Archive of Our Own

Merlin sat on his horse in miserable boredom. Though the sun shone brightly through the trees, it was turning into a chilly spring evening. Merlin pulled his thin cloak around him and tucked his hands into his armpits.

They had stopped for the fifth time that evening so Uther and Arthur could lead small hunting parties in and out of the trees searching for the trail of a stag Uther swore he had caught a glimpse of. The king was in fey spirits. He had called for a progress to visit the nobles of Camelot, claiming that it was high time that he showed his face amongst his people. In truth, he wanted to show off the jewel in his royal household, his ward, Morgana. After their defeat of Cenred and Morgana’s (supposed) triumph over sorcery in stopping the uprising of the dead, Uther had regained much of his regal spirit. His pride and delight in the return of his ward was infectious. Infectious to all but Merlin, who shot a careful glance toward the black-haired woman.

Morgana was resplendent in a new gown of shining ivory. Pearls shone softly along the collar. Real silver was embroidered into stars along the skirt and along her ribs. Her cloak was thick and trimmed with ermine around the collar. Despite the finery of her regalia, Morgana was in a foul mood. Her horse had thrown a shoe that morning and come up lame. She had been offered a skittish bay gelding instead. The stable master warned her that he was young and untried but Morgana had insisted that she could handle him. In truth, she had a lovely seat. Merlin marveled at the easy way she shifted her weight as the gelding moved restlessly beneath her. Merlin was a hopeless horsemen. He rode stiffly and could never quite find the rhythm of the horse’s movement. As Morgana’s horse pawed the air, impatient with the fifth delay in their progress, she moved him sideways and around in a circle to keep him occupied. All while her eyes cast about as though looking for something.

Merlin, who had only recently recovered from Morgana’s latest plot to overtake the throne, decided he had better go check what she was up to. He pushed his horse closer to the edge of the woods line. Morgana had positioned herself well in the back, claiming that she needed space for her unruly mount. Now that they had stopped and most of the men were roaming the fields searching for game, Morgana was a hundred feet away from the rest of the party.

Morgana cast him a menacing glance when she saw his approach. Her face instantly lost the benign smile she had kept plastered there since her return. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth came into a sour pinch.

“Go away, Merlin,” she growled, baring her teeth.

Merlin smirked and settled his horse alongside hers. Her horse’s ears pinned back and then forward at the approach of the other horse. Merlin’s mount placidly ignored him, pulling the reins in a feeble attempt to convince Merlin to allow him to graze.

“That’s not very lady-like, Morgana. I’m only here to congratulate you on your triumph during the battle,” he said evenly, his mouth quirked in the semblance of a smile but his eyes remained stony.

“Right,” she scoffed. “Mad that I got all the credit, Merlin?” She rolled his name in such a way that it came out like an insult.

“Mad that the rock fall didn’t finish you off, more like,” he said while looking around to ensure that no enemies were sneaking up from the periphery.

“I wouldn’t talk like that, Merlin. I’m sure Uther wouldn’t take kindly to you threatening his ward,” she sneered but the effect was somewhat ruined by the crowhop her horse sent towards Merlin’s who had shifted towards him slightly. She moved her horse away until he settled.

Just then a loud clatter sounded, startling even Merlin’s calm animal. He swiveled his head toward the sound and heard a faint, “sorry!” come from a squire who had dropped a load of armor from the back of a cart.

Assured that no danger was near, Merlin turned back to see the black tail of Morgana’s horse flitting into the woods. It was clear from Morgana’s frenzied yanking on the reins that this was not a purposeful flight. Her horse, spooked by the loud noise, had bolted into the trees.

Merlin looked around to see if any of the guards would speed after her. No one seemed to have noticed her plight. For a guilt-inducing stretch of time Merlin considered leaving her to her fate. But, despite his earlier claim, he could not easily stand by while she was in danger. They had been friends once and the guilt he felt about poisoning her (even after she left him to die in the serket nest) still ate at him. He spun his mount to pursue.

