The Severance
The servant reported the incident with the smoke and the King called council to hear her account.
"It cannot continue," he growled when the woman exited, pacing atop the royal dais in his agitation.
"I will hunt down those responsible, Father," said Arthur, standing behind his throne and resting his weight against the back of it. "I promise they will not escape unpunished."
"No," the King refused, mouth a grim line. "Stronger methods are called for." He turned to the guards by the door and said imperiously, "Send for the Witchfinder."
By the gasps of the courtiers, this was a big deal.
Morgana's face was ashen with terror and her eyes begged Merlyn to relieve it. All she could do was set her features with determination and give the highborn a reassuring nod. She knew nothing about this Witchfinder, but she would not let Morgana be harmed for Merlyn's mistake.
Goodness, Gaius was going to be ropeable.
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He was more than ropeable. He was the kind of fearful-angry that made him lash out, berating her fiercely for not only being stupid herself, but teaching that stupidity to Morgana.
"Bad enough you are teaching the ward of the King at all!" he shouted. "But to encourage her to be so reckless! What were you thinking, girl!"
Merlyn tugged at her hair anxiously, gut churning with the guilt of her actions. "I wasn't thinking," she admitted, her soft tone a contrast to his gruff yelling. "Morgana was sad, and I-I messed up."
"You must hide anything that can tie you to sorcery," he ordered. "The man Uther has sent for, I know him."
"How bad is he?" she asked nervously. "Why did people react like that in the Council Chambers?"
"The Witchfinder is a force to be reckoned with," he said heavily, turning to meet her eyes. "I know him as Aredian, and he holds a deep hatred for sorcery. He is cunning and ruthless, and exceptionally skilled at what he does."
"Well, he cannot condemn me," she decided. "Arthur has taken everything to do with sorcery. I have no books, no artefacts – even my healing poultices are gone. There's nothing that might incriminate me."
"What of Morgana?" Gaius questioned with a raised eyebrow. "The manuscript you gave her would be enough to warrant an investigation and Aredian's methods are… unkind."
"Surely the King would not condemn Morgana to cruel methods over a mere book," Merlyn said in disbelief. "He adores her." And she is his daughter, she didn't add.
Gaius gave her a pointed stare and replied, "Uther is blinded by hate. I have witnessed how far he is willing to go to purge Camelot; I would not risk the Lady Morgana with his judgement."
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The Witchfinder arrived the next night. Merlyn stood beside Morgana at the window and watched him rein in a sturdy rouncey carting a large, rattling cage. Morgana's maid was behind the two, preparing the bed for the highborn, so neither witch could speak freely, but Morgana's hand sought Merlyn's and squeezed tight at the sight of the contraption. They watched the Witchfinder paused in his movements, head lifting with unerring accuracy to meet their stare.
"Be calm," Merlyn breathed by Morgana's ear when she gasped in fright. "He will only be suspicious if you act suspiciously."
Aredian was distracted by the call of a guard by the castle doors and both women let out relieved sighs when he moved out of sight. Morgana turned to Merlyn with fear in her eyes.
"He's going to know what I did," she whimpered.
"No, he's not." Merlyn touched her shoulder but glanced worriedly at Farah, who was giving them privacy with her back turned to fuss over pillows. She whispered, "Relieve your maid. I can finish tending to you."
"Farah," Morgana said then cleared her throat when her voice trembled. "That will be all for tonight. Thank you."
"If that is your wish, My Lady," the quiet woman said with a respectful bow, placing the sleeping tonic noticeably on the bedside table so Merlyn would know where it was before exiting.
"Come," Merlyn urged, leading the highborn to her changing screen where a nightdress was already prepped. "Remember, Morgana, you are noble. You have status; therefore, you are protected. All you need to do is act like the confident, fearless woman I know so well and Aredian will have nothing to hold against you."
She nodded in agreement, but her features remained pale and her eyes wide. She changed in silence and Merlyn took her hand and led her to her bed once she was ready.
Upon seeing the large, soft spread, Merlyn was hit with a childish urge. She hesitated then asked, "Can… do you mind if I stay here with you tonight? Like a-a sleepover?"
Morgana appeared surprised at the request but said immediately, "Of course. I'm sorry; you must be just as anxious as I."
Merlyn smiled tightly as she shucked her boots and unlaced her girdle. "It is a little intimidating," she admitted, burrowing under the covers and rolling to face Morgana. The noblewoman mimicked her position, hands tucked beneath the feather pillow. "But I know if I deny anything to do with the incident and hide any worries, I am safe."
Not exactly true. She wasn't quite as protected as Morgana, so she could still be sentenced without a confession. But she didn't like to think about that. She swallowed against her heartbeat thrumming in her throat.
"Perhaps I can spend the day with Gwen," Morgana mused, hiding a yawn behind her hand. "She has been particularly cheerful lately and we are overdue on a visit to the orphanages. Did I tell you about the lovely girl, Margery? She has been teaching the younger children their letters from the few lessons we've managed to impart. She is such a smart child, picked up the patterns after two visits."
"That's wonderful," Merlyn said, closing her eyes sleepily. "I was a terrible student growing up; too easily distracted."
"Margery is certainly scholarly. She prefers to write stories in the dirt over playing with the other girls."
"How old is she? Perhaps you could ask Geoffrey if he would be willing to take on an apprentice. The library could do with an updated catalogue, and I know he struggles to keep it free of dust and infestations on his own."
"Merlyn!" Morgana exclaimed, sitting up in her bed and taking the warm blankets with her. "That's ingenious! Why didn't I think of that before? Margery is coming on twelve; she's perfectly employable."
"Good. Now lie down," Merlyn ordered grumpily, tugging her arm until the woman relented and flopped back onto her pillow. Her long tresses landed over Merlyn's face, and she spat out the black strands with a grimace. "You can ask Geoffrey in the morning. Now sleep; tomorrow is going to be trial enough without sleeplessness added to the mix."
"It hardly bears thinking about," Morgana bemoaned, throwing her arm over her face dramatically.
Merlyn snorted but silently agreed with the sentiment. It did hardly bear thinking about.
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Aredian was frightening. He was astute and perceptive, and knew exactly how to rattle those he questioned; Merlyn's nerves were shot after one conversation in the marketplace and she was due for an official statement within the hour.
"You are not guilty, Merlyn," Gaius lectured as they returned to his chambers to unload before Merlyn left to meet the Witchfinder. "You've done nothing wrong so he cannot blame you, even if he tries to twist your words."
"I'll be fine, Gaius," she said, trying to squash the rising anxiety. Her fingers clenched around the small flask tied to her girdle, which contained her smelling salts. Why she had breathed them after first talking to the Witchfinder, she didn't know, but it was too late now to take the action back.
She trotted through the castle, down into the dungeons, and thought to herself, of course Aredian had set himself up within a dungeon. What was more befitting a man intent on making money out of harming others?
"You are aware that sorcery has been practiced in the vicinity of Camelot?" the man asked once she had settled into her hard-backed, wooden chair. By her side, grotesque implements with unknown (and unthinkable) functions hung off sharpened hooks and the Witchfinder had decided a skull was a good vessel for ink, dipping his quill into the place where a brain would once have lived.
"Yes," she said then amended herself; "I mean… apparently."
"No, no, it cannot be denied. There was a witness." His tone was mild and his eyes focused on the parchment he was using to write, but she was not fooled by the casual persona. This was a wolf on a hunt.
