line that could disappear at any moment. How could his father stand there and just act so nonchalant, as if everything was alright within his perfect little world. His father wasn't doing anything of importance! He was only taking a look out at the city and marveling at everything he had done to change it into the city that it was today, something he did every other week when he needed the boost to his ego. But what work could his father possibly be doing with his ego right now? Didn't Uther already feel as if he was on top of the entire damn world, without a single care about what happened after he had left the council rooms and the people behind in them. Merlin wouldn't even look at him, or any of the council, when he left with Gaius. Though then again, Merlin never would look at him these days. Arthur couldn't really blame him… he would've torn his sweet angel apart in a second if he had ever gotten his hands on him. Arthur is a brute, and an evil man, who shouldn't even get to bask in the presence of his consort on a good day. Yet alone get to talk to him during a bad one. But today Arthur had somebody else he could blame for once, even if that man was also the father he had spent his whole life striding to please. Arthur stepped inside the room fully as his father commanded, the balcony door closing behind him with a gentle thud to accompany the not-so-gentle beat of his heart.
"How could you do that?"
Arthur's voice had been hushed, as he struggled to contain himself and all of his emotions from releasing on his father like a tsunami crashing against the rocky shores of a beach. He didn't understand how his father could just come out here and stand there as if everything was right in the world, as if he hadn't practically thrown Merlin to the wolves that were the council, and then left him to navigate it on his own. Yes, Gaius had gotten Merlin out of the room before any of the council could approach and try to sink their greedy claws into that boy's pale and luminous skin, but that wasn't the point! The King had gone and revealed things that had not been his to reveal! And then acted as if he had no care in the world about it! Arthur still stressed himself out thinking about each and every incident he had ever had with Merlin, getting to the point where he'd been yanking his own hair out of his skull as he cried over the tiniest insults he never should have said. He was surprised he wasn't walking around sporting a good dozen or so bald spots, as a physical sign for the penance he still had to give to Merlin, should the day come where he would ever accept such a thing from him. But his father did nothing more than look at him, raising an eyebrow as if Arthur needed to be more specific about what he was talking about, and this made Arthur's blood stir with restless abandonment, until he was stepping forward without thinking about it, the words bursting from his mouth in a way he never would have spoken to his father before.
"How could you go and tell the entire council what Merlin's heritage was, as if being related to our physician and being the last of his line?! Did you even ask Merlin, or Gaius for that matter, if they were okay with you telling those people that kind of information! People have been killed for less things, and now you are putting Merlin front and center in front of the entire council!" Arthur said in a wickedly sharp voice, throwing his arms out rapidly, and the entire time, the king simply watched him and that made Arthur more agitated. Did Uther really have no idea what kind of chaos was going to be leaked out into the world as they figured out who Merlin was? Merlin had been in danger before, when he was only Arthur's consort. Hell, he had been in danger from Arthur himself just because he was Arthur's consort. But now… now Merlin wasn't going to simply fly by unnoticed not that the council had their sights on him. Now that they all knew there was a hint of nobility in Merlin's bloodline, that suddenly meant his consort had real potential in their eyes. It meant they weren't going to just go and leave Merlin alone until they had broken him down and transformed him to somebody neither Merlin nor Arthur wanted him to be. Arthur had already tried that route, and he had almost succeeded, though he thanked God every single day that he had failed. There was nothing about Merlin that he needed to have changed, absolutely nothing. But the council wouldn't see it that way, and they were a much stronger force than Arthur ever was. Arthur had always tried and used physical force to scare and taunt Merlin into doing what he wanted, but the council would go deeper and try to get into his head. They would try their damn hardest to manipulate Merlin gradually, to guilt him into shame whenever he did something they didn't like, until Merlin was so far gone that he wouldn't realize how much he had started to change just to please them. But Arthur was here, and he wouldn't allow that to happen. Not even if he had to carve out his own bloody heart with a rusted blade just to prove to Merlin that he was going to make them leave him alone, no matter what it took. Even if he needed to go through his bloody father to do it. "You and I both have seen what the council is capable of when they feel like they have the right to something that doesn't belong to them. Don't you remember what happened to Misses Clarke. To this day she refuses to step inside the city for fear that they will remember her and try enforcing their agenda onto that poor woman! Do you want what happened to her to happen to Merlin?"
Arthur shook his head, disgust coating his every word as he remembered that terrible incident that happened just five years ago. Arthur hadn't even been a legal adult, and could do nothing to stop it when Mistress Clarke came to their kingdom to plead for help from his father. Mistress Clarke had been this noble girl only a few years older than Arthur himself was at the time, but she was all alone in the world. She came to the king asking for sanctuary after her home had been raided and attacked, the ruthless thieves and bandits killing off her parents right before her eyes. It had only been sheer luck that she managed to escape into the woods and lost them long enough for her to be found by some Camelot knights patrolling a few miles away. That was how she ended up being the last of her bloodline, still unmarried and without any brothers or sisters to carry on the family name and legacy. Just like Merlin, the last of his bloodline without any brothers or sisters to carry on the Whytt name, and being married to Arthur, no chance of resurrecting the old family unless the council tried and do something stupid. They would probably go to Arthur first and ask for him to give permission as Merlin's husband, but when he said no—and damn it, Arthur was always going to say no to what they wanted—they would probably try and go over his head to get what they wanted.
The bloodline restored.
Perhaps they would wait a year, maybe even two if they were lucky, before any of them tried pushing something like that. Even Arthur figured it would be too classless of them to suggest something like that within the first year they were married. But there would come a time in which they would try and demand that Merlin do his 'duty' and bring more Whytt's into the world. Arthur's known that he would have to do it someday—bed a woman—so that he could have heirs to carry on the Pendragon name. He had accepted it as a fact of his life, but for it to be Merlin forced under the same situation? It made him sick to his stomach, the acid in his belly churning until he wanted to throw it all up on his expensive boots just to get it out of him. The idea of Merlin being forced to lay down and have his first time with some random woman that the council picked who was a 'good match' for him, made him want to burn the entire foundation that the council had been built on down to the bloody ground, taking them down with it. Merlin was bloody gay, he wouldn't find pleasure with a woman in his bed…it would be like he was being raped. Only it would have been a different method from how Arthur would have… would have… would have done it.