They cantered haphazardly through the trees. He could see Morgana in her bright gown far ahead of him. She stood in her stirrups and angled up close to her horse’s neck so that at first, he thought she might have intended to flee. Then he saw how Morgana threw her weight backwards and hauled back on the reins to try to slow the bolting animal. Her mount see-sawed back and forth in protest, throwing his head in the air to grab the reins again. Merlin was able to make up ground but, in the next moment, the bay was barreling forward again, the reins now slack on his neck. Morgana dodge tree branches as she reached toward her lost reins.

And then both the gelding and Morgana disappeared over the crest of a hill.

“Morgana!” Merlin cried and urged more speed from his mount. Coming over the hill, Merlin saw that the land fell away steeply, ending in a rushing creek below. He caught sight of the horse coming to his feet on the other side of the creek, which was only about ten feet wide but swollen high on its banks with the spring thaw. He searched for Morgana and just spied a glint of white before it disappeared again beneath the roiling water. He kicked his mount forward, finding a narrow game trail that followed the line of the creek. The horse trotted gamely, finding his footing easily. Merlin silently thanked his lucky stars for such a steadfast and nimble animal.

Several times he saw Morgana’s head burst from the waves to gasp in air or scream for help but her cloak and gown dragged her under again. He spurred on his horse and came alongside her.

He pulled off his own cloak and threw it to the side. Then, kicking his feet from the stirrups he jumped, aiming to catch her flailing arm.

Per his clumsy usual, he missed her arm and fell face-first into the frigid water. Angling his feet toward the bottom he pushed himself to the surface with a shivering curse. He looked around him, trying to locate Morgana. She was there but several feet away now. He swam towards her but the swirling water kept her just out of his reach. It seemed like many long minutes had passed since the last time she had gasped for breath.

Merlin spat out a few magical words, his hand splayed toward the white cloth snaking through the creek in front of him. He was rewarded as the cloth shot towards him as though snagged on a fishing line. Catching it in his numb grip, Merlin reeled it in until he found Morgana’s arm. He pulled her upright so that her head was above water. Her face was still and pale as ice.

“Morgana!” He yelled but she made no movement or reply.

Pulling her to the bank, he chanted “no, no, no” without realizing it. With great effort given the extra weight of her sodden clothing, Merlin yanked her to shore. He slapped her gently on the cheek, trying to rouse her. Again, she made no response.

He checked her pulse and laid his head against her chest. Her heart beat strongly but she was not breathing. He slapped her again, this time much harder. Then he pushed on her chest, hoping to force out the water. Just as he thought he might have to breathe into her mouth, Morgana sputtered and choked up several mouthfuls of water.

Merlin rocked onto his heels and breathed out a sigh of relief. Morgana didn’t seem to recognize him, intent as she was on pulling air back into her lungs. When her eyes feel on him, she startled backwards. Merlin’s stomach spasmed and he realized he was sad to see that this was her first reaction to him. He put his hands up in a placating gesture but her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“What are you doing,” she sputtered, her eyes blazing with equal parts panic and malice.

“I just pulled you from the river!” Merlin responded with just a bit of anger. “Your horse spooked and you fell in!”

Morgana looked around her as though trying to find proof for his statement.

“I’m sure you had an ulterior motive for saving me, don’t look so proud of yourself,” she hissed.

Merlin rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Spying his cloak flung over a nearby tree branch, he trudged up the muddy embankment towards it.

“We need to get warm and dry. It’s nearly dusk so we don’t have time to get back to the camp,” he said over his shoulder to her.

He had some satisfaction in watching her struggle to climb the embankment but she managed it without asking him for help.

Merlin found a spot a few feet into the woods where they could shelter down. There was a large boulder to one side, which would block some of the weather. He set about finding some firewood.

As he gathered tinder and kindling, he whistled for his horse but he didn’t return. So much for the steadfast beast, Merlin muttered to himself. That meant he had nothing but the clothes on his back and the boots on his feet. All of his supplies had been strapped to his saddle. He thanked his foresight in bringing a cloak for once.

He set the wood into a pyramid and tried to use another two sticks to generate a flame. Then he looked at Morgana, who had stumbled up to his makeshift camp.

“You could start this with one word, you know,” he said grouchily.