Cool, calm, and collected, Merlyn, she reminded herself, swallowing her nervousness.
"Yes, I know," she said, trying to keep herself poised.
"Do you also know that the woman has named you as a witness?"
Her brow twitched in confusion, "But –"
"I've already spoken to her," he interrupted, keen eyes snapping up to her face. His cool gaze dared her to reject it. "She was quite clear on the matter. You and the Lady Morgana."
"Neither of us were witnesses," she said, trying to subtly flex her fingers when she realised they were clamped tight around the arm of her chair.
"Perhaps I misheard," he said, a feigned frown upon his face. She knew he was mocking her denial. "Do you deny you were present at the time of the incident?"
"No. We-we were there," she amended. "But we were talking to each other. We didn't notice any horse in the smoke."
"Are you saying she lies?" he asked, and she clenched her teeth.
"I didn't say that. I'm saying we didn't see what she saw."
"Hmm," he said disbelievingly, examining her closely. "How can that be, I wonder? How can one person see something and the other not?"
"Awareness?" she suggested, perhaps a little cattily but her heart was pulsing in her ears, and she was stopping herself from fidgeting by the barest thread of composure. "Morgana and I were focused on each other. We weren't looking at the scenery. We were just as startled to see that woman as to hear what she claimed."
"So you are on familiar terms with the Lady Morgana?" he asked, changing tact. "Even though you are not her maid?"
"We are friends," Merlyn answered, disliking his judgemental tone. "Morgana cares not for rank or titles. She is honest and compassionate, and befriended me days into my arrival in the city."
"From… Essetir," Aredian confirmed after glancing at a piece of parchment on his desk. "A kingdom at war with Camelot. And one that does not ban sorcery."
"Cenred's kingdom is no more welcoming than Camelot in regards to magic," Merlyn retorted. "They just don't have laws imposing it."
"Hmm," he said again then began straightening up his papers. "That will be all."
Merlyn stood and was almost out the door when Aredian added, "For now."
She paused and glanced back, knowing exactly what he was doing, the cunning old coot. She lifted her chin and marched out without a speck of fear displayed.
She made it three hallways before she ducked into an alcove and let her hands shake, bending over to catch her breath and try to calm her racing heart. Aredian was a master at his task, and very keen in his observations. She just hoped his suspicions remained unfounded and arguable.
She had to update Morgana.
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Surprisingly, there were no more interviews that day. Morgana was anxious for hers after hearing Merlyn's account of the Witchfinder's guile. She was not very skilled in impassivity, wearing everything on her sleeve and speaking loudly with passion. This cloak-and-dagger routine was eating at her composure just as it was fraying at Merlyn's nerves.
That afternoon, however, three women were brought forth to reveal the sorcery they had witnessed. Sorcery Merlyn could see Morgana was clueless to and, therefore, didn't do. Was there another magician in the city?
"The sorcerer laughs in your face," Aredian declared after the last woman had spoken. "Even now, magic flourishes on the streets of Camelot."
Courtiers hissed to each other in fear while the King whispered in shock, "I can scarcely believe it."
"Yet it is the truth, My Lord. Fortunately, I've utilised every facet of my craft to bring this matter to a swift resolution."
Merlyn started to feel sick in her belly. Surely, he couldn't know yet; he hadn't even interviewed Morgana.
"The sorcerer?" the King said, eyes intent on the Witchfinder. "You have a suspect?"
"Oh, I do, My Lord. I regret to say, they stand among us in this very room!" He was very skilled at building the suspense, enjoying his hold on the court. Morgana looked liable to pass out and Merlyn wished she would mask her reactions a little more; likely, Aredian noticed her alarm. "My methods are infallible, my findings incontestable! The facts point to one person and one person alone: the girl – Merlyn!"
Arthur jumped up from his throne. "Merlyn? You cannot be serious!"
"This is outrageous!" shouted Gaius from her side. "You have no evidence!"
"The tools of magic cannot be hidden from me," Aredian declared with a dark smile. "I am certain a thorough search of the girl's chamber will deliver us all we need."
"Father!" Arthur protested. "Merlyn may be a servant, but she is a trusted Friend of Camelot. This accusation is unwarranted and unjust."
"Sorcery can breed anywhere, Arthur," the King said dismissively then turned to her; "Merlyn?" he questioned, and she wanted to scoff. Like she could deny a search without incriminating herself.
Her gaze glanced over Arthur before resting on the Witchfinder. She lifted her chin defiantly, "I have nothing to hide from him."
"Very well," the monarch said. "Guards; restrain the girl. Let the search begin."
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Arthur came to Merlyn's cell not half an hour later and she stood up to greet him at the door. His eyes were solemn as he met her gaze and her gut swooped in anxiety of having been exposed.
"You're free to go," he said, the click of the lock almost as loud as the jangle of keys in the prince's hand.
He pulled open the door with a squeak of aged hinges, but she hesitated in her departure. He didn't look as happy as he should have. "Arthur?" she questioned softly, sensing something more was going on.
He ducked her gaze and the waiting guard stepped forward to take her arm, leading her from the dungeon. Nevertheless, she soon discovered exactly why Arthur had been so cagey when Gaius was led past with his own escort and bound hands.
"Gaius?" she said, baulking automatically at the image of her mentor in chains. "Gaius, what's going on?"
Her guard forced her to march on, but Gaius called over his shoulder, "Say nothing, Merlyn! Do nothing. Promise me!"
He disappeared around the corner before she could reply, and she instinctively struggled to go to him.
"Desist," her guard ordered quietly. "Or I'll be forced to restrain you."
"But why are they taking Gaius to the dungeons in chains?" she asked him, ceasing her resistance for answers.
"He was found with a magical item in his possession. The King is to decide the next step."
Merlyn heart skipped a beat, thoughts reeling over what she could have forgotten to be found in a search, but nothing came to mind. Everything she'd had, Arthur had confiscated.
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Gaius' chambers were trashed. Beakers and vials shattered, books torn, research papers crumpled and stepped on… her uncle's life's work reduced to little more than rubbish. Storage jars had been thrown to the ground, ceramic, glass and pottery crunching underfoot while their innards spread across the floor like a murder, too contaminated to use. Unaccountable time and money lost, and Gaius absent to repair it.
Her hand clenched around her medallion and cursed the sorrow welling in her throat like a bruise.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and she quickly wiped her eyes before turning to greet Arthur as he stepped into the room. His eyes tracked the destruction before landing on her, hands clenched together under her sternum, in the middle of it all.
"Everything that cannot be repaired, I will replace," he vowed softly, stepping over broken chairs and loose papers to reach her side. "This does not mean Gaius is guilty of sorcery. My father would be foolish to discard decades of loyalty over an old trinket."
"It's not mine," she told him, desperate for him to believe her. "I gave you everything. He doesn't practice sorcery. I didn't know… I don't know why he has a magical object."
"The amulet could be a gift from years gone by. This could all be a silly mistake. I trust Gaius."
"Gaius was scared for me when the King called for the Witchfinder," Merlyn said. "Even with this…" she wrapped her right hand around her left forearm, above the Cuff hidden beneath her sleeve. "Please try to make your father see reason. Gaius does not practice sorcery. I would know."
"Of course," Arthur agreed, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "As I said, I trust Gaius. He harboured you against the laws, but you are his family, and he has never been a threat to our kingdom. He has served faithfully since before I was born. That cannot be washed away in a moment of recklessness."
