A/N: Thank you to everyone reading, and to those who have put this story on their favorites or alert list! An extra thank you to Pohla for the review!

Chapter 24: Bearers of Bad News

When Hunith finally left the throne room, she went looking for her son. She found him in the castle courtyard, playing with some other children. For once, Arthur wasn't with him, but Hunith knew the boy usually had lessons at this time of day.

Hunith didn't approach the children right away. Merlin seemed so happy in this moment, playing and laughing in the sunny courtyard after being cooped up inside by rain for days, and she didn't want to interrupt his play to give him bad news. Not yet anyway.

She knew she would have to tell Merlin what had happened to Gorlois. He was bound to pick up on the fact that something bad had happened, and she wanted to make sure she was the one who broke the news to him. But it could wait a little longer.

As Hunith watched the children play, she remembered Gorlois' visit with his young daughter a few weeks before, how they had ended up joining the children's game in the courtyard. She found herself smiling at the memory. It had been a lot of fun, that day, and even Uther had joined in the game, albeit reluctantly. She felt a pang in her heart as her thoughts turned to Morgana. How bright and confident the little girl had seemed that day. Hunith's heart broke for the child at the thought of the pain she would endure now. It had been obvious how much Gorlois loved his daughter, and how much Morgana, in her turn, idolized her father. The girl would be alone now. In all the time since she'd come to Camelot, Hunith had never heard Gorlois mention his wife, Morgana's mother. She could only assume she had passed away, leaving Morgana a true orphan now with her father gone.

"Mama! What are you doing out here?" Merlin's voice, bright and cheerful, cut into Hunith's thoughts.

She looked down at her son, and managed a smile, though the expression felt forced. "I came to find you," she answered, "But I didn't want to interrupt your play."

"Will you come play with us?" Merlin asked, seemingly not noticing that anything was amiss.

Hunith shook her head, "No, not today, Merlin." She knew she couldn't delay her news any longer, "Will you come on a walk with me? There's something I need to tell you."

Merlin looked up at her curiously, before nodding, "Let me just say goodbye to my friends first."

Hunith nodded, "Of course. I'll wait here."

She watched as Merlin ran back to the other kids, his voice carrying back to her. "I have to go now! I'll see you later!"

Merlin bounced back over to her, a chorus of goodbyes following him. By the time they began to walk away, the other children had already gone back to their game.

For a few minutes, Hunith walked quietly, letting Merlin chatter about the children he had been playing with while she collected her thoughts and tried to figure out how to break this news to him. She glanced around the busy courtyard. She'd prefer somewhere a bit more private for such a heavy conversation.

She led Merlin (who was still chattering away) across the courtyard to a gate that she knew led to the castle gardens. The guard stationed there gave her a respectful bow as she and Merlin passed.

As they entered the gardens, which were much quieter, Merlin seemed to remember why she had called him away from his play. "What did you need to tell me, Mama?" he asked, his gaze turning curious again as he looked up at her.

Hunith took a deep breath. "You know that the knights have been away fighting at the border," she began.

Merlin nodded. He smiled, "They won, right, Mama?" Looking down into his untroubled face, Hunith knew that he didn't really understand. It all seemed like a game to him, like the tournaments he had watched his uncle and even Arthur participate in, a big, friendly competition where nobody really got hurt. She wished she didn't have to break that illusion.

"They did win," she answered quietly, "But it isn't like winning a game, Merlin. When it comes to battle… even when you win, there are losses."

Merlin scrunched up his nose, confused, "What do you mean? How can you lose if you win?"

Hunith closed her eyes. She had known this would be hard, but she hadn't realized just how hard. She knew that after today, part of her son's innocence would be lost forever.

"Are you okay, Mama?" she could hear the worry in Merlin's voice now.

She took another deep breath, and sat down right there in the grass.

"Come sit with me, Merlin." She patted the spot beside her, but Merlin instead clambered into her lap.

"Merlin, do you understand what a battle is?" She asked him, "What it means?"

"It's like a big fight," Merlin answered, "All of our soldiers against all the soldiers from the other kingdom."

"That's right," Hunith responded quietly, "But a battle isn't like a tournament, where the fight ends when someone drops his sword. In battle, people get hurt and… sometimes they die."

Merlin's expression was sober now. "Like Ellis' papa did?" he asked.

