The Government of the Guilty

Arthur knew he was dreaming. It was as clear to him as the fact he stood in the entrance hall of the citadel despite the haze distorting most of his surroundings. His steps echoed disproportionally loud in the silence, each tap of his heel-toe announcing his progress across the floor, but he ignored it as he aimed for the double doors leading to the courtyard. His fingers barely grazed the handle when they swept smoothly outward to reveal a heavy mist stretching colours into shapeless masses; he felt as if there was a wall between him and the outside.

"Who are you?"

The voice was unknown, but Arthur didn't jump, somehow having expected it even though he had been alone. It was neither male or female, not deep nor soft. It simply… was.

His eyes didn't stray from the entranceway, searching for something in the mist, though he answered softly, "I am Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot."

"A name does not make a man," the voice intoned. "Who are you?"

A pinch of puzzlement quirked on his brow, eyes raking over the mist. He thought deeply for an answer and a glimpse of a face made itself known from the haze, indistinct but unforgettable. A quirk of a cheeky smile capturing his interest before it dissipated back into colours.

"I am… someone who makes mistakes."

"Do you repent those mistakes?"

Interest sharpened his awareness, but his gaze stayed glued ahead.

"If I am able."

"A man is always able. But the cost can be dangerous."

"That is my burden to bear."

"A leader never suffers alone."

"I will do anything."

"Even watch your kingdom burn?"

Before him, the haze sharpened, mist swept away as if by a great wind. In its wake, Camelot spread before him, a view only garnered from atop a distant hill despite still standing in the entryway of the castle.

The city was in ruins, spires and towers decimated from heavy artillery. Flames chased the heavy black smoke into the sky, turning day into a red twilight. The lower town was naught but debris, bloated corpses strewn amongst the rubble; children, mothers, husbands, and soldiers left as carrion for the crows and flies. The smell was choking, sickly sweet and thick with burning, hitting the back of his throat like scratching nails even from his place so far away.

He turned his head away in horror.

"What is made cannot be unmade. What is done cannot be undone. But balance can be met."

"If it means I wear the consequences for what I did, so be it."

"Then a trade. Her freedom… for yours."

Arthur hesitated, the image of Camelot burning vivid in his mind.

"Will Camelot survive?"

"Camelot will survive."

Arthur looked back towards the entranceway; the scenery swept away by the haze once more. He heard faint laughter, joyful and carefree. Merlyn's.

"I'll do it."

He awoke sucking in a breath of air, lungs starved for oxygen. Eyes opening, he gazed up at the canopy of his four-poster bed, barely discernible from the shadows of the night as the dying fire glowed dull red. Slowly, he sat up, bare chest feeling the chill as his blankets slid to his waist, though he paid it no mind as he considered the peculiar dream.

It had been vivid, colour and smells and the voice as clear as crystal, but the more he reflected, the less clear it became. He remembered Camelot burning, his people littered as garbage amongst the rubble, and the voice… the voice asking for a price.

A log in the fire popped unexpectedly, breaking his concentration. He stared at the embers blankly, before flopping back onto his pillow and rolling onto his side. He must have drunk too much wine at dinner; his nerves for the morrow getting the best of him. But he needed to rest if he wanted to be of any use to Gaius and Merlyn, so he closed his eyes and counted swords until he fell back to sleep.

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Prep was swift and efficient the next day. Gaius handed Arthur a list of supplies before leaving for his morning rounds and the prince wasted no time collecting everything upon it. Sir Leon had lead on the morning's training session with the knights and Arthur avoided areas his father might visit so he wasn't caught in another confrontation, granting no other obligations than of seeing Merlyn well again.

He returned to the Physician's Chamber well ahead of Gaius, staring around the empty space before dumping his armful onto the table and sneaking up to the back room. He didn't knock, not wanting to wake Merlyn if she was resting, but hesitated before pushing the door open lest she be midway through dressing.

She was doing neither, sitting up in bed with her eyes turned towards the small window to watch the small slice of the outside world. As high up as they were, only a sliver of sky and cloud was visible, but it held her attention until he poked his head around the frame.

The smile she bestowed upon him was more than he deserved, but it warmed his heart nonetheless. He was helpless not to smile back.

"Arthur," she greeted tenderly, and he stepped into the room, leaving the door wide open behind him for propriety's sake.

"Merlyn," he replied, just as softly but with uncertainty. He inched closer, wavering over sitting at the end of the bed and toeing immodesty, or remaining upright to loom over her reclined frame. "How are you?"

She patted the edge of the bed in invitation, taking the decision out of his hands, and he gratefully sank onto the mattress only to withhold a grimace at the lumpy design. This would not do.

"Better," she said firmly, drawing his eyes back to her. "I wish you hadn't seen."

He shook his head firmly. "I should know what it's doing to you, more than anyone. Why didn't you tell me? Or better: why didn't you tell Gaius? If we had known, the search for a solution could have begun earlier. You wouldn't be – things might not be as bad as they are now."

She dropped her gaze, as if with shame, and Arthur cursed his stupid mouth. He hadn't meant to cast blame, since the only one guilty was himself; he'd only wanted to express his sorrow for her secrecy. He opened his mouth to apologise but she spoke before the words left his lips.