"Thank you," she whispered.
They were interrupted by another soft knock and Gwen peered around the ajar door with concern on her face. Merlyn saw her friend and felt her eyes burn with tears.
"Gwen," she whispered and hurried towards her. The ex-maid met her inside the door with open arms, folding her towards her chest as Merlyn made contact. "Gwen, they took Gaius."
"I know," she said softly, hand stroking over Merlyn's lank hair as the girl buried her face in Gwen's shoulder. "I just heard."
"I'll leave you to it," Arthur said awkwardly, edging around the embracing pair. "I'm dining with my father and Aredian, so I will clear up this misunderstanding immediately. Trust me, I'll not let Gaius be condemned without an admission of guilt from his own lips."
Merlyn nodded without removing her face from Gwen's dress and soon his footsteps faded into the distance.
"Come on," Gwen said, turning to lead Merlyn from the chamber with her arm around her shoulder. "You can stay with Lancelot and I tonight. We can help you clean this up tomorrow."
Merlyn let herself be led like a child, feeling very much like one in that moment. Suddenly, and with a desperate ache in her gut, she longed to see her mother. So much fear and criticism in the air; she ached to be surrounded by her unconditional love, to forget cruel and selfish people like Aredian existed. Her mother had never been judgemental, always accepting everyone for who they were, hurts, anger, hate and all. She didn't resent those who had condemned her for keeping Merlyn, only empathising with their fear. Merlyn needed some of that wisdom now. And perhaps a cuddle. Mother snuggles were always something to cherish.
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Arthur sat beside Merlyn on the edge of Gwen and Lancelot's bed the next morning. The other man was at dawn drills with Sir Leon while Gwen left for the markets to give the pair some privacy. Merlyn would have felt guilty for displacing her friend, but her mind was stuck on the news Arthur shared.
"I tried, Merlyn," he said earnestly, watching her while she kept her head ducked, focused on her knees. Her hands curled around the edge of the mattress, squeezing so tightly her fingers ached. "My father is too blinded. He did hesitate… Gaius is an old man… but Aredian was persuasive."
"So Gaius is being interrogated?" she asked, mind conjuring up horrible images of what the Witchfinder might be doing to her uncle. The merciless mercenary with his cold eyes and unfriendly smile against the studious, gruff, warm-hearted old physician.
"Aredian refuses to divulge his methods," Arthur said but his visible hand clenched into a fist atop his thigh. "But my father was… worried about how Gaius would hold up."
The sob surprised her, escaping her throat before she realised it was there. She covered her mouth with a hand as emotion welled like a tide in her chest, pressing against her ribs until it hurt to breathe. Arthur pulled her into his side, other arm coming up to cradle her head as tears filled and fell from her eyes. She squeezed them shut, lungs hitching, but refused to make more noise, her throat a painful knot in defiance. She was underserving of the release.
Gaius had warned her. He had warned her multiple times magic wasn't something to be trifled with, yet she had acted like she was above such reprimand. She had been responsible for teaching Morgana to be careful, to always be aware of threats – just like Gaius had taught her – but she had failed and now Morgana was wearing the guilt and the fear while Gaius was bearing the blame.
Good work, Merlyn, she scolded herself. Stellar job.
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"Merlyn," Morgana whispered as the noblewoman opened her door to admit the girl into her chambers. Her fair face was unpainted, leaving her green eyes underscored with purple bruises and her lips pale and chapped with teeth marks. "Oh, I heard about Gaius – this is all my fault – I didn't think –"
Merlyn was too tired to argue so she just stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Morgana's back, needing the comfort as much as the older woman did. After a moment's hesitation, the hug was returned and Morgana released a long sigh, the tension in her shoulders easing beneath Merlyn's cheek.
"I should have been more cautious," Merlyn said quietly. "I'm supposed to be teaching you to be safe and I failed. Now Gaius is suffering."
"Surely he cannot be guilty," Morgana said. "He's not a sorcerer." Her tone held the slightest tint of uncertainty.
"He's not," Merlyn assured, pulling back to meet her friend's eyes. "He abides the King's laws even though he knows about me. Aredian will have to accept his innocence sooner or later." She just hoped before Gaius endured more than he could handle.
"But the hunt for a sorcerer will continue," Morgana said, eyes wide. "Someone, whether innocent or not, will end up on the pyre eventually."
"Perhaps," Merlyn conceded reluctantly. "But we can also hope when no one admits to any wrongdoing –" her look was pointed, "– the Witchfinder will be forced to find his pound of flesh elsewhere."
"Perhaps," Morgana parroted but her countenance remained unconvinced. Together, they approached the sun lounge and situated themselves upon it, Merlyn at the end with her back against the wall while Morgana reclined on the raised headrest with her bare toes tucked under Merlyn's thigh.
Eager for a happier topic, the black-haired girl asked, "Did you enquire with Geoffrey to take on an apprentice?"
Morgana's face lit up. "I did," she said. "He is willing to try the girl out; he wants someone dedicated and passionate, and I know Margery is that. I've yet to talk to her but I just know she will be eager."
"Of course she will be," Merlyn agreed, sinking into the distraction. "For an orphan to be able to pursue a career… She will be a reminder to all those lost children that happiness can be found even in the darkest of times."
"I've never thought of the struggles the parentless children in the lower town suffer," Morgana mused, eyes drifting to the window above the lounge and the cloudy sky beyond. "Many citizens are struck ill and not given the opportunity to find their feet again, but it must be many times worse for children. The orphanages are crowded with little staffing; they have not the chance to learn their letters and numbers. What kind of life can they make when they lack important fundamentals such as that?"
"Perhaps a tutor could be hired?" Merlyn suggested. "One to teach a group of children instead of individually."
"I know not of any tutors who know such methods," Morgana commented, her brow furrowed as she contemplated options. "Though, Arthur and I shared lessons in history no less detrimental than private education."
"It could be a petition for the King," she replied, letting herself be swept up in the idea. "If the average citizen had access to a place of learning like the library here in the castle, it could improve the lifestyle of the lowborn, give them the knowledge to improve themselves – and it would raise the status of the kingdom among our neighbours. Surely he couldn't turn that away?"
"Perhaps not a library, books are costly and require a lot of maintenance. But a communal place for teaching might work, a-a sanctuary of learning."
"A study hall type building," Merlyn agreed, catching on. "One where a tutor can teach a-a faction, like the way a storyteller shares their tale to everyone at once."
"We should work out the logistics to present to the King," said Morgana in excitement and Merlyn agreed, imagining such a grand idea coming to life. The possibilities it would open.
"It will help distract me from what's happening to Gaius," she said. And perhaps give her brain a break so she could think more objectively on a plan of action to save him. "Plus, the stronger our case, the harder it will be for the King to turn down."
"So how shall we sell it?" Morgana asked. "'The improvement of Camelot's status among its neighbours' or 'The betterment of opportunities for our most vulnerable citizens'?"
They both looked at each other and said in tandem, "The improvement of Camelot's status."
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"Arthur," Merlyn said, ducking into the prince's chamber that afternoon. She had timed their conversation to follow his bath after working with the knights. He was typically happier after training his men and the winddown from washing away the grime often left him lenient and more open to suggestion.
"Merlyn," Arthur replied, straightening up from where he had been slouching in his chair at the table. "How are you?"
Perfect opening, she thought.