And if Merlin didn't play by their rules and go alone with it, the councilmen was very much liable to do something to force him. That's what they did to the lady Clarke. The council had came together and told the mistress that Camelot was willing to house her for her own safety and protection from the bandits if they ever came after her, but in return, Mistress Clarke would have to give them the next ten years of her life. And each one of those years, she would need to end up pregnant by a different man of their choosing, men who were also the last of their bloodlines or needed an heir because their wife barren. Arthur had not heard such colorful language coming from the lips of a lady until that day, and she had stormed out of this council with her head held high, refusing to be any kind of broodmare to be used for men. She had returned home and everything had worked out for her, the last Arthur heard. The bandits had already left and to this day, she still remained unmarried and childish, likely carrying out some kind of silent 'fuck you' for what the council tried to do to her. But the councils also had five years to work on their approach for the next opportunity and who knows what they might tell Merlin to get him to agree. Perhaps they would try and threaten Gaius in some way to get Merlin's compliance… no. No chance in hell was something like that ever going to happen on his watch. Perhaps those councilmen have had an additional five years to allow their power to go to their heads, but Arthur's had five years to grow as well.
And he would burn them all.
"Calm yourself, Arthur. I have no intentions of allowing what happened to Lady Clark be repeated with your consort. Honestly, do you truly believe that I have done anything in my life without thinking of the consequences and how it can change things around here?" Uther asked, cutting through the red-hot anger that was threatening to swallow Arthur whole at the mere THOUGHT of some random woman sliding her hands down Merlin's pale and naked chest until she was able to grip something longer that dangled between his legs, struggling to make it hard enough to where it could impregnate her. His consort skittish and shying away as he blinked with wide, doe-eyes, her touch way too gentle and too soft to help get him anywhere. "You should know me better than that these days, Arthur. I choose to reveal the little secret your consort was holding onto because I believed it will benefit life here in Camelot. Don't you remember… at one point a few months ago, I told you that I believed Merlin had the potential to become one of the greatest consorts our kingdom has ever had. Do you not remember that conversation?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes harshly, trying to breathe through the fire struggling to clog up his throat, doing everything he could to stop himself from yelling at his father. From shrieking, 'YES! You would do something without thinking for a second what the consequences might be! Or did you forget I was married to that pure and innocent boy that had to live in utter torment for months simply because you didn't think about the consequences.' He swallowed those horrid words down, knowing it would do nothing to bring that up to his father now. It would only cause more drama than Arthur was interested in stirring up tonight, and his father would never admit he was wrong to force Merlin to come here to play his part in their political games. Instead, he had to think long and hard on what his father had asked him… he couldn't remember his father ever actually saying Merlin could be some great consort. In fact, he remembered his father often cursed having Merlin in their family now, deeming him important enough to stand in the background of their royal functions, but not important enough to be tended to like he should be. But… there was an itching in Arthur's brain as he struggled to recall a particular conversation that had happened long ago in their past, during a time in which Arthur was still convinced the worse thing to ever happen in his life was the day Merlin came into it. God, how all things have changed since those days.
"I do seem to recall a different conversation, when I was sitting at the dinner table in front of a man that would assault my consort and later try to have me killed the very next day. And you told Valiant, not me, that you thought Merlin had the potential." Arthur said bluntly, correcting his father as he remembered one of the few times his father had ever said anything nice about Merlin. He is almost able to remember what happened as if it had happened yesterday, back when Valiant was the one who liked to put hands on Merlin more than Arthur's had the chance to do so. It happened during that stupid dinner, just the night before he was supposed to fight Valiant and all of the fighters in the tourney had gotten together to dine with the king. Merlin had told Arthur what Valiant had been doing the next day, and that was the first major explosion Merlin had caused within their life, though it would hardly be the last. "And if I remember that conversation right, you were only telling Valiant that because you thought it would placate him when he started asking questions about Merlin. It's not as if you actually believed Merlin would do something special, or blow past any of the low expectations we originally had for him."
Uther seemed to wave him off, his face dismissive as if Arthur was telling him a story rather than what truly happened. It made Arthur feel as if he may start burning from the inside out, the fire bursting anger in his veins flaring to life in a way that was getting harder and harder to contain. His father had such LOW expectations for Merlin even before the boy had been introduced to them, and to be honest, Arthur probably had even lower expectations that his father had for him. But just look at how much Merlin had accomplished in the last four or so months since he'd been here, it felt like more than Arthur had accomplished in his entire damn life as Prince of this kingdom. Just a few weeks ago, Arthur probably would have been jealous about this fact. His insides ripping apart as Merlin tore down every expectation they had for him brick by brick, and rebuilt it in the image he wanted. But not now. Not after knowing how much that little angel has managed to accomplish even when he was carrying so much strain and heartache and abuse on his frail little shoulders. No… Arthur was almost damn PROUD to be the husband of a man who could face such odds and still be kept standing. Greatest consort this kingdoms ever had… try the greatest consort this entire world has ever seen. And Arthur wanted to be there to see it happen, god did he want to, if only Merlin would allow him the chance just to stand in his shadow.
"Perhaps you should think about this less emotionally and more politically. You have bonded with the boy, I suppose that happens considering he managed to save your life last month, but you need to put that aside and think about how I can work something like this to our advantage. Just ask yourself… what reason would I have for allowing the boy to speak up and take command during most of the trial?" Uther asked him, and Arthur's brows furrowed together until they were in the center of his forehead, working through what his father had said to him. Yes… perhaps Arthur had bonded to Merlin in a strange sense or the word after everything had happened with the goblet last month, but it was the kind of bond that only existed in his head. Arthur would give anything in the world if he could just… be a plant. A simple plant that got to spend each and every day of his little plant life basking under the glow of Merlin's life, thriving every time Merlin deemed him important enough to so much as give him a single second of his attention. But Arthur was pretty sure his father cared less about Arthur's 'bond' with Merlin, and more about… "C'mon, Arthur. You really need to make sure your head stays out of the clouds and focus. Today was an important day in Camelot's history, though few will actually know it. I needed the councilmen to see your consort in action, something they were only able to do once they were aware of his heritage. Today's events… might push your consort into this whole different direction than what I had originally planned for him."