"I was afraid," she revealed on a whisper, breaking his heart. "I was warned again and again of the risks in creating the Cuff, yet I did it anyway. And then… then the burning. The numbness. The-the –" she wiggled her fingers near her temple, "– the fading. I realised I'd made a terrible mistake. But by then it was too late. It was bad so fast and there was nothing I could do." She paused, seeming to steel herself before she added even quieter, "I was afraid to let myself admit what I'd done is give myself an execution date, and my time drew near."

"There is hope yet," Arthur blurted desperately. If there was one person who shouldn't ever lose hope, it was Merlyn. She was too light, too pure, to suffer the pit of despair. "This may work – and even if it doesn't, there are options; places not yet explored, and opportunities not yet tried. Keep faith, because I have no plans to let you go while there is breath in my body."

"You may not have a choice," she murmured, ducking her eyes away from his as if his earnestness was too much for her to bear. "Some ills cannot be cured."

"But all mistakes can be corrected if one tries hard enough."

"Arthur…"

"You will be better, Merlyn. Promise me you will not give up. If today fails, do not give up. I will fix this."

She shook her head slowly, eyes closing as if the effort to keep them open was too much. "I want to hope," she said on a tired sigh. "But it is so hard. I've made so many stupid choices."

"As have I," he said firmly. "Even before this, I was arrogant and naïve, yet you saw something in me no one else ever had. You made me better than I ever would have been on my own, so trust me when I say I will not stop until you are cured. Not even if the world fell to ruin tomorrow."

She stared at him, eyes flicking over his features as if she was etching each detail into her memory, inking each flaw and failing into her brain. Her gaze traced over his brow, down his nose, around his lips, skirting his cheeks and flicking off his chin like her eyes were creating him from canvas. He, this creature, was what existed from the arrogant child of the past, the learning curve of adulthood creating him anew. This was him, all his errors made clear.

Merlyn finally met his eyes, blue latching onto blue with an intensity that rattled him. "I trust you will try your hardest," she said. "I know regret can drive people to do extraordinary things, and… and when it is a friend, everything is worsened. Recklessness takes hold. Please don't do something that will bring you harm. Everything I have done is to help you be the best king you can be, but it is all for naught if you throw it away."

"I am worth nothing without you, Merlyn," he hissed. "If I cannot save you from what I, myself, have caused, then there is little hope for my future, as it is. Regardless of destinies or hierarchies or-or nobility, you are important, and I will not stand back if there is a way to help, even if it means spilling a little blood."

She blinked, eyes dropping to her blanket-covered lap while the fingers of her good hand twisted into the fabric. Her injured arm was wrapped from fingertip to elbow, leaving the limb useless upon her thigh and he swallowed at remembering exactly what damage was hidden beneath those white bindings.

"How, er, how is your arm? How is it feeling?"

The moment the question was out of his mouth, he felt stupid for asking.

Merlyn glanced at the aforementioned limb, oblivious to his internal chastisement as she mulled thoughtfully. "No change," she finally answered.

"Good," he said, nodding awkwardly at the vague answer. "That-that's – I mean, not good. It's just – it's not, er… terrible."

He glanced away, mentally slapping himself in the face.

A faint smile was twitching at her lips, and he tried to save the conversation. "You should eat; you need to keep your strength."

The smile faded from her face like it had never been. "Anything I eat will likely come back up," she stated, and he winced at the thought.

"At least have some tea," he pressed. "Something in your stomach is better than nothing."

She conceded his point with a nod and shuffled to the edge of the bed, rising on shaky legs. His arms hovered nearby lest she fall, but after an initial tremble, she steadied enough to move, looking much like an old maid as she shuffled down the stairs to the main chamber. She settled herself slowly at the table and he released a relieved breath, leaving her side to go to the fireplace.

Arthur had never made a pot of tea in his life, the servants too prompt for him ever to worry about it, but he felt he could work it out with little hassle – how hard could it be? First step; stir up the coals so the fresh wood would catch quickly.

He felt Merlyn's eyes on him as he hovered by the fireplace, eyes darting around in search of the pot before he found it in its place and moved to top it up with the pail of rainwater under the eaves. He was quite proud of himself as he hooked the full pot up above the crackling fire, turning away to find the tea blends to add once the water heated.

"Shelf over there," Merlyn instructed, and he glanced her way to see a tired but amused smile upon her lips. As his servant, she would understand this oddity for what it was, and seemed be enjoying his reaction at completing the simple task. He grinned back shamelessly and followed her directions to the assortment of infusions on a set of shelves above the long counter, stalling a bit as he stared at the long list of selections. Chamomile, mint, comfrey, lady's mantle, rosemary, willowbark, linden, horehound, oolong, green, white… Arthur's mind boggled at the choices. Where was plain leaf?

A slender hand reached out beside him and picked up a jar of dried, dark sprigs beneath the bottles he was examining, and he stared at Merlyn sheepishly. He hadn't heard her come over.

"Black tea," she said with a shrewd smile, handing him the jar. "This is what you are looking for."

He lifted it to his eye level and scrutinised the mixture within. It did look similar to what he saw in the dregs of his cups, but one never knew. He turned a suspicious eye on the black-haired girl, and she rolled hers fondly.

"That row is for medicinal teas. This one is for personal use." She waved to the one she'd pulled the jar from. "Camellia Sinensis."

"Bless you," he replied, and she laughed softly.