Hunith nodded, remembering Merlin's friend back in Essetir (one of the few noble boys who had actually been nice to Merlin). His father had died in a border skirmish when the boys were five.

"Yes, that's right," she answered, "And… even though Camelot's knights won this battle, some of them died too."

Merlin looked down, "That's sad. Why did they have to fight with the other knights? Couldn't they just talk it out? Like you make me and Arthur do when we argue?"

Hunith gave her son a sad smile, "That is the way the world should be, Merlin, but I'm afraid it just doesn't work like that."

She wrapped her arms around him, tucking him close to her chest, "You know that Sir Gorlois is the First Knight of Camelot."

She could feel Merlin nod against her chest. "Arthur says that means he's the boss of all the knights," he said, "The only one who's the boss above him is King Uther."

Hunith nodded. She swallowed hard, thinking of how kind Gorlois had always been to Merlin. She knew how much her son liked him. "Sir Gorlois…. He was one of the knights who died in the battle," she said quietly.

She gazed down at Merlin, and she could see the moment her words sank in. His face crumpled, and she drew him close as the tears started. She thought she had cried out all of her own tears in the throne room with Uther, but she found now that she still had more to shed.

"It's not fair," Merlin's voice was muffled against her chest, "I don't like battles!"

All Hunith could do was hold him close and stroke his hair. "I don't either, Merlin, I don't either."

They sat quietly for a long time. Merlin's tears slowed and then stopped, but still they sat. The only time Hunith remembered Merlin being so quiet before was at Ellis' father's funeral. She had been concerned about taking him, not sure he'd be able to sit still that long, but Merlin had surprised her. He'd sat solemnly in the front row, and held Ellis' hand the whole time. She had rarely been more proud of her son than she had been in that moment.

At last, Merlin raised his head from Hunith's chest and pulled away from her far enough to look into her eyes. "You know what, Mama?" he asked.

"What is it, my darling?" Hunith replied, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sad, because Sir Gorlois was really nice," he said, "But I'm sadder because he was Morgana's papa. Now she doesn't have one, just like I don't. I never had a papa, so that's okay. I don't have a papa to miss. But Ellis was really sad when his papa died. He missed him a lot. Now Morgana will be really sad too, won't she?"

Looking down into his solemn blue eyes, Hunith felt a strange mix of sadness and pride. Merlin was so young, but here he was thinking about the feelings of others, rather than his own.

"Yes, this will be a very sad thing for Morgana most of all" she answered quietly.

"Do you think I could do something to make her feel better?" Merlin asked earnestly.

Hunith took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, considering her words carefully. "Sometimes when you're sad, that sadness can't go away," she answered, "Not at first. This is that kind of sadness. We can't take that sadness away from Morgana, but I'm sure just knowing that there's people who care about her will help her. She might not be less sad, but she'll know she isn't alone. Like when you sat with Ellis after his father died. You were helping him then. Other than that…. It will just take time. Time and knowing there are people who care, those are the two things that will help Morgana most."

Merlin nodded solemnly. "I'll give her a hug next time I see her," he said decisively, "Will that help?"

Hunith smiled and pulled him in for another hug, "I'm sure it will. Hugs always help." She felt Merlin's small arms fasten around her in return.

When Merlin finally pulled away a few minutes later, he gave her a little smile, "You're right, Mama. Hugs do help."

Hunith gently caressed his hair, "Your hugs help me most of all. I love you, my sweet boy. I love your kindness and your heart, the way you care about the people around you. Don't ever lose that."

Merlin looked puzzled. He patted his chest, "How could I lose my heart, Mama? It's inside me."

The words, coupled with the expression of bewilderment on his face, startled Hunith into laughing, and there was healing in that laughter. She knew there would be more sorrow to come, but this moment of laughter was almost like a gift, reminding her that there would always be joy waiting on the other side.

Arthur knew that his lessons were important (or at least, so his father insisted), but they were so boring. It was hard to make himself care about the kings of Camelot before his father, or the names of the nobles of the court today. The only part he liked was when his history tutor told him about battles of the past. That at least was interesting.