There was something about those words that made Arthur go still, not liking the idea of his father 'making plans' that involved his consort without telling Arthur about them. Or liking that he had done all of this—told Merlin's secret—just so Merlin could be turned into some kind of… show horse for those on the council. Merlin was a man, a sweet and innocent man that had the strongest and bravest heart out of anybody Arthur had ever met in all his life. He could just think back to how Merlin had behaved today, and it caused tingles to go down his spine as the hair on the back of his arms stood on end, mingling with the goosebumps that were already there. He had gotten a first row seat to how Merlin had managed to put Bryon's head beneath his heel, and squashed him into nothingness, all without touching a single finger to the former knight. That image was practically burned into Arthur's retinas, something he could picture day in and day out and never get tired of. Something he could see in his head, as Merlin behaved as if he was always meant to be standing in such a position of power. The councilmen knew that now though, and it left something wild in Arthur's chest—threatening to burst free and wreck damage across the world—at the idea of the council trying to exploit whatever they had seen in Merlin tonight.
"Perhaps I should have seen it before I was informed about his connection to our very own consort. There were many signs in where your consort's strength lay… the way he approached things with that knight that tried to kill you. And the way he bargained for the life of that serving girl. And the way he managed to convince Bayard our kingdom was still worth making peace with. But I admit that I was too blinded by his… outer appearance and peasant demeanor to see past what he can do." Spoke the king, and Arthur jolted with visible surprise at these words. When had his father… Arthur could not remember when the last time was that he heard his father he was wrong… about anything. He had been taught his entire life that a king needed to be decisive, to make his choice and stick by them, lest the people start thinking him fickle if he went changing his mind at a moment's notice. The fact that Uther would admit he was wrong just now, about Merlin of all things, was surreal. And almost made Arthur feel as if he had just been dropped into some kind of alternative universe in which Uther was not such a… hard arse, as he was. "Your consort has great potential to be a master in political advantages. He knows what to say, and says them earnest enough, that people have been listening. And his heritage will open many more doors for him, and subsequently, for us. Perhaps if things had gone differently, and your consort had been raised by Gaius from the start, he would've already made a proper name for himself. He could have been a diplomat or chancellor, perhaps even invited to join as a member of the council once the men start to step down to allow new faces to join. But alas, we cannot go back and change his past. We can only move forward and make sure that boy sticks to this path we have put him on. There's no telling what catastrophe will happen next, that could be resolved with whatever natural skills he somehow possesses. And he will now be under Gaius' tutelage, and we will all be better off for it. Now that Merlin will have the Whytt family name attached to ours, people will start and see his importance. He is better off being a Whytt-Pendragon, than he's ever been as a peasant boy."
Arthur swallowed hard… so that was it, that was his father's big plan, being all but written out before Arthur's very eyes. Uther was trying to erase part of his consort's identity, he was trying to bury down Merlin's peasant roots. The part of him that Merlin clung onto with all the desperation in the world. Perhaps his father was hoping, if given enough time, people would start to forget that the boy had ever been raised in a peasant household. Perhaps Uther was trying to forge Merlin into some kind of noble, one that could stand equal with someone like Arthur. The kind of person Merlin would have became if his mother hadn't taken him and ran, denying him the noble education he would've gotten once he was old enough. This was supposed to be a good thing, something the both of them had wanted ever since Merlin walked into the castle that faithful day. It was everything ARTHUR had ever wanted, to forge his consort into becoming whoever it was that Arthur wanted him to be. It was only right for his father to find Merlin's natural talents and use them to better their position. But Arthur's seen the light, and things were different now… Arthur was different now.
"He was already important."
The words were so quiet and hushed, that Arthur was sure his father had been unable to hear them at all. But those words were important, they resonated so deeply inside of Arthur, that it felt as if Merlin's… everything was being carried into his heart. Pressed against the red muscle until Arthur felt as if he was the one that had been branded by Merlin's… everything. There was never going to be another person in Arthur's life, no matter who he met in the future, that was going to make an impact on his life bigger than Merlin has. Nobody who could make Arthur desperate enough to pull out his own hair, angry enough that he'd be quaking in his boots, terrified enough that he would go to the very ends of the earth just to make sure those blue eyes kept their spark. Nobody else was going to make Arthur defy his own father just for their well-being, nobody else would have been enough to make Arthur turn against his own noble brother-in -arms, nobody else that Arthur would fight so hard for just to get a hint of the smiles Merlin showed other people. And all of that was because of who Merlin WAS. His peasant roots and everything Arthur had once despised… they were not something they should be ashamed of, or something that his father felt the need to hide. Everything Merlin was now, had to come from somewhere. And it was most likely that somewhere came from the life Merlin's lived, both before he came to Camelot and the life he's lived ever since arriving.
"Yes, well now there'll be undeniable proof that your consort is able to become somebody important, especially after we see what becomes of the land he has now been given. If it flourishes, it will only make him shine in the eyes of those on the council, and will encourage them to find a proper use for him. And if he fails, well then…" Uther shrugged casually, as if he wasn't setting things up for them—the royal family—to come out with their hands clean no matter what will befall the land being transferred into Merlin's name. "There's a reason that I've decided to pass the land onto him specifically, instead of taking the chance to claim this land under the Pendragon family. I, personally have no use for such a piece of land, and neither would you. Heaven forbid the people believe that our family am trying to lay claim on one noble land after another, usurping all those who have actual family ties to their land. And we could hardly past the land onto Morgana… she'll be married, someday. And the land would've gone straight to her husband, whoever that might be. No… Merlin was the one that was damned, so it's only right to see him prove himself once again."