"It's the breed of plant the tea comes from," she explained, and he hummed, the name already gone from his memory.

"I will take your word for it," he said neutrally, and she shot him a knowing look.

She opened her mouth for a retort but was interrupted by the chamber door opening and Gaius returning. The situation sobered quickly as they remembered what was to come.

Preparations were completed quickly, Gaius stirring the flames into a hotter blaze before he strung out a thin, malleable piece of wire in the glowing embers, already looped upon itself like choker cords used on rabid dogs. Arthur's belly churned uneasily when he stared at it, and noticed Merlyn kept her eyes firmly averted, though her composure was admirable.

Merlyn's arm was slathered in an anaesthetic paste and a small vial of dark milky liquid poured down her throat with a disgusted shudder before she finished her tea and a few bites of toasted bread. Gaius deemed the thread ready to use not long later, and the two men shared an apprehensive look as Merlyn's hands began to tremble. Arthur had his own clenched in tight fists, but it didn't stop the cold sweat collecting at the nape of his neck.

Gaius had her settle atop the medical cot and, when he turned away to the fireplace, she turned wide, terrified eyes upon Arthur, pupils blown wide from the opium in her system. He stepped closer, a hand automatically rising to squeeze her shoulder.

"You will be fine," he said, the useless platitudes falling from his lips like vomit. His heart was thudding like a galloping horse in his chest. "Your skin is numb so you should feel nearly nothing. Just-just think of something else – how is Sunstrider?"

"I h-haven't seen him for days," she answered shakily, locking onto his face like he was the only thing saving her from hysteria. "He's… he's unhappy being cooped up even though you extended his stall and included the yard behind it. I'm not giving him the attention he deserves."

"Perhaps after this, we can take him for a long ride beyond the city," he suggested. "Hengroen could do with some leisure riding. We can find one of those hidden gardens you used to mention."

A smile ghosted over her lips, and she reproached lightly, "They are not hidden. Anyone can find them if they look in the right place."

"Here," Gaius interrupted, stepping closer with a twisted bit of cloth tied in a stubby length. "Bite into this when the time comes. It will stop you from breaking your teeth."

She gulped and slowly took the knotted rag from his hands, her own steadying as she clenched it within her fist. Had Arthur been tasked with the same, he was sure his arms would've trembled like an old man.

Gaius retreated to the fireplace and Arthur watched him don a pair of sturdy leather gloves he must have borrowed from a blacksmith before reaching for the clamp attached to the wire. A hand reached out and latched onto his own, attention darting back to Merlyn, who was staring at the glowing wire with wide eyes. He shifted and blocked her view, meeting her eyes when they flicked up to his face. He saw the transformation as she steeled herself, a deep breath settling her tight shoulders as her chin lifted with resolve. She nodded at him, tension and determination riding around her eyes, creasing in the corners of her mouth, jaw rigid with the clench of teeth.

Gaius cleared his throat softly and murmured, "Your arm."

She gulped but lifted the limb, not looking as the physician took it into his hand. Belatedly, Arthur remembered the twisted cloth in her grip and let go so she could place it in her mouth. She glowered at the fabric for a moment before shoving it in her mouth and biting down with a grimace. Her hand sought his again and he obliged, glancing over his shoulder to see Gaius setting the wire into a loose loop that would pass over Merlyn's hand without harm before it could be tightened like a noose around her wrist. The easiest option would have been to burn it by halves but neither wanted to force agony twice if they could help it.

"I need you to hold her elbow so she cannot pull back and hurt herself," Gaius instructed, and Arthur reluctantly loosened his hold on her hand so he could support her arm. Her fingers twisted, instead, into the side of his shirt, and he made sure his leg was pressing against her knee for both their comfort.

"Ready?" Gaius asked, stress causing sweat to dot his forehead.

"Mhmm," Merlyn mumbled through the cloth, voice high with anxiety, and Arthur gulped as the physician carefully moved the loose coil into position over the purple scars.

Gaius took a breath and then slowly tightened the thread until it was a hairsbreadth away from the skin.

Then he pulled tight.

Merlyn reaction was immediate, and Arthur had to tighten his hold to prevent her arm wrenching back. She grunted and arched, leg trembling against his –

An electric snap sizzled the air as a powerful blast violently threw him away. He hit the ground near the table with a wheeze, back jarred by the angle on which he landed, and sound disappeared behind the loud ringing in his ears. He gaped like a landbound fish until his lungs stopped spasming enough to suck in a greedy breath, the shrieking in his eardrums lessening into a whine as he rolled clumsily onto his side. He coughed weakly as his torso moaned in protest, blinking his warbling vision back into focus as he tried to understand what happened. Did Merlyn's magic reacted to being freed? Did the Cuff reacted to their attempt to destroy its binding?

He pushed up onto his knees and groaned as his neck sent a sharp complaint down his spine, but movement nearby took priority when he saw Gaius rolling gingerly onto his side, clearly having been blasted back alongside Arthur. The prince jumped unsteadily to his feet and hurried to the old man's side, balance a little askew as his head rushed with blood.

"Are you alright?" he asked, helping him sit upright. "What happened?"

Gaius' eyes were wide, eyebrows pushing to his hairline with shock. "I-I am unsure," he said breathlessly, gazing around the room like it was unfamiliar. Arthur glanced up to check on Merlyn and blanched at the image of her seizing atop the medical cot.