She glared at him and pulled the cloak from her shoulders. She wrung it out and spread it beneath her. Then she wrung out as much of her dress as she could. The gown was ruined. Pearls and silver thread hung tattered around the hem. All of it was a dirty brown color.

Taking this as refusal, Merlin continued to work on generating a flame. Then, softly, so that he could barely hear it, Morgana chanted “Forbaerne”. The wood caught instantly.

Merlin rocked back onto his heels and let the flames heat his outstretched arms.

“Thank you,” he said but Morgana only grunted. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, refusing to look at him. Considering for a moment, Merlin stood and pulled the cloak from his shoulders. Then he offered it to her. She cast a glance at the proffered cloak and then back at him, judging his intention. Slowly, she reached out her hand and took it from him. Snuggling down into it she murmured softly, “thanks”. Merlin grinned and was surprised when Morgana returned a ghost of a smile back.

Merlin pulled off his jacket and shirt so that he could prop them up near the fire. Under the cover of the trees and behind the rock shelter, night fell swiftly. The cold air settled into the valley so that soon, despite the fire blazing before him, Merlin was shivering.

He looked toward Morgana and thought at first that she was asleep. That wouldn’t be surprising given her ordeal. She must be exhausted from trying to keep her head above water. He knew all too well how adrenaline saps energy once it flees from the body.

Then she spoke, startling him slightly.

“My magic,” she said. “It doesn’t bother you.”

He looked at her across the fire.

“Why do you say that?” He said, shifting uncomfortably so that he sat more upright.

“I can always see the fear on people’s faces when they see me use my magic. They see me…differently. Treat me differently,” she said. “But not you. Even in the catacombs. You were trying to stop me but you weren’t afraid. Why?”

Merlin shrugged awkwardly.

“I grew up in Ealdor. It’s outside of Camelot. Magic is not banned there,” he answered and hoped his face was in shadow.

She nodded slightly, seeming to accept this as an answer. They fell into a tight silence. Then Merlin spoke up.

“It’s not your magic I fear, Morgana,” he said softly. “It’s your hate.”

She looked up sharply, her mouth tight and her teeth clenched. Before she could answer, he continued.

“I feel like I failed you,” he said, hoping she would hear that he spoke the truth. “Gaius and I knew about your visions. I was one of the first to realize you might have magic.”

“You took me to the druids,” She said quietly and he nodded.

“And despite knowing that you just needed help and a friend to support you, I failed you. I let Morgause help you instead,” his voice was tight and thick with emotion as he admitted this.

“And then you poisoned me,” She growled through gritted teeth. “You lied to me and then poured poison down my throat.”

He nodded and tears slid cold tracks down his cheeks.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” He cried. “Morgause used you to anchor the enchantment. I had to kill you or all of Camelot would have died!”

“She would never have put me in danger like that,” she scoffed. Merlin blinked and stared at her.

“You didn’t know she had enchanted you?” He asked in wonder.

“You’re lying! She wouldn’t have used me like that,” she stated flatly but Merlin could see the doubt in her eyes.

“Why else do you think you were the only one unaffected? Why else would I try to kill you?”

“You’re not a nice person, Merlin,” she said stoutly. “You think you are but you are only concerned with yourself and making sure Arthur keeps you around.”

“Which is why I jumped into a freezing river to save your murderous backside!” He snapped. “I could have let you go. No one saw your horse bolt except me. I could have let you drown and been rid of a giant thorn in my side!”

“Why did you do that?” She asked, poised once again, though her voice was venomous. “Hoping to gain Uther’s favor?”

Merlin stared at her as though she had sprung a second head.

“We were friends once, weren’t we?” He asked, tremulously.

“Hardly. You’re just an obsequious little puppy chasing Arthur’s heels,” she jeered but her eyes skittered away from his. He shook his head slowly, disbelief spreading across his face. He scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks roughly.

“I guess you’ve never really had any friends, Morgana,” Merlin stately simply. “Not really. Arthur has his head up his own backside too much to claim anyone as a friend and Gwen was your servant. She had to be kind to you. I bet finding a long-lost sister was just the little fairy tale your lonely heart needed.” He waggled his finger toward Morgana and squinted his eyes. Then leaning back he breathed slowly, bringing himself back under control. “You’ll never understand how it destroyed me to watch you die by my hand. I couldn’t,” he stopped there and took a gasping breath. “I couldn’t watch you die again and do nothing. Even if you were willing to do the same to me.”