It was another test, just one more in the endless stream of tests Uther's been putting on Merlin ever since he showed up at their door, Arthur realized with a stomach lurching horror. His father wanted to push the envelope, and see how much he could manage to get out of Merlin and his 'political mind.' If Merlin is able to keep the land afloat, and not run it into the ground, then it will give his father reason to keep Merlin close. The land itself was just another way for his father to keep Merlin tied to Camelot, by burdening him with responsibilities so that he doesn't get any silly ideas about trying to run off. Binding Merlin more and more and more, the Whytt family name and the land being nothing besides invisible chains linking about Merlin's throat and limbs. So similar to the chains Arthur currently had tucked away beneath his bed, out of sight and unable to mar Merlin's pale flesh. But the similarities between them made bile burn with heat in the back of Arthur's throat, and it was a struggle for him to swallow it back down before his father noticed it. Or notice how pale and clammy his skin had turned since he had came out here.
"Now, Arthur. I know that I wasn't exactly pleased about the news when I heard you had Julian and Bryon arrested on the words of your consort. We, as nobles ourselves, do need to protect our own lest the lies and accusations of those in common bloodlines try to destroy us. But as it turns out, everything appears to be working out and falling into pieces I couldn't have imagined they would." his father said easily, apparently not noticing his son hadn't spoken in quite some time. His father seemed to take Arthur's silence as an agreement to everything he was saying, but Arthur felt nauseous as his father reached out and cupped his shoulder, squeezing it as if they were sharing something important for the both of them. As if this was some kind of proud father and son moment that he has been denied of having practically his entire life. "I understand that there's been many times where I have been angry with you, many moments I probably wish I could take back if I could. I suppose having you locked in the dungeons after you ran away to fetch Merlin that cure he needed was a bit too much, but we cannot change the past. Only look towards the future. And you, my one and only heir, have done better with the circumstances of your marriage than I ever thought you would be capable of. You've been acting appropriately to keep the Pendragon name from being tarnished, and have done what you could to keep your consort safe just to stop Gaius from becoming angry with us. Perhaps I'll stop pressuring you so much, and allow you to handle your consort as it is that you see fit."
There was a proud glimmer in Uther's eyes, as if he was ecstatic by the good fortune Arthur had brought them by going out of his way to make sure his little consort was safe and sound. His father's words made it sound as if it had been Arthur's plan this entire time, as if he had alternative reasons for doing all that he's been doing, and not one of those reasons included his desperate need to make sure Merlin never got hurt another day in his life. Not even if it was from something as small as a thumbtack stabbing Merlin's finger. But this was way worse than a bead of blood forming on Merlin's thumb after having an accident in Gaius' workspace. Merlin—his Merlin—was caught. Trapped within a political web being weaved and created by his father, and on some level, by Arthur too. He could do nothing more than nod his head, his throat convulsing as the king gave his shoulder one more squeeze before departing, disappearing inside the castle to retire for bed..
Arthur didn't know how long he stayed out there, it could have been minutes or it could have been hours. He just knew, when he finally snapped back into himself, the sky had darkened enough that a thousand little stars had started dotting the sky, twinkling down at him as if he was something worthy of being given their attention. As if he was somebody worthy of being married to that dark angel of his, who could very well be looking up at the same stars from his window at his uncle's. And imagining… imagining Merlin and him, who he had failed time and time again, and still somehow failed to keep separated from his father's agenda, could be staring up at the same sky, was enough to push him over the edge.
He exploded.
Vomit greener than the grass itself came spewing out of his mouth, clogging up his throat and the smell stinging in his nose until he felt as if he could end up choking under the pressure. Large gunks of what had been bits and pieces of his earlier lunch sliding across the very balcony that his father would stand upon almost daily, staining the stone and making it unclean for a king. But the prince couldn't stop the bile from coming up, nor did he have anywhere to go. And even when he was done, even as his body trembled and shook the same way a newborn kitten would, Arthur found no relief under the taunting twinkle of the stars light.
X
Lancelot NoLastName, on the morning after the trial that ended with a proud nobleman convicted and charged and sentenced, stood on top of the large hill that led to the Northern gates of Camelot. It was bright and early this morning and very few people were actually milling about, so it gave Lancelot peace and quiet as he silently worked on packing up his steed. His horse had been given to him as a gift, if one wanted to call it that, from the king and had been given to him only this moment. Many would have seen it as something generous, and quite the gift to hand over to a non-noble, as thanks for ridding the kingdom of the beast that plagued it. But Lancelot was convinced Uther had only gave the beast to him because he wanted him out of the kingdom as soon as he could be, riding far away until the kingdom was nothing more than a speck whenever he looked over his shoulder. But no matter, Lancelot had known for quite some time that his days here in Camelot was numbered, he was simply grateful with all the time he did have here.
The former knight tugged on a few more strings, making sure his meager bag was attached to the horse's rump properly, and wasn't going to fall whenever he started to ride in earnest. The morning sun was hot on his back, which was exaggerated by his former knight uniform, the one that Gwen had created with him in mind back when he had been pretending to be somebody that he would never be. Perhaps it was in bad taste, to wear something that had helped him fool his way into the royal courts of Camelot, but Lancelot wore it with all the pride in the world anyway. Because the most lovely lady in the world had made it for him with her own two hands, and it was probably the only thing he would be allowed to take from her with him to the other side of those gates. Besides the memories of her gentle hands against him as she measured him, the sweet tone of her voice as she showed her inner strength by sharing secrets with the same breath she defended others with, the taste of her lips as Lancelot all but fell into temptation for her. The last few days he got to spend with her, getting to know her without the pressures of the world around them telling them that it wouldn't be long before they were separated, had been glorious.
Lancelot had almost forgotten this was the last day he would be allowed in the city.