"Merlyn!" he cried, leaping over to stop her from toppling off the mattress, even as her elbow drove into his cheek. He pressed his weight onto her torso to hold her down, hands banding around her forearms so her flailing arms didn't hit him again, but he feared she was going to break something with how viciously her body protested the restraints. "Gaius!"

Thankfully, it was only another handful of terribly long seconds before the intensity of her convulsions eased. Gaius hobbled to his side with a hand pressed to his hip but quickly reached for her scarred arm as Arthur cautiously lifted his weight, panting from exertion.

It took but a moment for the physician to shift the limb so they could gaze at the raised purple marks decorating her wrist – the unmarred purple marks. The hot wire had failed to ruin the scars.

"Did you manage to hold it for long enough?" Arthur asked desperately, unable to believe it hadn't worked.

"It was touching for two entire seconds before we were knocked away," Gaius confirmed with despondency. "There should have been noticeable damage."

"So it didn't work," Arthur said, the truth settling on him with cold certainty. "We failed."

Gaius looked away in despair, but the prince was not yet ready to admit defeat.

"There is still a way forward. The moment the treaty is over, I will go to Ealdor myself and beg the aid of a sorcerer. Someone will want the Prince of Camelot in their debt."

"Not just any sorcerer will do," Gaius sighed, looking far too jaded. "It must be one of exceptional power to call upon the White Goddess."

"Whoever they are, I will find them."

"Let us hope so," the old man said gravely, folding his hands within the sleeves of his robes. "For there is little else I can do."

The prophetic words of the Dragon rang through Arthur's mind: Free Merlyn from her shackle or watch your future burn.

It seemed those words might yet come true – just not in the literal sense. If Merlyn died, Arthur didn't know how he could keep going. It seemed a bleak world to venture without her by his side.

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As much as he wanted to stay, Arthur was eventually forced to leave the chamber and return to his princely duties, ushered away by Gaius when too much time had passed in his absence. Normally, paperwork could be delayed a short time during emergencies, but while he substituted his father, his responsibilities had doubled, and prerequisites had already piled on his desk, sanctions and approbations and authorisations requiring his signature. Not to mention the taxes. Dear lord, the taxes.

He thought he'd had paperwork before, but it was nothing to what he had to scroll through now; checking, rechecking, cross-checking, then signing. Errors had to be flagged, discrepancies had to be flagged, oddities had to be flagged, everything not exactly as it should have been had to be flagged.

He was sure there was a Master of Coin somewhere who was supposed to do this work.

He sighed and dropped his quill into the inkpot, lifting his hands to rub his face. He wasn't in the right mindset for this tedious work; his thoughts kept drifting to the predicament with Merlyn, wondering if she'd yet woken, how she was feeling, if their attempt had any lasting effects…

His fingers came to rest on his lips, remembering the kiss they'd shared like a sweet, drunken dream. His recollections of the past day had cleared enough for him to know what he'd done, if not understand the process of his thoughts, and he could only be thankful he had not become aggressive like he had the last time a magician had bewitched his senses in such a way.

It angered him, this-this weakness. This inability to fight off the cloying potency of sorcery. Magic might not be evil, but those who wielded it held a power beyond the regular world. The abilities offered were dangerous and devastating – and it was frightening to realise how vulnerable he was. No matter how much he trained with sword or bow or mace, he would always come second to sorcery, always succumb to its influence.

Yet he was clearheaded now, and he had a chance to retaliate.

Arthur leaned against the high back of his chair as he realised this fact. Alined's plan had been spoiled by Merlyn, meaning the duplicitous king was on the backfoot – did he yet know Arthur had his senses returned?

The prince had a chance at catching him out, forcing his deception into the light before he could regather his wits and attempt another strike at the peace talks.

But, for this, he would need an ally.

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"We need to report Alined to the other Kings," Arthur announced as he burst into the physician's chamber.

The old man jumped at the sudden intrusion, barely saving the vial in his hand from slipping. He clutched it to his chest and glared at Arthur balefully, drawing a wince and careful closure of the door behind him.

Gaius placed the vessel of blue liquid back in its frame before turning and settling his hands together in front, eyebrows raised expectedly. "Finish your duties so swiftly, sire?" He asked, tone heavy with shrewd disapproval.

"Alined is a threat to the Peace Talks," Arthur said instead of replying with the obvious answer. "If left unchecked, I believe he will try again to sabotage the treaty. I want to report him and have him unanimously sentenced."

"So you wish to start a war in order to prevent one?" The scepticism in his tone rankled, but Arthur kept his annoyance to himself.

"I would have Alined punished for his crimes and the threat he presents removed from play. Not to mention, Lady Vivian is still under his thrall; how is she to be freed if I cannot tell her father what has happened?"

Gaius sighed, craggy features drawn with exhaustion. "To accuse a king of foul play, you will need solid evidence and undeniable proof. We have neither."

"Could we not find some? The spell that bewitched me – would he not have items he used in his-his ritual?"

"We cannot know which enchantment was used. There are innumerable love spells in existence, and they use many different objects for anchors."

"Anchors?"

Gaius elaborated; "Something of sentimental value to tie the object to its owner, or a piece of the body like hair or nails."