They stared at one another balefully, their words depleted. A chasm of fear, hate and distrust spread before them. Merlin knew now that he could never bridge it and so he nodded. He stood, pulling his still damp shirt back over his shoulders.

“I’m going to get some more firewood,” he told her. “You should get some sleep if you can.” Then he left her with a look of incredulity on her face.

------

His emotional upheaval lent him strength as he searched the hillside for kindling. It was dark but the gibbous moon reflected enough light that he could find a few sticks and branches. He even managed to keep his feet on the rocky footing. Well, he tripped once, but that hardly counted since he kept hold of his quarry. He was making his way back toward the campfire when he heard the sound of leaves shuffling close behind him. In his anger, he had not been paying much attention to his surroundings.

He cast a glance behind him, trying to quell his fear. It was likely a search party of Camelot knights, after all.

“Hello?” He asked turning around slowly and searching the gloom for people or animals. It would just be his luck if some werebeast found them.

The voice that answered sent a shard of ice into his spine that was colder than diving into the creek had been.

“What have we here?” Morgause purred.

Merlin didn’t bother to reply. He threw the bundle of firewood towards Morgause’s voice and ran.

He didn’t get far. He heard her chant and suddenly his feet were yanked out from underneath him. Landing hard on the forest floor, Merlin’s breath whooshed out of him in one exhalation. He twisted to see what had him caught and he saw silver chains snaking around his legs.
“No, no!” He yelled and clawed at the undergrowth, trying to pull himself free.

In seconds, the chains were around his chest. As before, in the serket nest, the chains tightened as he fought them until they were squeezing his ribs with a bruising force. He stopped fighting them and glared with all the hatred he could muster in Morgause’s direction.

“Tut, tut, you know there’s no use fighting these chains, don’t you?”

“What do you want, Morgause?” He spat at her.

“What I’ve always wanted. My sister on Camelot’s throne. She was supposed to meet me at twilight but she did not come. You will tell me why,” Morgause demanded.

Well that explained Morgana’s wariness earlier in the evening, Merlin thought.

“Her horse bolted and threw her in the creek. I saw it happen and pulled her from the water,” he responded.

“I doubt that,” she said, widening her eyes as they turned gold. His chains tightened again painfully.

“Go ask Morgana, then!” He yelled with all the force he could muster through the tightening chains. “She’s just beyond that rock outcropping.”

Morgause looked where he had indicated and waved a hand so that Merlin dragged beside her.

“You can understand if I don’t trust you, Merlin? After all, you’re usually behind my plans not working,” she said.

“I’m rather proud of that,” Merlin gasped out. He was quickly losing the ability to breathe around the chains across his ribs. Morgause was also not very careful about where she dragged him so he bounced along several rocks and was stuck with several pointy twigs during the journey.

As they came around the rock, Morgana leapt to her feet. Merlin watched the suspicion on her face ease to a smile as she recognized her sister.

“Morgause!” She cried, happily.

Morgause smiled in her thin-lipped way.

“Sister,” she purred, pleased. “What has happened? Why are you in the company of this servant?”

Morgana cast a glance towards Merlin but he couldn’t read the emotion there. Anger? Regret? She pouted her lips and her eyebrows angled downwards but he could not tell what the expression meant.

“My stupid horse bolted into the woods. Just as I was getting him back under control, he threw me into the creek. These frivolous clothes hampered me and I wasn’t able to get out. Merlin,” she stopped then and looked at him. He saw a tempest of emotion cross her eyes and then she admitted, “Merlin saved me.” She looked back up to Morgause and the sly smile returned to her face. “I’m sure he had nefarious reasons for following me but he did pull me from the water.”

“And got you breathing again,” Merlin murmured but Morgause kicked him in the legs.

Still, the chains began to ease, not enough to be comfortable but enough that he could breathe again.

“When I didn’t see you in the culvert, I thought something bad must have happened. I went to look for you,” Morgause said, almost tenderly.