But Lancelot liked to think he was okay with that, or at least, it was what he's been telling himself. He had only been here for a single week, but that entire week had been… something else… from the very moment he arrived. He felt as if he was a different man, somewhat stronger and more confident with himself than he had been before his arrival. When he had still been self-conscious and holding onto a dream he didn't know would be possible to see completed. Now maybe it didn't work out the way Lancelot wished it had, but—the warrior gave one last alrighty tug to secure the single bag he was bringing with him—but he has had so many experiences since coming here. And he wouldn't have traded any of them, even if it meant becoming a knight. There were some things more important, Lancelot had learned, than striving for one thing. It's many different things that made a man who they were, and they shouldn't be defined by one simple part of themselves. He WAS a knight, deep in his soul, even if he wasn't one for real, but he was so much more still. Merlin had taught him it was okay to have different parts of oneself… the consort who was more than a consort… something cracked behind him.
A branch of some sort snapping in half as if it had been stepped on, and the warrior bit back a smile without looking back. He had known he wouldn't be able to leave without being ambushed. It would've been better, perhaps, if he had managed to leave the city the same way he had arrived. Unassuming and unimportant to the people who already lived here. It would have been easier to ride out of those gates without the teary cries that came when saying goodbye to somebody you didn't know you would ever see again. But, perhaps that was okay as well. After all, it could very well be the last opportunity Lancelot had to see if his friend again, unless he was lucky enough for the fates to allow their paths to cross again someday.
"Merlin, you do know that I snuck out of your uncle's this morning for a reason, don't you? But of course you do, and that's why you followed me down here. I see, you were going to get your goodbye one way or another, weren't you?" he asked, as he turned around with an easy going—if somewhat sad—smile on his face. And true enough, Merlin Pendragon was standing there, just as Lancelot knew he would be. But Merlin's head was bowed, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat, lightly scuffing at the dirt beneath him with his boot. The warrior's smile dimmed a little, sadness creeping into his eyes. It seemed that he was not the only one sad about his leaving. Hell, him and Gwen had spent half the night just the evening before holding onto each other, terrified about what it would mean for them when they departed. Figures, he would meet the girl of his dreams only to be forced to let her go because of the distance that would separate them. But his farewell to Guinevere had been last night, it was only right Lancelot took this time to focus on the one man who'd done… more for him than anybody else. "We didn't get to talk when I got in last night, you were already in bed, I mean. So, how did the trial go? I mean, I know Julian's got to live with probation, and Bryon is going to be escorted out of the city at some point tonight. But… how do you feel about it? Did it go the way you were wishing it would?"
Lancelot wished he could have been there to watch what he was sure would've been a very interesting event, but he was sure his presence would've agitated the king. And Lancelot hadn't wanted to do anything that might take attention away from what they were all actually there for. He had been lucky enough to grant a strong enough pardon to stay within the castle walls to set his affairs in order—say his goodbyes and all—so he hadn't wanted to push his luck when his time left here had already been so precious. But he would have stood right at Merlin's side if his friend had needed him to, not that Merlin needed him to do anything. A man who could hide right beneath the king's nose without him causing any suspicion on what he could do, could easily look two knights who had wronged him in the eyes. Hell, Lancelot wished he could stand by Merlin's side for the rest of his days, watching his back and doing the rougher stuff just so Merlin wouldn't risk himself being caught if he had to use magic to defend himself from… any foe that was unwise enough to try and take him on. Little as Lancelot knew about magic, he knew Merlin had some power behind his spells.
"It went good, actually, really good. Probably not the exact way I was hoping it would but I can't say I'm displeased with the results. Yeah, Julian managing to stick around, but who knows, perhaps this whole experience freaked him out just enough to cause him to turn over a new lead. But I suppose only time will tell on that one." Merlin spoke, with a rueful smile, his eyes starting to glimmer just a bit with the spark of light Lancelot liked to see. Just because Lancelot's leaving, didn't mean they had to be depressed about it. They could have their time here… together… and carry this memory with them wherever they went in the future. Lancelot sure knew he wasn't going to forget Merlin anytime soon, not even when he was old and gray and had lived his life to the fullest, being pleased with himself for being allowed to touch Merlin's presence just once in his lifetime. Fulfilling himself with listening to the rumors of Merlin's deeds in the future that would spread across the entire kingdom, and perhaps even out of it as well. "I mean, I went up there and said my piece and everything, but it wasn't even needed all that much. Apparently Bryon's way more spoiled and entitled than even I thought he was. With that silver spoon he's had inside his mouth since the day he was born, he literally talked himself into a much bigger sentence. He's in a jail cell right now waiting for them, and his family will have the week to… get themselves together and vacate the land before the guards arrive. Did I mention Bryon lost their family land? I think that's something I had to have mentioned… but, uh, yeah. Apparently it's going to be mine now, so I'll have to see how that goes…"
Merlin shrugged, this awkward little shrug, as if he hadn't just dropped some major news onto Lancelot's head. The consort smiled at him sheepishly when Lancelot's eyes grew rounded and large… land? Merlin was going to have an actual piece of land attached to his name? That was… that was something. It definitely wasn't something Lancelot would ever be able to achieve. Camelot City had always been his goal, so he'd spent the last decade of his life moving from place to place to place, never finding anywhere he felt he could settle in at for longer than a few weeks. Lancelot still didn't know where he was going to go now that Camelot didn't work out, but at least he could continue on with his nomadic lifestyle until he found… something else that could replace his one big dream. But Lancelot wouldn't even know what he would do if he owned any kind of land, nor would he know what he could fill it up with.
"That's… that's amazing, Merlin. I didn't realize you were going to be able to get something more from them than just them being punished. Do you have any plans on what you would like to do with it? I mean, if it's going to be yours then surely that means you can make some changes to it, right? Considering Bryon's pretty high up in the nobility crowd though, it would probably have to be pretty big, so you'll have a lot of space…" Lancelot trailed off as he started to realize he was probably inputting himself too much in Merlin's business just now. It felt as if Lancelot was interrogating him or something, which isn't what Lancelot had been going for. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just curious about seeing what you would do with it. I'm sure you've got plenty of ideas running about in your head, so don't let me interrupted them. Though it would be pretty cool to see it sometime."