Arthur was disgusted, imagining Trickler pawing through his possessions in search of something useful. He hadn't noticed anything important absent from his room, but it did not mean something had not been taken; he owned a lot. "Where would such things be?"

Gaius rubbed at his forehead like he had a headache but answered nonetheless; "The two most likely locations is within your bedchambers or within their rooms, but it is largely contingent to the spell, the item, and your habits."

"Then we will begin in my room and go from there."

"Just remember," the physician said gravely, meeting Arthur's gaze with heavy intent. "Merlyn put everything of herself into working towards a future where peace reigns – ones which consequently led to her illness. Do not waste that effort by causing a war. There are ways to repay wrongdoing beyond bloodshed."

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Arthur was nervous but determined as he and Gaius stood before the five kings, feeling the scrutiny of their heavy gazes on his person like physical pressure. Bayard and Rodor were irritable, their frustration at the stalled peace talks in favour of personal issues obvious in their glowers. Olaf scowled heavily, his proud brow drawn low over his blue eyes while Arthur's father stood behind his throne, gloved hand clenched around the back as he watched warily, ignorant to the subject of why Arthur had summoned the kings – as were they all.

Alined stared at him with suspicion and uneasiness, clearly unsure whether the love spell still held. Trickler must have shared his odd behaviour this morning, and it reassured Arthur his swift reaction was just. No time for the foul king to counter his failed plot, nor hide away the evidence, which Gaius held in his hands, ready to cinch Arthur's accusations with proof.

"Why have you summoned us?" Bayard demanded gruffly, fingers tapping impatiently against the table. The incident earlier that day had evidently lessened his tolerance for disruption.

Arthur squared his shoulders and stood at parade rest. "I convened the five kings to bring to light a matter falling under the banner of the burgeoning peace treaty, and thus, should be settled by all five kings collectively."

"And what is this matter?" his father asked, looking warier than before.

Arthur barely acknowledged him as he glanced over the other four rulers, settling lastly on Alined.

"Sabotage," he stated and watched the man's calm façade falter. He clearly hadn't expected Arthur to retaliate so directly.

"In what way? And by whom?" demanded Bayard. Of all the kings, he was the one who sought peace the most, willing to bury old hatchets and smooth over long-drawn issues to find accord. He would find this issue almost as insulting as the men whose children were targeted.

Arthur shifted aside, and Gaius stepped up to place two twists of hair on the table; one short, sandy blonde and the other longer, butter-yellow. No hair bundled thus was used for anything legal within Camelot.

"These were found beneath Prince Arthur and Lady Vivian's pillows," Gaius said formally, tucking his hands together beneath his wide sleeves as he met Uther's alert gaze. "Hair is a very common ingredient used in love spells, a perfect anchor to bewitch one's mind towards the intended target."

Rodor, as the closest to Gaius, picked up one of the locks and inspected it with his novice eyes, a frown pushing his grey brows together. The rest of the kings straightened at the information, the threat of sorcery not one to be taken lightly.

"So you claim my daughter's actions were not her own? That's she's been ensorcelled?" Olaf demanded, looking incensed at the idea.

"Only yesterday I was bewitched and sought to woo Lady Vivian," Arthur admitted. "She declined my advances quite thoroughly. There is no way her attitude would change so drastically without outside motivation. It is well known King Olaf is protective of his daughter; an advance by me would be met with hostility. It is my belief this was the aim behind the act."

"You believe one among us desires war instead of peace?" asked Rodor, taken aback by the idea.

Arthur took a breath and revealed, "Speculation is not necessary for I know who is the perpetrator."

Alined thumped his fist on the table and groused, "How do we not know this is an act to cover up your folly this morn? Lady Vivian is, indeed, a lovely young woman, and you a virile young man; how do we know you were not simply caught in the act and are now covering your backside?"

"Have care how you speak, Alined," warned Uther and the other man dipped his head with a forced, apologetic smile. Olaf's cheeks were flushed in anger.

Arthur glared at the coward and retorted, "As you are the one who concocted this scheme, betraying the spirit of this treaty with your actions, you know my words are not false, Alined of Deorham."

It was a small gratification to exclude his title as King; the man did not deserve the recognition.

There was an outcry of disbelief and Olaf jumped to his feet. Alined pushed himself up as well, knuckles pressed against the table as he growled, "Lies! How dare you accuse me of sorcery. I have never dabbled in the dark art!"

The prince said loudly to be heard over the grumbling kings, "I did not accuse you of casting the spells yourself. That act belongs to your jester, Trickler. But it is you who devised the plot to see two kingdoms at war, our peace talks in ruins, and you, rich off our discord."

"Prove it," the coward snarled and there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"A thorough search of Alined's chambers should give us the evidence we need," he said decisively, glancing over the other kings. "And detaining and interrogating Trickler, as the one who cast the spell, will give us a verbal admission."

"This is how you treat your royal guests?" Alined demanded, swinging towards Uther in outrage. "Casting accusations and demanding to rifle through one's things as if you were little more than a thief? All on the word of a spoilt boy?"

Camelot's king drew himself up, glaring at the other man. "Arthur is not just a boy, he is a knight and Prince of Camelot, and he has a right to be heard at our table." His gaze flicked to his son before moving over the other monarchs. "An accusation of sorcery and sabotage is not to be taken lightly."