Morgana smiled at her.

“You are a true sister to me, Morgause,” she praised. “If not for that stupid animal, I would have had Uther and Arthur lined up for you. It would have been easy. They’ve been hunting all week. I could say that I saw a boar in the culvert and they would have gone easily!”

Morgause nodded.

“We’ll need another way to bait them,” she said and then her eyes lit up. “Did anyone see you go except Merlin?”

“I don’t think so,” Morgana replied. “Otherwise, I’m sure someone else would have come to save me.”

“In that case, we just have to make it look like you’ve been abducted. We can even make is seem like Merlin is the culprit or at least the helper since I don’t think anyone would believe he could kidnap you,” Morgause said flippantly.

“Hey!” Merlin exclaimed, offended. Morgause just kicked him again and sent a chain across his mouth so that he could not talk.

“We’ll need to leave a clue that will convince them to come quickly. We can use your cloak and smear some blood on it so it looks like you’re in danger,” Morgause rattled off her plan.

“But where will we get the blood?” Morgana asked.

Morgause simply turned to Merlin and pulled a dagger from her belt. Merlin’s eyes went wide and his breath quickened with panic.

“It’s a good thing he’s here,” she said, a nasty smile on her lips. Merlin fought against his bonds with all of his strength. He yelled through his gag and pleaded with Morgana with his eyes. Morgana stayed still, watching Morgause approach him. She raised her hand in a gesture Merlin could not decipher and then Morgause was on him, slicing neatly through the artery in his neck. Merlin felt the blood course out of him as a retreating warmth. Cold and blackness replaced the lost blood, starting in his extremities and working their way toward his head. Too soon, his movements became slow and heavy. Just when he had decided that he must use his magic to save himself, Morgause chanted a few words and stopped the flow of blood.

Through his slow-blinking eyes, he watched as Morgause lifted the now saturated cloak for Morgana’s inspection.

“That ought to get Uther running, don’t you think?” Morgause asked pleasantly. Morgana looked stunned. She stared at the cloak, her lips pressed together so tightly that they had turned white. Then she peered down at Merlin with worry etched in every line of her face.

That’s a surprise, Merlin thought to himself distantly. Then he couldn’t remember why that was important to note. His heart beat fast and staccato in his chest. He felt every line of chain as a searing pain crisscrossing his body. His eyes shot open as he was again dragged unceremoniously through the woods. He hadn’t even realized that his eyes had closed.

Again, he could not draw a full breath into his constricted lungs. He became lightheaded and dizzy with hyperventilation.

Morgana must have noticed this because she said to Morgause, “can you release the chains a bit? He needs to stay breathing if we want people to believe that he’s responsible for my capture.”

Morgause cast a vindictive look at Merlin but relented. Merlin sucked in a grateful breath around his gag.

They trekked through the woods for several, uncomfortable minutes, for Merlin anyways. Morgana and Morgause spoke quietly to one another far ahead of him. He considered using his magic to try to incapacitate them but discarded the idea. Even when he was at full strength, knocking out both witches would have been challenging and he’d still have to contend with the chains, which had foiled him when he was hale and healthy. He considered calling Kilgarrah but wasn’t sure it would work around his gag. It would certainly call their attention to him and reveal his abilities.

All scheming was knocked out of him as they dragged him over a particularly large rock. Semi-stunned, he closed his eyes and tried to ease the stars spinning in his vision.

Next thing he knew, he was being tossed bodily into a tent. He sprawled gracelessly on the dirt floor and scanned the room swiftly. It was not a large space. His head brushed the tent side and his feet nearly skimmed the other side. There were bags, barrels and various piles of equipment scattered within the confines of the canvas. He figured that this must be a supply tent.

By the time he had surveyed the tent, he realized he was alone.

Morgause and Morgana had left the chains wrapped from his feet to his head so he could not move easily but he managed to wiggle slightly so that he could curl onto his side. He was exhausted from the exertion of saving Morgana and from losing so much blood. Yet, he found that he could not sleep. Now that he was no longer moving, the chill had crept back into his flesh. Morgause’s interruption had prevented him for thoroughly drying his clothes so they clung to him now in damp, cold proximity. The chains were no better, carving icy pathways across his cheeks and neck. Soon, he was shivering, sending small paroxysms down the length of the chain as it reacted by tightening slightly. The metal dug into his bruised skin and he tried to calm his shivering to no avail.