Lancelot could feel the heat rising to his face when he realized it sounded as if he was fishing for some kind of invitation to come see it. Which he hadn't been doing, because for all he knew, Merlin was ready to move on with his life while putting his little 'adventure' here with Lancelot behind him. Merlin might be far more tired of Lancelot than he was of Merlin. Though… Lancelot couldn't help but allow his thoughts to wonder to somewhere forbidden. King Uther had him banished from the city, and once he left today, he wouldn't be allowed to come back through those gates. But Lancelot wasn't banished from the kingdom as a whole, so perhaps Bryon's old family land was somewhere Lancelot would be able to go without breaking his banishment. He could come and see his friend whenever he wanted to, drop by for visits every time he was passing this way, check in on Merlin just to make sure Arthur hadn't fallen off the deep end and tried to hurt him again. Maybe Merlin wouldn't be there every time he passed by, but he wouldn't mind stopping by just to see if this was the week that the consort decided to visit. If Merlin wanted him too, of course. Lancelot wouldn't want to overstay his welcome, he had probably already done that by staying in Gaius' home for as long as he had.
"No, you're fine, Lancelot. I guess this whole situation is pretty surreal. I mean, me? A landowner? Something that's just mine and Arthur had no claim to? I did not expect that. But I honestly have… no clue what I'm supposed to do about it or what I'm even interested in doing. But Gaius is supposed to teach me a few things about land ownership and such, show me things I could actually use the property for, and what I can do to keep it running so it's not just sitting around collecting dust while I'm not there. But…" here is where Merlin paused, this red hue brimming on his cheeks as if he was worried about Lancelot expecting him to have something big planned, big enough to overturn whatever the land was being used for now. Perhaps there was a farm on the outskirts, or those who'd been living there were ranking in money from other sources. "I hope someday I could maybe get my mother to move into it. I don't know if she'll be allowed to return to Camelot someday, or if she'll even be willing to leave our home, but it would be much closer so I can see her whenever I wanted. Apparently it's only a day's ride from here, according to Gaius. It would be nice to see my mother settled into it, becoming the lady of the house or something so she won't have to break her back everyday working the fields. But… that's just a pipe dream to be honest. She hasn't exactly been welcomed in Camelot, since, well… since I was born, I guess."
Merlin shook his head as if he was being stupid for having such a silly dream of his own, but Lancelot knew all about having dreams that other people would think was silly or unattainable. And look at him now. Lancelot had came close—so close—to his dream that he had touched it, had been able to get a glimpse at what his future would like, all while being under Merlin's command. Lancelot had literally been terrified of telling other people about his dream, because he was sure the day would never come in which he actually had his chance. But it had happened for him, no matter how brief it was. And if Lancelot was able to make it this far, then he knew Merlin's dream was inevitable. If his mother was wanting to move closer to her son, then one way or another, they would make it work. Merlin deserved a little happiness in his life, and if his mother gave him that happiness, then Lancelot himself would have loved to meet her. The older woman who had raised Merlin into the kind and considerate man he was.
"Don't give up on that dream too soon, Merlin. I'm sure if anybody can get the king to see reason and allow you to see your mother, then I'm sure you can do it. You've already gotten him to punish two noblemen, so really, how hard can it be to extend your luck towards your mother?" Lancelot joked, though really, the two of them already knew convincing Uther to do something like that was probably a bit more complicated than what he'd done with the knights. He can still remember the vivid details concerning the contract Merlin had told him of that binded him and Arthur to their marriage. Merlin smiled a little at his poor attempt at humor, but Merlin still seemed a little… lackluster compared to how he usually was. Lancelot sighed, perhaps this distraction wasn't big enough to distract them away from the horse at Lancelot's side packed with his meager belongings. Merlin was probably harboring some guilt of his own, and should he know Merlin as well as he did, Merlin was probably blaming himself for not doing more to keep Lancelot in the city. But… Lancelot didn't feel bad, and he could hardly allow Merlin to feel bad on his behalf. He had learned more about what it meant to be a man here, then he had learned how to be a much better swordsman. "Hey, Merlin, please… I don't want you to be beating yourself over all of this. I know that things didn't end favorably for us, but it is still my choice to go. I'm sure I'll be able to land on my feet and find a new path for me to take on. I mean, I haven't let myself be stopped yet, have I?"
There was an entire world to explore after all, so many parts of Camelot he has yet to see in his travels. Perhaps it was time for him to spread his roots for just a bit, explore what else is out there, figure out what he can do with the skill he has since Camelot wasn't the answer he had been hoping for. Not today, at the very least. Maybe someday, if he was so lucky. But for today, he would leave to try and carve a new future for himself. Lancelot wasn't going to allow his failed attempt here at Camelot destroy everything he had worked for. He was sure he could find himself a new opportunity, perhaps become one of those guards for hire who helped escort nobles through bandit ridden forests. It wasn't the life he had pictured, and wasn't even considered one of the desirable jobs for one skilled with a blade, but at least it would mean his years of training didn't end up going to waste. That would be the saddest part of all, Lancelot thought, if he allowed his love for the sword to be tarnished by the stiffness of Camelot's rules.
"How can I not be upset when I know the only reason you are leaving is simply because you didn't kill the griffin? I mean, I know I… I used a special skill to do it with, but that victory really was yours, Lancelot. The griffin never would have died if you weren't the one carrying the lance, I just don't see why you cannot see that as well." Merlin bursted out, finally withdrawing his hands out from his pockets in order to wave them about, and Lancelot watched with this fond kind of expression creeping into his eyes. He was going to miss this, hearing Merlin work himself up when there was nothing for him to work himself up for. He had already made his decision after all, and nothing Merlin said was going to make him change his mind. "That mission was literally a two person job, and you've got every right to have some of the credit. Killing something as dangerous as the griffin would have guaranteed you a spot among the knights, your heritage be damned. In fact, we could probably go to see the king right now and work it all out if you want!"