"It is a disturbing accusation and a dangerous one to make against a king," said Rodor. His elbows were on the arms of his chair as his fingers rested in a steeple over his lap, the very picture of contemplation as he scrutinised both Arthur and Alined. "But what I know of the Prince of Camelot does not paint him as a man of fables." He sat forward, eyes now locked on the foreign ruler. "I would have this matter solved before we sign any treaties. Honesty and integrity are a must if we wish to usher our kingdoms into a time of unity. If we are not sincere in our dealings, then all we strive for will perish."

"I agree," Bayard proclaimed. "I vote we get to the bottom of this. I want to know if we have a traitor in our midst." His eyes dropped to Alined, his dislike clear. Though they lived on separate sides of the continent, interests rarely intersecting, Alined's reputation preceded him and Bayard had a great dislike for gutless men.

"Hear, hear!" growled Olaf, broad and imposing with his fur pelt over his shoulders and glower darkening his ruddy face. "And, one way or the other, there will be justice. I will not have my daughter used as a tool. Any man who thinks so will feel the cold steel of my blade through his gut." His eyes lingered on Alined, a promise in his glare.

Uther looked over them all and said, "So we are agree –"

"I will not stand for such defamation from a boy trying to cover his own mistakes!" roared Alined, a particular type of panic in his eyes as he thumped his fist against the tabletop once more. "It was not I who tried to bed a man's daughter!"

"Hold your tongue!" snapped Uther.

Olaf added, face red with irritation. "We will have this resolved immediately. If you have done no wrong, then you have nothing to fear." His words were implicit with a dare and Alined gritted his teeth.

"It is not a matter of guilt," he grumbled angrily. "It is a matter of dignity. You would have me stripped of it based on hearsay."

"If it turns out to be a falsity then you have every right to demand recompense," said Uther dismissively. "But we cannot accept such accusations without investigation, as you know very well being a king yourself."

And as such, Alined could no longer argue without himself appearing as an incompetent ruler. Arthur much preferred candour and authenticity over word play and manipulations but it was something of a marvel to watch the seasoned men cut an argument so swiftly down the middle.

The cowardly king gave in with little grace and Arthur's father called for guards to track and detain Trickler while they investigated. He beckoned a few more from their places and the whole procession marched towards the Visitor's Wing, Alined's expression sour as he followed in Uther's wake.

"Come, Gaius," Arthur's father prompted when the old man didn't move. "We will need your expertise to identify suspicious items."

Word came at the door to Alined's chambers that Trickler had been located and was on route to the dungeons, to which Arthur's father gave a satisfied nod before gesturing the guards to enter. The search proceeded without a hitch, the soldiers taking greater care with the foreign king's belongings than was dealt to Gaius' when the Witchfinder invaded his chambers. Arthur couldn't help his annoyance at the difference, and his eyes flicked to the accused man with judgement. Despite his arguments, Alined didn't look too worried about the search, glowering at those rifling through his things but not panicked as he should have been. Arthur assumed it was because he was confident no contraband was to be found within his rooms.

It made Arthur happy he had planted evidence instead.

"Sire!" one guard summoned and stepped aside so the heavy tome could be seen within the trunk of clothes. Obediently, Gaius stepped forward and cracked the spine to a page with a heading depicting the magical uses of Belladonna. All eyes turned to Alined.

"That isn't mine!" the man roared, outrage turning his face red. "I have no such books in my possession!"

"Sire," another soldier called across the room, and beneath the opulent mattress was a letter scroll, bound tight. Though it was not yet unrolled, Arthur knew it contained a slender twist of both his and Lady Vivian's hair, separated by Gaius from the original stolen locks to further condemn the king. Arthur had not wanted to take any chances with the slippery man, taking a leaf from Merlyn's book when dealing with guilty people who held the trust of his father. Truly, he would have preferred to be honest, as using subterfuge and lies to uphold the law did not make a trustworthy kingdom. But the prince well knew the King, and without irrevocable evidence against the royal, Arthur's claims would have been dismissed and their hard efforts to make peace tarnished.

And Arthur wanted this over and done with so he could move onto more important things – like seeking a sorcerer and trekking to the Cauldron of Arianrhod. To choose between playing cat and mouse with a criminal and working on saving Merlyn's life… Well. There was no choice at all.

Olaf marched forward and snatched up the scroll, swiftly untying the slender binding so he could unroll the parchment. Two ties of hair fell out; smaller replicas of the one's presented as evidence, and all the kings stared down at the items in silence.

Finally, Olaf looked up at Alined and read his expression; the wide eyes he couldn't hide, the tension in his neck as he realised he was caught.

"I didn't put that there." His gaze cast across the other kings, something like desperation taking hold as he saw nothing but condemnation. "Those items are not mine. I stand with the decision to banish sorcery from our lands. I'm being set up!"

"An answer must be found," interrupted Bayard, features grim and eyes distrustful as they hovered on the accused king. He said to Uther, "Evidence has been discovered; regardless of if it is planted or not, we must proceed as we would in any other circumstance."

"You know nothing!" Alined growled. "This is all conspiracy and hearsay."

Bayard said loudly in return, "We know you, Alined. We know your reputation, and the lengths you strive, to triumph over your adversaries. Compare this to what is known of the Prince of Camelot, and the image he makes as a knight of the realm; it is you who falls short. Tell us what evidence we are missing."