As he lay in cold, misery, Merlin decided that - this time - he would turn Morgana and Morgause into toads, no slugs, for chaining him again. Maybe he would turn one into a mouse and the other into a cat and send them after each other. Maybe he’d just circle them with fire and leave them to burn…

He continued to plot until finally, many hours later, he fell asleep. 

------

Arthur watched his father pace dully. Uther had raged all night, demanding that the prince or the knights or anyone locate Morgana immediately. Arthur had long since given up trying to convince the enraged king to sleep so he watched him rant with his own eyes glazing over in exhaustion.

It wasn’t that Arthur wasn’t worried – in fact, he had an ache of unease just below his diaphragm that wouldn’t go away – it was that he knew yelling at their loyal subjects likely would not help them find his lost sister any sooner. And so, he rested his chin on his calloused knuckles and watched his father pace.

His father stopped and turned to the ten flap. Arthur followed his gaze and saw Leon standing there. Leon looked like a beaten dog at that moment. Exhaustion and sadness pulled his features into a wilted mask. Arthur saw that the knight held something in his hands. The prince’s heart felt like it dropped into his stomach at the sight of it. It was Morgana’s new cloak. He would have known it anywhere considering how much Morgana had flaunted it in front of him. The thick fabric of the cloak, once so beautifully dyed that it fairly gleamed in the sunshine, was sodden with blood.

Arthur snapped his attention to his father, going to his side at once. The look on the king’s face would haunt Arthur for many months to come. It had not been that long since Uther had recovered from the mental malady that had struck at losing Morgana the year prior and yet, Arthur had grown to rely on his father’s strength and imperiousness again. Now, his mien seemed to age twenty years in an instant. His eyes lost focus and his lips fell slack. He looked so very old and…fragile.

Unconsciously, Arthur rested the palm of his hand against Uther’s arm in a steadying gesture. Instantly, the king straightened and snapped his arm straight, out of Arthur’s grasp.

“Where did you find this?” He demanded imperiously.

“It was delivered by a messenger, my lord, along with this letter,” Leon passed a blood-spotted letter to Uther.

Uther ripped the letter open, perusing it quickly. Then stonily, he thrust it into Arthur’s hand. Arthur read it swiftly and his heart sunk again.

“Your prince’s manservant was kind enough to deliver Morgana to us,” it read. “Come to the culvert under Brigman’s Bridge at nightfall. Bring only Arthur and no weapons. If we see any knights, her blood will stain the river red.”

The parchment fell from Arthur’s lax hand. He felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. Merlin? There was no way Merlin could have done this. Then he thought of the siege of Camelot and of the long absences Merlin spent during that time. He had been missing most of the day before the siege and Arthur had only seen him briefly during the onslaught itself. Could Merlin have been allied with Cenred this whole time?

Then he thought of Merlin’s goofy grin and his clumsy feet. How the boy was always at his elbow, even through the worst of battles. No, it was impossible. Even if he wanted to be dastardly, his servant would likely be useless at that too.

But Uther’s face was red with anger and he seethed, “your servant is behind this, Arthur.” He pushed the bloodied cloak into his son’s hands. “Your servant. You should have watched him more closely. You should have known he was with our enemies. Now Morgana is in danger because of you!”

Arthur knew better than to argue and so he answered simply, “I’m sorry, father. If Merlin is to blame, we will catch him and…” he struggled to finish, “execute him for treason.”

“You will kill him yourself,” Uther spat, his finger coming close to Arthur’s face. Arthur just bowed his head. Taking this as acquiescence, Uther stormed out of the tent.

------

Merlin was awakened with a sharp kick to his back. He flinched sharply and groaned as the chains activated around him. He was hauled unceremoniously to his feet by two burly guards. He heard the sibilant chanting of Morgause and felt the chains slink from around his mouth.

Merlin stretched his jaw from side to side trying to ease the ache there.