Merlin seemed adamant about correcting the slight that had already happened to Lancelot, but the warrior shook his head, knowing that he wasn't turning all the way back to face Uther once again. Yes, perhaps in a different universe or time, Lancelot could have been allowed to walk through these halls wearing a red cape and armor after dedicating his life to protecting the people living in this kingdom. Maybe it would even happen, years from now when Uther took a step down and Merlin had a been more of a say about certain matters after he became the consort of a king. But Lancelot was ready to leave Camelot now—ready to prove he could still make something of himself somewhere else—even if it felt like he was living his heart behind in this city. Perhaps if he hadn't saw what he had seen the day of the griffin attack, he would've been more ready to wear that cape and armor. But Lancelot couldn't do it while he was left feeling as if he was a fraud. Lancelot had already tried fooling his way into the army of the king, so this time, he needed to do things right.
"You and I both know why I cannot do that, Merlin. As amazing as it would be to stay here and fulfill my greatest life ambition, it cannot be. As much as I do want to stay here, if only because of the friends I've made, and the life that I'm able to see spread out before me, it just isn't something that can happen." The warrior said, watching as Merlin deflated, his shoulders slumping forward as if he had already known Lancelot wasn't going to go along with him this second time. The warrior smiled sadly, feeling the acute pang of disappointment that he knew the other much be feeling, the two peasants who had been entangled amongst royal life. "And Merlin, your… I just want you to take care when you're using your… special talents, alright? Don't get caught by the wrong person the next time. Though if anybody needs some kind of reward for the griffin, it isn't me. You should have been the one that Arthur was fighting for, not me. I'm just sorry that the people around here are only going to remember me as being the 'traitor knight.' Not exactly the best impression I was hoping to leave with."
Even as secluded as Lancelot had made himself with Guinevere's presence in these last few days, he knew some people were still upset—furious—about the way he had tricked everybody to get into the knight's program to begin with. It wasn't a good feeling, having that kind of label stuck to his back even when he was on his way out of the city. But to be honest, it was also a label he's willing to bear. It was a burden that was his to carry, something to hold, because the warrior knew it was far better to be the one marked by this experience. Rather than Merlin who would have been sentenced to death and burned alive should anybody have dug further than they had into what really happened that night in the woods. Lancelot would rather be a living traitor, than have to live guilty as Merlin was carted away for 'crimes against the kingdom', or whatever label Uther would have stuck him with if he knew the truth. Some things—like this—was worth lying for. There was a certain honor in it, in knowing Merlin was able to live on and do whatever great work he was meant to do.
"That's not true! You are so much more than the… traitor knight, which is just a horrid name by the way! And people wouldn't be calling you that if any of them knew how kind you are to go out of your way to help a stranger. Or how brave you are to risk your life for somebody else. Or how far you would go if you saw an injustice happening right in front of you. I've seen it all, and you, cannot be called a traitor. I mean, you even… you even kept my secret when you've only known me a week! I didn't even know somebody would do that for somebody like me." Merlin trailed off, shaking his head furiously, as if he was upset with everybody else's poor perspective on the former knight. Lancelot sighed, one of these days Merlin wouldn't put down on himself. He would understand and be able to see how truly special he was, magic or no magic. Lancelot couldn't understand how anybody—even if they've only known him for a week-would've turned him in when Merlin's the one who was more than willing to put his neck on the line for a stranger. Merlin could talk about Lancelot and his great deeds all he wanted, but Lancelot could do exactly the same thing. "And I'm going to make sure people remember you for everything you did do! Every time that I'm hearing the words 'traitor knight', I'll remind them that you were the only man that was brave enough to follow Arthur's entire squad into the woods instead of just leaving them to deal with it. They can't argue against that when Arthur is convinced you saved his life that night!"
It was a nice thought, just as Lancelot knew it was bittersweet. The prince had been prepared and ready to fight his own father after they emerged out of the trees, determined to have Lancelot's full status as a knight returned right back to him. But how many times had Merlin saved Arthur's life already? How many times did Merlin do something that Arthur couldn't know about, and managed to walk away with his life still intact. And yet, the stories Lancelot had heard of their relationship and the scenes that he's witnessed for himself this last week in Camelot… Merlin deserved better. Merlin deserved somebody who was more than willing to fight against a king in order to defend him, somebody who was not afraid to look their own father in the eye and demand things change. Like granting Merlin his freedom to leave this city and that wretched contract that kept him here if he wanted to. Sure, Arthur had defended Merlin a few times if a petty knight tried throwing their limited power around, but that was only the bare minimum that Arthur should be doing for Merlin.
"Perhaps Arthur needs to realize he's already got somebody he can throw his attention behind, to make somebody else's life better. Somebody else who's already saved his life, and probably more than once if all the stories I heard are to be believed." Lancelot said, giving a gentle tilt of his head in the other boy's direction, a clear indicator to who Arthur should have been backing up all this time. Lancelot would gladly step aside if it meant Arthur would do what he had tried to do for him, for somebody who still had a future and needed to live with him. Merlin glanced away from him, a ruddy blush growing on his face while he stuck his hands back deep into his pockets, a pretty strong indicator that he is right. There HAD been other times where Merlin had done what he had to do in order to save the life of a man who scorned him over jealous pride. The warrior cast a look down towards the ground as his horse started to neigh behind him impatiently, as if it knew they were already supposed to be leaving right about now. "…Merlin… I just wanted to… thank you one last time before I leave. It did not work out, but I don't regret coming here or everything that's happened in the days since my arrival. I'm going to take everything that I've learned in the last few days, and then myself into a better knight than I was. A better warrior, and a better man. And when we meet again… you'll be proud to say you're my friend."