"I wish to see Gaius," she said with preamble and braced for his rejection.
Expectedly, Arthur shook his head. "I cannot," he refused with an apologetic sigh. "He is a prisoner during questioning. No visitors, not even for food and water."
Merlyn frowned, not having known that titbit. "So he's starving?"
"He's wellbeing is entirely up to Aredian," the prince explained, dropping his eyes as he poked at the table absently. His voice sounded the slightest bit bitter, and Merlyn remembered, while she may be closer to Gaius, the old physician had been one of a few to help raise Arthur. This had to hurt him as much as it hurt her.
She changed tactics.
"Arthur," she said softly, approaching and lowering herself awkwardly onto the chair near his. It still felt weird to sit while Arthur was around; relaxing was frowned upon while on duty, but she leant forward regardless and took his hand in her own, stilling his aimless fiddling. "You know he is innocent. Therefore, a visitor cannot impede Aredian's investigation. I cannot tell Gaius anything he doesn't already know, nor can I help him lie when the truth is more valuable."
"It is not a matter of my permission, Merlyn," he argued, though it lacked heat. His eyes were on their hands, though he had not moved more than to brush over the tips of her fingers once with his thumb. "If you are caught, you will be treated with the same suspicion as Gaius and you cannot afford to draw Aredian's attention."
"He isn't always in the dungeons, though," she pointed out. "He sleeps, he eats, he explores. Pick a time when he is busy, and I will be in and out in minutes. I only… I only wish to see how he fares. To let him know I am thinking of him. He is an old man, Arthur. Your father was worried about how he would hold up, which means it is a legitimate concern. He might die for a mistake. Arthur, please."
Arthur removed his hand from beneath hers and rubbed his face with both palms vigorously. "Urgh!" he grumbled. "Life would be much easier without magic!"
"Hah," she retorted, insulted. "It isn't magic torturing Gaius right now! It is a man with tools and authority, nothing more!"
Arthur sighed, already deflating. "You're right," he conceded softly. "This isn't magic's doing. This is my father's."
His admission tripped up her anger, quashing any words she had to say. Arthur filled the silence for her; "Tonight, Aredian is dining with my father to update on his progress. I'm not required to attend. Be here by the seventh bell and I will take you to Gaius."
"Oh, thank you!" she cried, leaping up and hugging the prince, despite his seated position. She didn't care that his face was mashed into her chest; she was too ecstatic to be embarrassed. "Thank you, thank you!"
She dashed out without waiting for a dismissal, heading towards the physician's chambers to gather some medicine Gaius might benefit from – ones to go unnoticed by the Witchfinder later.
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Gaius looked horrible. She couldn't see any visible signs of trauma, but he appeared drawn and broken. With a pointed glance from Arthur, the guard at the end of the hall turned away and the prince unlocked the cell for Merlyn to enter.
"A few minutes only," he ordered then stepped away to give them some semblance of privacy.
"Gaius!" she whispered, rushing to the exhausted man, hesitating to hug him lest she disturb any unseen injuries. He ignored her pause and pulled her into his arms. She yielded immediately, blinking back tears as she felt how weak he was.
"It's alright, Merlyn," he soothed, rubbing her back. "I'm alright."
She pulled back, keeping her hands on his elbows. "You are the furthest thing from alright," she scolded, then released him altogether to rummage in a small knapsack. "Here. Pain tonic, energy replenishment and immune booster." She handed him the three different flasks and glared at him until he downed all. She took the empty vials back then clasped his hands between her own.
"I can't believe the King would allow you to be treated like this."
"He had no choice. Once Aredian had found the amulet..."
Merlyn cocked her head. "I didn't even know you had such a thing."
"It isn't mine."
She frowned. "Why did you say it was?"
"I was trying to protect you." He stated it like it was so simple and, in her mind, pieces that didn't seem to fit slotted into place.
"I don't know what to say," she murmured, feeling ill with the implication of her realisation. Gaius tried to console her.
"It's alright, Merlyn. You don't have to say anything."
She shook her head. "I do," she denied then met his eyes as anger heated up her insides like an untended cooking pot. "The amulet isn't mine either."
"Then how did it get there?" the old man asked, and Merlyn struggled to keep her voice steady in her reply.
"Aredian."
"Aredian?"
"There's no other explanation."
"But why?"
"He knew you were a sorcerer before the King began the Purge, didn't he?" It was all making sense now.
"Yes. He and Uther know each other from when they were boys. He visited occasionally."
"Then perhaps he believes a sorcerer will always be a sorcerer. He sought you out the moment he arrived in Camelot. Do you remember the way he looked at us; he disliked you immediately, and he targeted me without due cause – probably to get to you. It all makes sense." Goodness, why hadn't she seen it before?
"This is a lot of speculation, Merlyn," Gaius cautioned, blinking slowly as he tried to keep up.
She patted his arm reassuringly. "But the amulet being planted is the truth and I will get to the bottom of it," she vowed.
"Be careful," he advised, worry coating his tone as much as his exhaustion. "Aredian is cunning and experienced. He could set you up to fall as easily as he set me, and you do not have the security of long service behind you."
"Worry not," she told him, glancing over her shoulder to where Arthur was watching the hallways. "I have something better."
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"You're telling me Aredian planted the amulet to get to Gaius?" Arthur said, disbelief clear in his tone and raised eyebrow. Currently, they were in Arthur's chambers, a place secure enough for Merlyn to air her suspicions without being overheard.
"It isn't Gaius'. It isn't mine. The only reason it would have been there was if someone else put it there, and Aredian made it clear he didn't like Gaius from the moment he arrived. This was him!"
"Why would Gaius admit it is his if it is not?" he pressed, rubbing his brow.
Merlyn leant over the table and forced the prince to meet her eyes. "He was trying to protect me. He thought it was mine. But everything I have, you took. I've never owned an amulet – I don't even know enchantments for them. But you also know what this means, don't you?"
"Enlightenment me," he said, voice and eyes tired.
Contrarily, Merlyn was buzzing, too restless to remain still. "It means Aredian suspects me too. If he planted it to frame me and Gaius took the blame to protect me, Aredian knows there is a secret to keep. It means, no matter if Gaius lives or dies, Aredian will not stop hunting. How many more innocent people will be framed before the Witchfinder deems his pockets full enough?"
"Enough," Arthur ordered, and Merlyn shut her mouth, seething with a need to do something. Gaius was suffering right now! The prince tapped his fingers on the table in contemplation, lips a grim line. "I cannot take this to my father. The only proof we have is your word against his and Gaius has already confessed ownership."
"What if we found more evidence?" she asked, and Arthur frowned at her. "The amulet had to be in Aredian's possession before it was in Gaius'. If he is planning to investigate more people, he would have to have more 'magical artefacts' to plant, wouldn't he? If we find them, we can turn the table back on him."
"You want to search his room?" he clarified, eyebrow lifted once more. "Merlyn, I cannot condone this. If you're caught, you would have no protection. It's too dangerous."
"Less dangerous than allowing Gaius to be tortured, possibly to death? Less dangerous than waiting for him to frame me?" Arthur dropped his eyes. "I will not stand idly by while this man uses your father's fear to hurt people. I will investigate – and you can either help me or get out of my way."
His jaw clenched, and he met her defiant glare with his own disapproval. Nevertheless, he soon expelled a resigned sigh. "Let me scope a good time before you barrel ahead and get yourself caught."