The other man's eyes were wild with realisation and anger. He saw consensus on the other men's faces, "You dare judge me for my actions as king?" he barked. "You, who have all fallen short in your rule? Who all have your faults and flaws? You have no right!"

"We have every right to defend ourselves from sorcery!" Uther barked. "Whether it is in the form of beast or man. You stand accused, Alined, with evidence and reputation condemning you. How do you plead?"

Brown eyes flickered over the people before him, dancing towards the door and windows for half a moment before he gritted his teeth and growled, "Not guilty."

"Very well," the King of Camelot sighed then gestured to his guards. "Take him to the dungeons."

Soldiers swarmed the man, and he yelled as he was forcibly dragged away; "I will not stand for this! You will rue the day you made me an enemy! I will end you! I will end all of you!"

His voice faded as he was taken down another corridor and the four remaining rulers seemed at a loss.

"This is not the conclusion I had hoped for when coming here," Rodor commented with a sigh.

Olaf said gruffly, "True peace comes at a cost. Be this the only one; I will gladly go to war against the cowardly scum."

"War is not the only answer," Arthur interjected, Gaius' advice ringing through his head.

"If Alined has, indeed, sought to sabotage our treaty, I will not stand by and let it pass unpunished," Olaf declared. "My daughter was used as a piece of scrap!"

"And sorcery must be weeded out before it can spread," Uther added, glaring at his son challengingly. Arthur kept his features as neutral as possible but couldn't help his jaw tightening in frustration.

"Political isolation will work just as well as warfare and save our men from going into battle. Together, we four are the greatest kingdoms in the south and, without travelling through Rodor's land, the only means of transportation Alined possesses is by water. We all know his coastline is riddled with cliffs and violent currents, and his main trading port, the City of Tregor, exists no longer. Perhaps it is time to remind the rest of the realm why alliances are better than warfare."

"Odin and he are allies but not even he can sustain Alined's economy for an extended time," mused Bayard, and Arthur was quietly thrilled they were considering his idea seriously. He did not have the wealth of knowledge and experience they possessed, but he had his teachings and his strategies. He was pleased they seemed prepared to use them.

Rodor was a little apprehensive as he questioned, "What if he moves to invade? My kingdom relies on trade and harmony, I do not have the military strength to defend against an army of Alined's prowess."

"We will make it part of our accords," Olaf decided, looking over his fellows challengingly. "If it becomes he has, indeed, planned sabotage, we will discuss a new section of the treaty regarding our response. We all will have been struck by his machinations had he succeeded, so it stands to reason we defend ourselves against him together. If it becomes that he harms one of us in future, we strike as one force against him."

"I like this idea," Bayard declared, a dark grin lighting his face. "I want him to know his attempt to tear us apart has only united us against him."

"That is, if it turns out he has, indeed, tried to tear us apart." cautioned Rodor. "We need a confession to move forward."

"And have it we will, if he is guilty," promised Uther with decisiveness. "I'll not have sorcery used within my kingdom – by anyone."

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Arthur lingered near the kings even as their discussion diverted into more talk of the treaty, words growing as dusty as the stone around them. He had succeeded in the first part of his plan far better than he had hoped, but there was one more task he wanted to complete before devoting the rest of his attention to Merlyn. And that was Lady Vivian.

"Sire," a dungeon guard murmured to King Uther, gaining the attention of all four rulers. The guard swallowed nervously at the scrutiny but continued valiantly: "Lord Alined and the servant are prepared for interrogation if you wish to observe."

"Yes," answered Bayard with eagerness. "Let us see the snakes squirm."

"We will be down promptly," Arthur's father said, and the guard bowed and retreated with haste. The conglomeration moved towards the door and Arthur seized the opportunity presented to him.

"King Olaf," he called, and the man turned around, an eyebrow raised expectantly. The other kings filed out but lingered a polite – if impatient – distance away, so Arthur said more quietly. "I must speak with you regarding the Lady Vivian."

Instantly, his gaze turned suspicious, narrowed eyes moving over the prince's features.

"In what manner?" he asked gruffly.

"Freeing her from her enchantment."

Attention caught, he glanced to the other men. "I will meet you there," he said to them.

Bayard and Rodor moved on without question, their determination to resolve this issue overriding their curiosity, but Uther lingered to study his son before reluctantly turning to follow the guard.

"What is it?" Olaf demanded as soon as the men were out of sight, but Arthur beckoned him to follow as he headed for a side corridor, not wanting to be overheard.

"It is a matter of delicacy," he explained as they moved down the narrow path to a wooden door Arthur knew led to an unused scholar's study. The air inside was musty and stale, untouched for several years, but he grabbed a torch from the hall and brought it within to brighten the dirty, windowless space. A dusty writing desk and stool, bare of amenities, were the only items in the chamber but neither paid it any mind as the king turned to the prince.

"Tell me," Olaf commanded, and Arthur shored his bravery.

"A kiss from one who loves her truly will break the spell," he said in one breath, and the king blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"A kiss?" he reiterated when Arthur spoke no more. His ruddy features twisted in incredulity. "A simple kiss will free her? What ridiculousness is this!"

"Not a simple kiss," the prince corrected, understanding but annoyed by his dismissal. Did he truly think he would lie? "A kiss from one who possesses True Love for the person in question. Unselfish, untainted, pure love. Such a thing is rarer than a four-leaf clover." To quote Gaius.