Lancelot could feel a wetness building up in his eyes as he took a step back, a hand going up to grab softly at the long mane of hair growing from his horse's head, the silk strand sliding through his fingers. Lancelot had underestimated just how hard it was going to be for him to say goodbye, the connections he's made with Merlin since being here felt like it had changed him forever. He was not the same man he was when he first arrived here, and he was probably not going to be the same man who was leaving the next time his path came across Merlin's. It seemed as if Merlin himself was also affected, the consort bringing up an arm to scrub harshly at his eyes with his elbow before the tears had the chance to escape his glassy eyes. Lancelot hadn't meant to make the consort cry, but he probably needed to get out of here before he started blubbering as well. Who knew goodbyes could be as horrible as they really were… the former knight was just putting his foot into his stirrup when Merlin cleared his throat.
"Err… I know that maybe this is a long shot, but I know that you travel all over the country, but have you ever considered traveling across the border? Maybe visit other lands briefly, just to see how they fair when compared with the one you already probably know like the back of your hand?" Merlin suggested, his hand returning to its place in his pocket, and the former warrior stopped with a foot half pushed into the stirrup. But no, Lancelot couldn't say he had thought of leaving Camelot before. This kingdom… it was his home, even when there's been several horrid memories attached to it. His parents had died in a village a week's ride from where Lancelot was now. But… to leave? To go and see what Mercia or what Esstier might have to offer? He couldn't see how it could differ all that much from Camelot. But.. it was a thought, perhaps something he can do for a change of scenario. Maybe it was actually what he needed, time away to come to terms with what his new future was going to look like since being a knight in the city was out. "I only ask because… just over the border of Esstier is a little village named Ealdor. It's nothing big, and you've probably seen other villages that look just like it. It's nothing more than a few cows, and this stream that flows by it, and a field of wildflowers off to the side. But… they've got this woman who lives there. If you're passing through, she won't mind putting you up for a few nights. She's… she's my mother. So… it wouldn't be awful to have her meet you…"
Lancelot's eyes grew wide in surprise, hardly able to believe his ears at what Merlin was suggesting he do. He knew that Merlin cared greatly for his mother—wishing she could move into that new estate of his made that very clear with Lancelot—but he could hardly just show up at the woman's house and expect her to be okay with a total stranger sleeping on her floor. And besides, she is Merlin's MOTHER! The woman that had raised the young man standing in front of Lancelot today, he could hardly meet HER when he was still struggling with discovering who he was now that he wasn't a knight. Somebody didn't just go riding up to the home of a consort and expected to be treated as if they were welcomed! What was he even supposed to say to a woman who had sent her son off to Camelot to be married? How could he sit down at her table and tell her anything that he's seen while he's been here in Camelot? Lancelot is sure she'd have plenty of questions about Merlin and what he's doing and things of that nature.
"I couldn't possibly impose! I'm sure the mother of a consort has things to do, more important things to do, than entertaining me! I mean, I would love to have a chance to meet her, but I'm sure she doesn't want me wasting her time and taking up space in her home or anything like that—" Lancelot stopped when he took in Merlin's face. His withdrawn expression, the way his hands continued to fidget in his pocket, the way he slid his boots in the dirt, and then there was pieces fitting itself together in Lancelot's mind. Questions he hadn't thought of until now… when was the last time Merlin saw his mother? When had he last been inside her embrace? When was the last time he got to speak to her? He's sure it was before Merlin had married, so… it had to have been several months at least. So, that meant… Lancelot's troubled expression cleared as he smiled at Merlin gently. He should have known Merlin wouldn't have came right out to say it, he probably didn't want Lancelot feeling pressured to do something like this for him. He quickly amended his statement, "But for the mother of my best friend, I would love to go and see her. I'm sure there will be plenty I could do in Ealdor for a few weeks. Maybe she'll even have a few things she needs a little help with that I could do as a means to pay her for entertaining me."
Merlin's troubled expression cleared almost immediately, his head snapping up as a bright grin spread wide across his face. Lancelot shook his head, grinning at him as well. This was the least Lancelot could do for Merlin, making the trip to Ealdor in order to check on Merlin's mother and make sure she was alright without Merlin being there. He was sure she wasn't—what mother was able to live okay without knowing her son was alright—but he could at least make sure she wasn't starving to death or living beneath a roof that looked as if it would try to cave in on her. Lancelot climbed onto his horse after making his decision and swung his leg over so he could settle into the saddle, the horse moving its weight beneath him before it also settled beneath his weight. And when there was nothing left to do, Lancelot turned back to look at Merlin, the boy looking suddenly so much smaller and younger now that he was sitting so high above him.
Lancelot opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something meaningful to the consort. Something he hadn't already said that would express exactly how grateful he was for everything Merlin's done for him. To thank him in a way that words simply could not manage. To make sure he carried part of Lancelot just as Lancelot would leave carrying a part of Merlin beneath his skin. But he was unable to find the words, unable to say anything that could match with what he was feeling. There was nothing he could say to Merlin, the Consort of Camelot that he has not been expecting to meet. Though, by this time next week, he is SURE he'll probably start hearing more stories on his travels towards the town Ealdor. Stories that would be exaggerated tales about what happened here in this kingdom, stories that would tell everything about the traitor knight. Who had used lies and deceit in order to get his peasant self among the ranks that belonged to people who acted as if they were gods amongst men. But—and he would make sure they did—the stories would also include a single boy who had risen above those men masquerading as gods. A single boy who had forsaken his titles and nobility to help a stranger.
It sounded like a story that started a legend, despite the bittersweet way that it was ending.
Lancelot turned away from Merlin, and snapped the reins on his horse, and the cape Guinevere had made for him fluttered behind him as he started this slow trot towards the gates. Trying in vain not to think about all of the things he was going to miss now that he was leaving… the people and the atmosphere in the city being only small parts of it. He would miss Gaius, who had allowed him in his home. And he would miss Guinevere, who had stolen his heart in a way he knew he would never get back. And he would miss Merlin, who had given him a purpose. Lancelot was almost to the gates when he finally heard a shout right behind him.
"WAIT! WAIT! LANCELOT!"