Merlyn smiled in relief, some of the tension coiled in her gut easing at having an ally. With Gaius taken from her side, she'd felt unsteady, as if the ground crumbled beneath her feet. Having someone on her side again helped firm her balance. She felt less like a failure and more able to tackle the problem she'd caused.
"We should bring in Lancelot," she suggested. "He's trustworthy and we'll need all the help we can get."
Arthur hummed thoughtfully then said, "Go find him and tell him to report here. Then you can go tend to the horses; their stalls are filthy."
Their stalls were not filthy, Merlyn knew, since the stablemaster wouldn't stand for it. And also: "I'm not your servant anymore," she reminded him haughtily. "You can't tell me what to do."
He shot her a look, a spark of challenge in his humoured gaze. "Is that so?"
She paused at the edge to his voice, the one warning of his silent dare. Sometimes she met it with a cheeky grin but on others… "I'll just… go see Sunstrider," she conceded with a wry smile, too tense to banter.
"Make sure he hasn't mauled any of the stableboys," Arthur agreed in a gentler tone. Merlyn nodded and left.
Her poor stallion had been neglected while she'd been out of commission. His recovery had slowed a fair bit since she couldn't use enhanced healing poultices on his wound, but he was long past the critical stage anyhow. Now, he was at the frustrating phase where he felt well enough to prance but wasn't actually well enough to prance.
Bless the beast for patience.
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Arthur joined her in her search of the Witchfinder's room, leaving Lancelot to patrol the corridor as lookout.
"Don't you trust me?" She snarked when he told her the change in details.
He cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and lifted a keychain full of keys, "If Aredian is hiding anything, it will most likely be within a locked case. If it is Camelot design, I will be able to open it."
Merlyn blinked. "Oh," she said lamely then scrunched her nose apologetically. "Sorry."
He rolled his eyes and pointedly unlocked the door to the room.
He was very strict in their searching pattern. Merlyn was messy in her desperation, but Arthur quickly reined her in and set her to sorting methodically. When they came to an inaccessible cabinet, across from the door, Arthur wasted no time inserting the correct key. Inside, there didn't appear to be much in the way of suspicious contraband until Merlyn spotted the flower petals within a glass vessel. Petals she recognised.
"Belladonna," she breathed, pinching several of them between her fingers to place in her palm. The waxy texture and typical pale mottled colour was exactly right for the medicinal plant. Point of fact, belladonna, also called deadly nightshade, was often used in magical brewing for its potent properties – namely, the hallucinogenic characteristic.
No average person would stock such a dubious substance unless they intended to use it.
There was a tap and scrape against the wood of the door – Lancelot alerting them to Aredian's approach – and Merlyn scrambled for a place to hide the both of them while Arthur shut and locked the cabinet.
"Under the bed," Merlyn decided, grabbing Arthur by his collar and throwing him towards the four-poster. She dragged him down as she dropped to her knees, but he hissed like a ruffled cat as she tried to shove him beneath the edging.
"Alright, woman!" he growled, slapping her hands away before he crawled underneath. The click of the door opening had Merlyn lunging after him while he turned to snag her about the waist to bodily drag her in. She muffled her yelp when their heads nearly collided, but he twisted away and she ended sprawled over his chest instead, stopping herself from meeting the floor on his other side by throwing a knee over his lap. She wanted to pull away but the brush of the bed-slats at the back of her head meant she had no room and the measured taps of the Witchfinder's shoes on the stone floor warned her to be still.
She gulped and stared down at Arthur with wide eyes, his own staring back up at her with just as much discomfit. She tried not to feel the warmth of his hands frozen on her waist, nor the bit of belt digging into her inner thigh, telling her just how close she was to his crotch. Goodness, she probably only had to sit down a little more and she'd be brushing right against –
No! Bad Merlyn. Bad. Oh, why did she think that? Now her cheeks were heating like she'd set them on fire. She hoped he didn't notice. Was it too dark under the bed to see a change in colour on her face? What if something in her expression revealed exactly what she'd been thinking?
Aredian's footsteps moving passed the end of the bed drew her attention and her eyes flicked from Arthur's to track the man in his slow stroll around the room, slow like he was inspecting it for foul play. She couldn't glimpse more than his legs but seeing him strut around sent her blood boiling and reaffirmed the need to knock him down a notch or several.
Gaius. He was what was important right now. Freeing Gaius and stopping Aredian from condemning innocent people.
After several tense minutes, the Witchfinder deemed his chambers secure and left after collecting whatever item he had originally sought. The instant he was gone, Merlyn shoved the petals in Arthur's face, her excitement at finding proof too important to wait until they were out from under the bed.
"Belladonna, Arthur," she crowed quietly. "If brewed correctly the liquid can produce hallucinogenic effects."
"Great," he muttered uncomfortably, hands on her waist urging her to roll off his body. She did so with an annoyed huff, wanting him to focus on what was important, not… their unfortunate position.
"The witnesses, Arthur," she continued as she propped herself up on an elbow, holding the petals in his face when he tried to move towards the light. He jerked his head back and glowered at her. "Aredian's witnesses. It wasn't sorcery they were seeing; it was visions brought on by a tincture of belladonna!"
"How was he dosing people?" he asked, finally catching on. "He is too cunning to give it to them directly."
Merlyn thought about their witnesses. "They were all women," she said then realised the weight of that revelation. She grabbed the prince's arm. "Arthur – they were all women!"
He was nonplussed. "Yes?"
"What's the one thing only women would buy?" He looked no more enlightened than before. "Things to make them look beautiful!"
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The trip to the apothecary gave them the proof to confirm their suspicions – and a witness to stand before the King. They left to go prepare their evidence into a viable testimony even as Arthur warned it would be best to find something incontestable. Aredian had Uther's trust and it would take a lot to break that in these circumstances.
"So we need to plant something in the same way he planted something on Gaius," Merlyn stated like it was obvious, intent in her march up the thoroughfare to the castle.
"I'm not sure that's the best way to solve this," Arthur argued, keeping pace alongside. "We need to be honest in our approach."
"Gaius is suffering because Aredian knew how to play the game and how to manipulate the King. Gaius was trusted and looked how protected he was!"
Arthur stopped and turned to her, arms folded in front as she halted also. "So your option is to lower yourself to his standard?"
Merlyn scowled, meeting his pose with her own crossed arms, "I don't plan to hurt anyone with my methods," she retorted. "But if it came down to Gaius and the Witchfinder," she said his title with disgust, "I wouldn't even hesitate."
He stared at her for a long moment, gauging something in her expression before he sighed and dropped his arms. "We need to plan this carefully. Any hint of foul play and we'll be the ones under investigation."
They started walking again in silence, but Merlyn could see Arthur chewing on some words. Usually he was a blurt first, think second kind of talker so this hesitancy was odd.
"Have you…" he began then stopped and tried again. "You're on first name basis with the apothecary."
He stated it as an observation, but it felt open ended, like a question.
"He and Gaius trade and sell often," she said, unsure what he wanted to know. "I'm usually the intermediary."
"So you don't… Have you ever bought… beauty products from him?" he seemed damned and determined to keep his eyes forward as he asked this.
She chuckled at the odd question, baffled. Where was he going with this? He looked so uncomfortable and the question was bizarre. "I spend all my money on Sunstrider and sending letters to my mother," she told him, trying to catch his gaze but failing as he avoided eye contact. "Private messengers aren't cheap you know."