There had been no exciting battles to learn about today, however. Instead he had been forced to sit through a lesson on the etiquette of feasts, and how he should interact with guests depending on their rank and whether they were from Camelot or a foreign kingdom. The lesson seemed endless, and when his tutor finally released him for the day, Arthur sprang up eagerly. As he hurried through the castle, he noticed something odd. This morning, everyone had been cheerful, boisterous even, celebrating the victory of their troops over Mercia. It had been part of what made Arthur's lessons feel so unbearable, having to sit still and listen when he could have been out having fun.

Now though… the mood was quite the opposite. The halls that had rung with laughter in the morning were now quiet. The people Arthur passed huddled in small groups, speaking in hushed tones. It gave him an uneasy feeling.

Out in the courtyard, Arthur found a small group of boys his own age. They were kicking a ball back and forth, but even they seemed tense. There was none of the usual laughter and horsing around.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked, glancing from boy to boy, "Why's everybody suddenly acting so oddly?"

The group of boys exchanged nervous glances. Finally, one spoke, "Another messenger came from the border with Mercia today, at least, that's what everyone's saying. And his news wasn't good."

Arthur frowned, "But we won the battle. Did the Mercians attack again or something?"

Another boy picked up the story, "I didn't hear anything about another attack, but people are saying a lot of people died in the battle. Our men," he scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot, and Arthur noticed that his hand were clenched into fists, "No one knows who died yet, not the whole list." Arthur remembered that this boy's father had been one of the soldiers who rode out with the initial wave. No wonder he looked so worried. Arthur wanted to say something encouraging, but he didn't know what, so he kept his mouth shut.

"The messenger did give the king one name, though," the boy who had spoken first said, "It was Sir Gorlois. He died in the battle."

Arthur's stomach dropped. He knew men died in war. He'd spent enough history classes memorizing the names of soldiers who had fallen in great battles. And he'd stood next to his father at the funeral of more than one knight who had died fighting for Camelot. But this was different. Gorlois wasn't just another knight; he was Arthur's father's best friend. Arthur had known him… well, his whole life.

He frowned at the other boy. "How do you know that?" he demanded, "You weren't there when the messenger came were you?"

"No," the other boy answered him, "But the castle steward was, and my mum overheard him telling someone."

"How do you know your mum didn't mishear?" Arthur asked, "Or maybe the castle steward misheard." There were always rumors flying around the castle, and he'd always been told he shouldn't listen to them, because at least half of them weren't true.

The other boy only shrugged. "Why don't you ask your father then?" he suggested, "Then you can tell us all if the rumors are true."

"And if the messenger gave him any other names." This was from the boy whose father had gone to the front, and he half-mumbled it, so Arthur almost didn't hear him.

Arthur glanced around at the group of boys. They were now looking at him eagerly, clearly wanting him to be their information source. It wasn't as if any of them would dare question the king directly.

He squared his shoulders, "All right. I will ask my father."

Arthur looked for his father in the throne room first, but both the king's throne and the one that had been added for Hunith sat empty. His father wasn't in the private meeting room off the throne room either, and the doors to the council chamber hung wide open, allowing Arthur to see at a glance that the room was empty.

As he turned away from the council chambers, wondering where to look next, Arthur spotted his father's manservant.

"Where's my father?" he called, and the man stopped, looking at him in slight surprise.

"The king is in his chambers," he answered, then seemed to hesitate before adding, "I do not think he wishes to be disturbed."

Arthur felt something in his stomach tighten. That didn't seem like a good sign. He'd never known his father to be in his chambers at this time of day.

He hesitated. Father's manservant had said the king didn't want to be disturbed, but he had told the other boys he'd find out what the messenger had said. And more than that, Arthur needed to know the truth for himself. Besides, he was Uther's son, surely that didn't apply to him. He turned on his heel and marched decisively towards the royal wing of the castle.

As he neared his father's chambers however, his footsteps slowed. Would Father be angry if he interrupted him? What if he was busy with something important? But he couldn't turn back now, he was already at his father's door. He took a deep breath, then knocked.

"Come," he heard his father's voice from inside the room. Did he sound irritated? Arthur wasn't sure.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. His father's chambers looked just as they always did, bed neatly made, nothing out of place. For a moment, the room seemed empty, though Arthur knew he had heard his father's voice.