"And you worry that I do not care for my own daughter in such a way? That I do not wish her the best in life?" The offense was clear in his tone and Arthur had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. How his father and King Olaf were so companionable when they were both so short-tempered was anyone's guess.

"My own father does not possess such love for me," he said bluntly. "He cares for me greatly – above his own life – but it is not selfless, nor is it boundless. I was told it is a rare person capable of such inexhaustible emotion, so there is no shame when it is likely your peers fare no better than you. I do not know if I am capable of it, even as I hope I can be." His mind cast to Merlyn; a precious gem in a world of stones, and almost choked on his guilt. Selfless and boundless were things his actions had determined he was not, so the question on whether he was capable of it seemed answered. But he wasn't going to share that with the temperamental king.

Olaf's scrutiny was newly considerate as he eyed Arthur knowingly. "Who freed you of your curse?"

The prince ducked his chin, embarrassed at the question even if he could never be ashamed of the woman. It was difficult to accept such a gift; to feel worthy of such love from the one he'd done so wrong. "Someone who deserves more than I could ever give her," he admitted, knowing he sounded besotted, even though his words were far from romantic.

The king's face flashed with realisation. "She is not of noble birth," he stated, and Arthur met his gaze defiantly, mentally questioning how the man discerned such a fact.

"She has no need when she is the noblest woman I know."

"The servant," Olaf decided, and panic zapped up Arthur's spine before he shut down his reaction and clenched his jaw. The other man seemed to read the truth from his silence, and Arthur bemoaned his inability to hide his damned emotions.

"That makes things simpler," the king offered. "Than if she was a lowborn noble."

Arthur glowered at him. "I will not make her a toy."

"Consorts are respected and cherished positions in the household," Olaf stated without censure. "It is a better life than many will find in the common world. She will have power and protection, and will remain by your side as long as you wish."

"My father frowns on such ideas," Arthur said bluntly, though his mind was writhing with turmoil. He'd forgotten about consorts. Camelot's history was absent of women in such a position, though he knew not if it was a deliberate tradition, or the kings were satisfied with their wives. His father certainly treated the memory of Ygraine as a sacred thing, imparting upon Arthur the sanctity of finding only one counterpart to cherish. It made the idea of consorts seem a dirty subject.

"It seems you have a better head on your shoulders than that of your father," Olaf decided, rather boldly considering the circumstances. "In his youth, he let his emotions rule much of his decisions – including love."

Despite the resentment for his father, Arthur was intrigued. Uther made himself out to be a wise ruler, ever-knowing in the justice of his decisions. When Arthur was younger, he had always struggled with inadequacy, sick and anxious when imagining his own future and the insurmountable task of matching his father's experience. Now he was older and wiser himself, his admiration had soured into reality. Uther was not all-knowing – he was not even one of the better kings. He was deluded and short-tempered, pigheaded and unforgiving; he had chosen to exchange his wife for an heir, arrogant in the virtuousness of his choices. He was no hero.

But, even acknowledging it all, even living with the poison of betrayal and resentment, Uther was still his father, and Arthur was always curious to know who he was before his time.

"What do you mean?" he asked, giving the man his whole attention.

The foreign ruler answered with a jut of his chin; "Your mother, Ygraine, was promised to another when your father met her for the first time." he snorted and shook his head, remembering events long gone. "Besotted at first sight. Understandably, the Duke of Tintagel disliked the advances towards his betrothed."

"Tintagel?" Arthur repeated, recognising the name. "That's in Odin's land."

"Aye," Olaf agreed. "And he almost started a war before Hoel settled on single combat by tourney. This was all when Uther was freshly crowned, still uncertain in his rule."

"That is not the story he shared," Arthur muttered, and Olaf guffawed.

"Well, who would tell their son they stole their wife from another man? Doesn't set a good precedence for respect, does it?"

"I am not my father," Arthur said, perhaps a little more firmly than should have been warranted but he wanted to make his position clear. "I would never trophy a woman like that. I want to marry for love."

"Oh, Uther loved Ygraine and she him, don't doubt it. But, indeed, you are far wiser than he at your age." He cocked his head and added after a pause, "I will give your suggestion a chance. I love my daughter beyond anything, and I will see her free of this curse."

"I wish you luck."

"If she returns to herself then I will know sorcery was used and Alined will know my wrath." His glower was dark with the promise even though Arthur was unsure the other kings would allow a vengeful assassination. Despite his breaking the law and targeting royalty, Alined was a noble diplomat and it lent him a fair amount of protection.

But, far be it for him to censure a king on his actions. They could sort themselves out now; he had more important things to seek.

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TBC…

FYI, I didn't know tea was such a recent introduction to the British Isles. Like, I knew it came from China first, but it never occurred to me to look up the date it arrived in Britain before I added it into my story. By the time I realised, it was too late. But I'm writing it off as Magic. People can venture further than ever and carry more than usual when sorcery is involved so things may show up that wouldn't normally have spread so far across the world in the 500s (this is also an approximation lol. Don't come at me historians)

Also, I have tonsillitis! D: I've never had it before and it's the worst! I've never had a sick day from work before and now I've had two. I posted this to make me feel better. Help me feel better frens 3