The droll answer fell flat when he didn't crack a smile.
"Good," he said, kicking a loose stone. "Because it'd be a waste of money."
She stopped short, stung he would say such a cruel thing. After several paces, Arthur realised she was no longer at his side and turned to face her, expression a little sheepish.
"I can't believe you said that to me," she uttered in disbelief and, dare she admit, hurt. He thought her so ugly beauty enhancements wouldn't work?
He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I meant that with the best of intentions," he fumbled. "Just – you don't need it. It's all a waste of money."
Her brain ground to a halt as she realised he hadn't meant it as an insult but – as a compliment? "Oh," she breathed, the affront burning in her chest fizzling out like water poured over flames. "I thought –" she cut herself off with an amused snort, shaking her head at her automatic defensiveness. "Right. Well, er… thanks."
"Right," he said, staring at her as if surprised by her calm reaction. He dropped the hand scrubbing at his hair and appeared unsure as to what his next action should be. He threw a thumb over his shoulder; "Witchfinder?"
"Yes," she agreed, happy to jump on the distraction and leave that whole confusing conversation behind. "Let's free Gaius."
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To be sure no one would notice anything missing from the archives, Arthur used Merlyn's confiscated items to plant within Aredian's room, which he had kept from the larger collection so he didn't have to register where they'd been found. She wanted to protest – she didn't want her book damaged or her poultices dismantled – but Gaius' health and safety was more important than some keepsakes, even if they were cherished.
Arthur insisted on placing the items in the chamber alone that evening, leaving her as lookout behind a nearby tapestry with a handful of linen as a prop. Thankfully, Aredian was busy with whatever Aredian did instead of sleeping (don't think about him hurting Gaius) and Arthur emerged unseen.
Next – and, boy, Merlyn was glad she didn't have to do it – Arthur headed to wake the King and inform him of the new evidence. They'd contemplated leaving it until dawn when the whole castle would be awake, but Merlyn hadn't been able to abide leaving Gaius to suffer longer than needed.
A small council was cobbled together in the Throne Room and Aredian brought forth to face Merlyn's accusations – Arthur stayed by the King as an impartial observer but just knowing he was secretly on her side gave her confidence to face the King with his irritated glare.
The apothecary, David, pulled through and admitted who gave him the belladonna tincture but Aredian was dismissive in his declaration of lies and dared accuse Merlyn of desperation. She barely stopped herself from leaping at him like some feral beast. Of course I'm desperate, she snarled. You're torturing my uncle!
Instead she met his glare with her own, unbowed by his silent promise of retribution.
I'm not afraid of you.
"Father... let's settle this once and for all. If what Merlyn says is wrong, she must bear the consequences. But if there is some truth in what she claims..."
Bless you, Arthur.
Aredian met the King's questioning eyes and said confidently, "I have nothing to hide."
The assembly moved to Aredian's room alongside a handful of guards and the soldiers set about quickly dismantling everything to find any hint of dishonesty. She was quietly pleased they were using the same method Aredian demanded in the search of Gaius' chamber, breaking things apart and tearing through papers without regard for order.
"You're wasting your time," Aredian said to the King, calm in the belief he was protected.
Arthur directed some men to the cupboard holding the belladonna petals. Inside, rows of deadly nightshade tincture were lined up neatly on the second shelf. On the top, a magical book lay.
"Sire," said a guard, stepping aside so the royals could see the stock.
Aredian stormed over, expression irate before he angrily declared, "These things don't belong to me!" he turned to Merlyn, realisation reddening his face. "This is a trick! The girl plots against me!"
He stormed over but Arthur stopped him from getting too close, pushing on his chest with a glare of warning.
"You continue to defend your statement?" the King asked for confirmation, and Aredian turned to him with a scoff.
"Of course!" he cried and jabbed a finger at Merlyn. "She has obviously concocted this scenario to free the physician! I have heard of you girl; there's a price out for your head."
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she hastily rearranged it when the King turned to her, confusion breeding anger in his countenance. "Merlyn?" he prompted, and she shook her head, denying any knowledge.
The Witchfinder bared his teeth in a menacing smile. "The warlord Hengist kidnapped the girl weeks ago, but she escaped and took another with her. Do you know how she escaped, Uther?" he met the King's eyes and said, "Sorcery. One of the men confirms it, having seen it with his own eyes. The sickly power she possesses."
Merlyn's heart was thumping in her throat, simultaneously wondering how Aredian learned the information and fearing the repercussions if the King believed him.
"Is this true?" the King demanded, turning to her with mistrust. Everything was slipping out of control.
"I-I did escape, sire, as I told Prince Arthur. I snuck out through the Wilddeoren tunnels. The man he is speaking of might be Kendrick. He-he didn't like me."
The King closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "Did you or did you not use magic to escape?"
"I did not," she declared, hands curled into fists and clammy with anxiety. She tried to keep herself from panting or blinking too much, knowing more than her own life hung in the balance. Think of Gaius.
She steeled her nerves and lifted her chin. "I do not use magic. I serve this kingdom faithfully. If I was a sorceress, the Witchfinder would have found something when he ransacked my uncle's chambers, instead of having to plant evidence."
She raised a pointed eyebrow at the incensed man and Arthur was forced to give him a shove to stop him lunging at her.
"Enough!" the King commanded, clearly irritated with the proceedings. "Restrain him."
The guards in the room flocked towards the Witchfinder and twisted his arms behind his back to keep him under control.
"Don't you see what is happening?" Aredian demanded, struggling against his captors. "The girl is using her powers against me!"
The King waved the men towards the door. "Take him to the dungeons. I will need to sort through this new information."
Merlyn gave Arthur a nudge to the back and the prince spoke up; "What of Gaius?"
The King rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Bring him to the Council Chambers. I will question him myself. Arthur, log these items and take them to the vaults."
With that, the monarch left.
The instant they were alone, Merlyn grabbed Arthur's arm and bounced up and down, unable to contain her glee. "We did it!" she crowed. "We did it!"
"Hush Merlyn," Arthur scolded, though his lips were tugging up in amusement. "Gaius isn't free yet."
"If the King has any integrity, he will realise Gaius was framed in the same way the apothecary was blackmailed. And the King cares for Gaius; he will take this opportunity to free his friend."
"For how much he has done wrong, you still seem to believe he has a good heart," Arthur remarked, his confusion apparent.
Merlyn stared back at him, equally confused. "I believe he does have good in his heart," she said. "It's been twisted by pain and grief, but he still tries his best for the people he rules, even if it is in the only way he knows how. It doesn't excuse his behaviour, nor his terrible decisions, but he isn't unfeeling. Actually, I think he feels too much and paid the price for it."
Arthur laughed hollowly. "Nobody has ever accused the King of feeling too much," he said, and she detected a child's neglect in the undertone of his offhand remark.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again," she said, holding onto his forearm so he would listen. "I would never want to be Uther Pendragon. He rules this kingdom with an iron fist because it seems he fears showing emotion is showing weakness. I know it's not – you know it's not – but something must have showed him compassion and mercy will bring only pain and betrayal. Imagine that, Arthur, fearing any show of favouritism, of leniency, will bring about your ruin." She shook her head, shuddering at thinking in such a way. "I'd die of loneliness."
Arthur was staring at her like she was a foreign creature. "Is this truly what you believe?" he asked.