Then he spotted Uther sitting at his desk. The torch above the desk wasn't lit, and the room's curtains were drawn, leaving the king in shadow. Arthur frowned to himself. What was his father doing? He couldn't possibly work at his desk in the darkness.

"Arthur?" Uther rose from the desk and strode toward his son, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at your lessons?" He sounded normal. Maybe things were okay after all. But if everything was normal, why was Uther sitting at his desk in the dark in the middle of the day?

"I've finished for the day," Arthur responded, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need to ask you about something."

He looked up at his father. Uther's face was unreadable. At least he didn't seem cross that Arthur was here.

"Go on," he said.

Arthur took a deep breath, "I…. some of the other boys said a messenger came today."

Something passed over his father's face then, but Arthur wasn't sure what it was. "That is correct," was all the king said. Arthur waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming.

"They said that Gorlois died in the battle," Arthur said quickly, looking at his father's chest rather than up at his face and trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve, "Is it true?"

His father was silent for a long time. So long that Arthur couldn't help but look up into his face again. When he did, he saw that Uther was staring down at him, and something in his expression told Arthur the answer even before Uther said the words.

"It is true." Father's voice was quiet, carefully measured. Arthur felt his stomach sink straight down to his knees. He had an uncle, a real one, his mother's brother Agravaine, but he had only met the man a few times in his life. Arthur didn't think his father and Uncle Agravaine liked each other very much.

Gorlois, though… he'd been there as long as Arthur could remember. Arthur had even called him Uncle Gorlois for a while when he was little. Gorlois had never seemed to mind.

It had been Gorlois who showed Arthur his very first bit of swordplay. Arthur hadn't even had a wooden sword back then, he had been playing with a stick. But Gorlois had still taken the time to show him some real knight's poses.

And once Arthur started training for real, Gorlois had made a point to ask him about his training every time he visited the castle. Arthur had often looked forward to the day he would be a knight and serve under Gorlois' command (at least until he was old enough to lead his father's troops himself.) Now… that would never happen.

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat. He was too old to cry. Especially in front of his father. Looking up at Uther, he wondered how his father could be so calm. Gorlois had been his best friend.

"Aren't you sad?" he blurted out. He could see the way his father's eyes seemed to tighten, and he immediately regretted the question, "I'm sorry."

Uther waved the apology away. "Of course I'm sad, Gorlois was a true friend."

"Then how can you be so calm?" Arthur couldn't keep himself from asking the question.

Uther sighed, and the sound seemed extraordinarily tired to Arthur, "I am the king, Arthur. I must keep my own emotions to myself. The people look to me for strength. Someday, you will learn this too. Someday it will be you they look to."

"Are you saying that kings aren't allowed to have feelings?" Arthur asked. He didn't know how to just… stop feeling. And would he really want to, even if he could?

But his father shook his head, "Not showing your feelings doesn't mean you don't have them. You simply learn to appear calm, whatever you may be feeling inside."

Arthur thought about it. He remembered how Gaius had told him that when his father appeared angry on his mother's birthday, he was actually sad. Gaius had also told him that everyone was scared sometimes, even his father. It was a lot to consider.

He looked up at his father again, and he thought that this time he could see the sadness behind the calm facade. He wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been looking, but the lines on Father's face appeared a little bit deeper, the set of his mouth a bit harder.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "About Sir Gorlois."

"I am too," his father answered gravely.

Arthur remembered something else, "Did… the messenger say who else had died?" he asked, "It's just… one of the boys I talked to, he was wondering about his father…"

Uther shook his head, "I do not know any other names, yet. Your friend will have to wait, like everybody else." His voice was brusque, though it softened just a touch a moment later, "I am sure we will know soon."

In a way, Arthur was relieved his father didn't have an answer to him. The thought of going back and being the one to tell someone their father had died made him feel ill.

Father turned away then, and went back to his seat at his desk. He didn't dismiss Arthur directly, but Arthur could tell he wanted to be alone. Arthur took his leave quietly. He knew the other boys were probably still in the courtyard, waiting for him to report back, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. None of them knew Gorlois like he did, the news wouldn't mean the same thing to them that it did to Arthur. And he didn't think he could deliver it calmly, like his father had. And he didn't have answers about who else had died either. It was like his father had said. They'd find out soon enough. He walked straight past the turn that would lead him toward the courtyard, and headed to his own chambers.

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