"How can I not?" she countered, gracing him with a wry smile. "I know he can love – he broke an unbreakable spell grieving your death less than a week ago. If that isn't powerful, pure devotion, I don't know what is."
He looked away, words seemingly deserted him, so she left him to think and went to the cabinet with her magic book inside. She picked it up and ran a hand over the familiar front, soft brown leather with a weathered, stylised flower melded atop in metal, matching the design on the edging and clasps. "Hello," she greeted nostalgically, cracking the spine to flick through pages as well-known as a favoured blanket. Thankfully, no silverfish or booklice had gotten to the ink, leaving it as pristine as when she'd cared for it. Hopefully, one day, she'd care for it again.
She ignored the rising burn in her wrist, unsure if it was the proximity to the magic book or her own imagination. Though it hardly mattered; the scorch was an old friend by now.
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It took under an hour for the King to release Gaius after questioning him, the Court Physician admitting that he had been protecting Merlyn when he confessed to owning the amulet. Merlyn didn't know what was said between them, but the King's controlled veneer had cracked when she came to guide her uncle back to his chambers for rest. She didn't dare meet the monarch's eyes, the guilt and confusion he displayed too raw for her to handle without wanting to offer comfort. And she may pity the man his struggles with emotion, but she was also, very sensibly, terrified of him.
She had a warm broth from the kitchen brought up by George and fussed over Gaius as he ate, guilt stabbing dully in her gut at failing to tidy the place before he returned.
"I'll have it cleaned in no time," she told him as she collected a handful of tonics to feed him once he had something in his belly. "I've already made the bed, so you can go to sleep as soon as you've eaten. Unless you wish to bathe first? I can go fetch some water, though it'll take a while to heat without help – or I could take my pails to the castle bathhouse and steal some of their hot water. I'm sure no one would mind since everyone was outraged with how you had been treated. It rattled many of the nobles – several worried they would be targeted, though why they would think so, I have no idea. None have a connection to magic that I know of. Regardless, they wouldn't care if I took some from the boiled pots for you."
"I'm fine, dear girl," Gaius said, a faint note of fond exasperation in his voice. "Come. Sit with me. It's been too long since we've eaten together."
"I will," she promised. "Let me just steep this into a tea." She lifted the jar of leaf blend; "Chamomile with ginger. To help you sleep and fight off any sickness creeping in after your stay in the dungeons."
"I do not think I will have any trouble with sleeping," he said wryly, his blinks heavy and his shoulders slumped.
She smiled tightly. "All the same." She knew from after the assault in Ealdor, exhaustion did not mean easy rest. Nightmares and anxiety were terrible enemies to battle with slumber for they almost always came out victorious.
Once the water boiled, she took it from the flames and added the herbs, bringing it to the table to sit while she added some honey to the mugs then lined up the other tonics she wanted him to drink before retiring. Afterwards, she settled across from him and watched as he lingered over his meal.
"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly. "Truly?"
Gaius glanced up and met her eyes before he replaced his spoon in the bowl to give her his full attention, obviously seeing the worry she tried to contain. He looked at his arms as he self-evaluated and said honestly, "Achy. Tired. Aredian did not physically harm me, but he did not leave me in peace, constantly niggling, throwing water upon me, dragging me to and from my cell, trying to twist my words every time I opened my mouth… it is nothing a few days' rest and a good meal or two will not cure."
"Along with a few remedies to help you on your way," she added sternly, daring him to argue.
Instead, his lips pulled up in resigned amusement and he dipped his head. "Along with a few tonics," he agreed.
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Aredian was summarily banished from Camelot on pain of death when he eventually admitted to planting the amulet – probably seeing his denial was doing no favours. He still argued against owning the other magical paraphernalia, but his standing was tarnished – therefore, his accusations towards Merlyn were dismissed also, thank the Fates.
She still wondered how he had escaped with his life – hoodwinking the King seemed something to warrant a death penalty – but Gaius explained, while Aredian was only a minor lord, his reputation made him renowned to the Five Kingdoms and it granted him some measure of protection. She thought it bogus one man with terrible misdeeds to his name could walk away with a slapped wrist while another without any status could be flogged for a mistaken transgression without apology.
Her mind went to Favian and the other guards who were punished for allowing Morgana to flee the castle. Each one had made a full recovery in body but the memory of the deliberate trauma at the hands of their leader had left scars not so easily faded. It was obvious in their eyes to anyone with eyes when they had been offered their positions back – by a messenger and with no apology for their treatment.
It all made Merlyn furious, and she ranted to Arthur for a solid time in his chambers. Surprisingly, he suffered in silence, letting her air her grievances without audible sniping or groaning, which had her ire losing momentum after several, heavily-edited, remarks about his father.
She huffed and turned to see Arthur slouched lazily in his chair, feet up on the table while he munched on an apple. He had an amused grin on his face as he watched her pace.
"What?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips and daring him to belittle her wrath.
He shook his head but said, "Still think he's a poor, emotionally-hurt soul?"
She glowered at him. "Even good men can make stupid decisions," she countered. "In fact, they're usually more monumentally stupid because they try to be brave and noble." She stuck out her tongue pointedly.
He snorted and took a large bite of his apple. "And you call me the immature one," he mumbled through his chewing.
She frowned as a fleck of apple went flying. "Finish what's in your mouth before you speak," she scolded, and he threw his head back and laughed.
The last of her anger dissipated and she rolled her eyes at him. Honestly, the things she had to put up with.
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Merlyn visited Morgana once Arthur had trotted off to train with his knights, to see how the noblewoman fared after everything had settled.
"Merlyn," the woman greeted softly after Farah had granted her entrance, reclined on the sun lounge with a book. She looked tired.
"How are you, Morgana?" she asked as she approached. Morgana pulled up her legs so Merlyn could sit at the end.
The noble graced her with a weary smile and closed her book. "Farah, you're welcome to lunch if you wish. I'll be fine for a couple of hours with Merlyn."
"Thank you, My Lady," Farah said with a curtsy and left in her quiet, unassuming manner.
Once the door was sealed behind her, Morgana graced Merlyn with a disgruntled pout. "My nightmares have worsened once more. But the visions are murky, and I cannot remember them when I wake."
"Is this better or worse than remembering?" she asked, shuffling back until her shoulders touched the wall then grabbed Morgana's legs and placed them across her lap, resituating the skirt of the dress for propriety.
"Worse," Morgana groaned, flopping her head back. "I remember none of the events, but I still feel the dread and the fear. I just don't know why!"
"Do you think it's a by-product of the worry we had with Aredian?" she asked. She knew she had nightmares when stress ate at her nerves.
Morgana hummed thoughtfully and admitted, "I don't know. It feels… like the catalyst for Camelot's future is about to be set in motion."
"That… sounds ominous," Merlyn admitted, her belly clenching at the thought.
"Can you show me the butterfly again?" Morgana blurted in a childlike tone, tentative and hopeful.
Apprehension crawled up her spine like a spider, dread shuddering across her skin.
"I-I can't," she said, fumbling for a viable excuse. "Why don't you try to make a flame from the candle wick?"
Morgana eyed her in confusion. "Aredian is not a threat anymore, Merlyn," she assured. "You need not worry about being seen, particularly within my room."
"That's not it," she said softly, avoiding Morgana's gaze. The highborn was still so vulnerable, balancing on a knife's edge between embracing who she was and hating the King for turning her kind into monsters. The last thing Merlyn wanted to do was admit she couldn't because Arthur had, essentially, condemned magic like his father.
"I would simply prefer to watch you practice," she added after a pause.
"And I the same for you," Morgana argued, pushing herself upright with a frown. "Your magic is far more advanced than my own. Is it too much to ask that I see what all this struggle will bring?"
Merlyn pressed her lips together to stop herself from nibbling at them. "It is today," she said softly.
Morgana completely removed herself from the sun lounge, standing before the black-haired girl with her arms crossed. "What is wrong?" she asked, suspicious and concerned. "You can trust me."
"Please drop it, Morgana," she pled, but the woman shook her head.
"No. You are acting strangely." She tilted her head with a worried frown and added, "You have… felt off since you were ill. But I thought it was something personal, not… not related to sorcery. What is wrong, Merlyn? Tell me."
The black-haired girl gritted her teeth but obediently pulled back her left sleeve, revealing the iron cuff and her reddened flesh. Morgana stared at it with wide eyes, hand reaching out, but just shy of touching, she gasped and recoiled.
"What is it?" she whispered, body twisting in aversion and Merlyn belatedly realised she could sense the foul magic.
But of course she could; she was a magical being just like Merlyn and Kilgarrah.
"Why does it feel…" She wiggled her fingers in search of the correct verb but soon settled with, "Wrong?"
"It's… it's a Suppressing Cuff," she explained reluctantly, just knowing Morgana's alarm was going to spike at learning such a device existed. She rolled her sleeve back over the band, unable to gaze at it long without feeling ill. "For my magic."
Morgana stared in disbelief before she cried, "What? Why do you have that upon your wrist? Who did this to you? How?"
"Um," Merlyn dithered, grimacing in reluctance. "Arthur discovered I possess magic."
"So he – he shackled you?" she demanded, shock slowly converting into anger. "How could he even… how could he… that's – that's monstrous! How could he do that to you?"
"Morgana," Merlyn said softly, trying to ease her temper. Nothing good had ever come out of the noblewoman's rage-fuelled actions. "He is still blinded by his father's belief."
"That is no excuse!" the woman cried. "He is old enough to see beyond Uther's lies! And to-to force that upon you…"
"Arthur didn't put this on me," Merlyn interrupted gently, trying to bring calm. "He… yes, he pushed me to create it, but he – when the time came, he couldn't do it. He banished me instead. That's why I was away from Camelot; I was returning to Ealdor. But there was a man, a hunter – Hengist has a bounty on me for escaping him – and the hunter tracked me. He found the Cuff after I buried it and-and forced it upon me. I don't… I remember little after until I was found by Arthur in a clearing."
There was a short silent as Morgana seemed to process everything she'd divulged. Eventually, she spoke in a whisper; "I didn't know such… contraptions existed." Her features were drawn in horror. "Does he know about me?"
"Of course not!" Merlyn exclaimed, jumping to her feet to reassure the other woman. "I've told no one, and I never will without your permission. Arthur only acted so because he refused to turn me over to the King. Does that not prove he is changing, even a little?"
"His actions are that of a cruel master, not a kind one, Merlyn. You cannot be so blinded by your emotions you do not see."
"Arthur is not the same man he was when he demanded this," she argued, feeling defensive. "He's learning to accept people for their values and not their status. He is not happy I wear the Cuff now, that much I know."
"He still follows his father," Morgana accused. "It does not matter his opinion if he does not act on it."
"Growth takes time," Merlyn said earnestly, hands pressed together in a silent plea for her to listen. "He helped Mordred against his father's wishes. He kept quiet on the red cloaked sorcerer even before knowing it was me because he acknowledged they helped him. Arthur respects the King too much to betray him so blatantly. And-and sometimes, subtlety is better than boldness."
"But to welcome magic back completely? To lift the ban and to embrace sorcery?" she said scathingly, turning away from Merlyn's visual entreaty. "I do not think he is capable of it. He clearly had no trouble robbing you of your identity."
Merlyn clenched her teeth and dropped her hands. "Morgana. You are my friend, but I believe you're wrong. To presume someone's limit is arrogant and condescending. You need to see what people are but still believe they can be capable of so much more. It is as you said: the future is upon us, and we need to make decisions to bring forth the age of Albion. If we fail, we doom our kin to more years of oppression with no hope for acceptance. I have to believe Arthur will come around, or else… or else what am I fighting for?"
Morgana said nothing for a long time, eyes cast towards the window and the weak sunlight piercing the clouds. Her jaw was jutted, and her lips pressed sternly together; none of it a good demeanour for compromise.
Finally, she spoke. "Why does the future hinge on Arthur's acceptance of us?" The slight inflection on the name caused worry to buzz in Merlyn's head. "He is but one prince in a large land of mighty kingdoms." She pulled her gaze away from the window and met Merlyn's once more. The defiance in her green glare was alarming. "I will not let myself be caged like you have. My dreams may feel like a curse and my magic is terrifying…" she tucked her hands to her chest and looked down at Merlyn's forearm, where the Cuff was hidden from sight, if not from sense. "But that… that is an abomination, and you should be ashamed to have created it at all."
Merlyn felt her cheeks heat at the disgust in her tone, humiliation rising at the judgement of one she held dear. But she was angry at the shame, angry Morgana had managed to summon the feeling, and her temper flared from a simmer to a boil, influenced, no doubt, by the smelling salts effect on her emotions.
"I acted in the interest of Albion," she retorted, trying to banish the embarrassed blush from her face. "I put my faith in Arthur – he will learn to accept magic."
"You did nothing more than let him continue in his ignorance!" Morgana shot back, irate. "If you had made a stand. Forced him to accept you as you are – not as some-some lovesick girl willing to change herself for him –"
"I cannot believe you would think me so shallow!" Merlyn snapped, riled with offense. "I would never – I'm trying to show him magic is not evil and does not corrupt! I couldn't do that if I had run away like you tried to do. He needs time to understand his father is wrong about us. He needs to see."
"No," Morgana denied, hands clenching into fists. "He's old enough to make his own decisions. He's done it before against Uther's wishes – just recently with the ridiculous taxes the troll tried to impose. But he still wants to think magic is evil." Her eyes dropped to Merlyn's wrist again, probably still sensing the sharp iciness of Wrong. "He's no better than Uther."
"He's ten times the man his father is," Merlyn growled, hackles raising at the insult.
"How can you say that?" the highborn demanded in a shrill tone, mouth agape in disbelief.
"Because I know him!" she shouted. "I've been there every step of the way for the past year, and I've seen him change from the arrogant knight you knew to the Crown Prince of Camelot! A true prince – one who has compassion and empathy!"
"If he really had changed, he would have accepted you as you are instead of trying to put a shackle on your wrist like a prisoner! I can't –" she turned away abruptly, moving away as if Merlyn's very presence was poison. "You have betrayed yourself and your kind. I cannot be near you right now."
Merlyn was stunned, her anger knocked flat as the reality of the noblewoman's words sunk in. "Morgana," she breathed, taking a step towards her friend.
The highborn held up a hand without looking towards her. "Just go, Merlyn. I thought you were my ally here in Camelot. You said you would be by my side, helping me…" she shook her head. "Just go."
"I –"
"Leave!"
Merlyn left.
Morgana waited until the door was closed before she covered her leaking eyes with shaking fingers.
.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.¸¸...¸¸.·´¨`»«´¨`·.
Ahem…
TBC…