“Good morning, Morgause,” he rumbled snidely. She slapped him across the face. Touching his tongue against the inside of his sore cheek he pouted, “that wasn’t very friendly.”

She raised her hand again but was halted by Morgana.

“If you plan to hit him every time he says something cheeky, your hand is going to get sore,” she advised.

Merlin gave Morgause a thin-lipped smile, knowing it would irritate her more. But the witch had regained her composure swiftly.

“We will be meeting with your beloved king and prince at dusk. Since you are the one who delivered the poor princess to our nasty clutches, you will make an appearance at my side,” she said.

“I won’t ever stand at your side, Morgause,” Merlin answered. The guards tightened their grip on him but Morgause gave a little shake of her head and they eased up.

“Oh, no, I hope you don’t think you have a choice in this? You will appear at my side and will remain silent. This will ensure you do,” she said and slipped an amulet around Merlin’s neck.

Merlin immediately sagged into the guards’ arms. He felt as though a heavy blanket had been draped over his brain. The world turned sideways and then swayed as though he were on the deck of a ship.

“What is this?” He demanded, or at least he thought he demanded. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out. Fear seized him. He pulled uselessly at the men holding him and tried to shout. Still, he could not make his voice work.

A pleased and sinister smile spread over Morgause’s visage.

“Perfect,” she purred.

Morgana did not return her smile. Her eyes remained on Merlin. Her brows made a small crease in her forehead.

Seeing her contemplative look, Morgause patted her arm.

“Why don’t you get the new clothes for our guest, sister?” She said warmly.

Morgana pulled her attention to Morgause and her lips curled into a semblance of a smile.

“Of course,” she said with a brisk nod. She passed behind Morgause and out of the tent.

Morgause turned on Merlin with a predatory quickness.

“You will do as I say, boy, or I will show you that the serkets’ sting is not the most painful thing you can feel, do you understand me?” she asked with a silky malevolence that was far more frightening than her words.

Merlin shrank into the guards’ hold and simply nodded.

“Good,” Morgause stated as Morgana returned. “Now, we need to show Uther that you are our honored guest. These clothes have far too much blood on them to be believable. Change into these,” she commanded.

Morgana dropped a pair of fine leather breeches and a beautifully dyed linen shirt at Merlin’s feet. A leather doublet followed.

“I thought the blue would really bring out your eye color,” Morgana told him, back to her snide self.

The guards pushed him to his knees and he let out a silent cry of surprise. He pulled the clothing to him and gaze around for a private place to change.

“No, you can change right here,” Morgause instructed.

Humiliation made the tips of his ears and his cheeks turn red. He shifted so that his back was to the two women and pulled off his clothes as swiftly as his aching body would allow.

He heard a sharp intact of breath from behind him.

“That’s quite the scar for a man claiming to be a servant,” Morgause said speculatively.

Merlin glared at her over his shoulder. He well knew the scar she spoke of. The serket sting had left a sizeable divot within his back as it healed. Killgarah’s enchantment had cured him of the venom but it could do nothing to remove the puncture wound. It turned his stomach to have the women responsible for that pain view the scar with such merriment.

Sharp anger heated his belly as he pulled on the clothes haphazardly, determined to complete the task swiftly. He stood and opened his arms wide in a gesture meant to convey, “does this make you happy?”

“Tut, tut,” Morgause cooed. “You’d think a servant would take more care in the appearance of his clothes.” She reached out a hand to straighten his jerkin but Merlin grabbed it before she could make contact.

Instantly, pain ricocheted through Merlin’s entire body. He lost all sense of the world as the nerves in first his arm, then his torso, his head and finally his legs lit up as though he had been struck by lightning. The muscles in his legs no longer functioned and so he fell to the ground, writhing in insensible, silent misery. The pain fled as quickly as it had commenced. Merlin scuttled away from Morgause, breathing in short, terrified pants. His eyes stared at her widely as he gripped his knees in a useless effort to protect himself.

Morgause was full of false kindness again.

“Why don’t you stand and let me fix your new garments?” She said, evincing a soothing tone.

Merlin stood slowly, his muscles still twitching in remembered pain.

As she pulled and tucked at Merlin’s clothing, Morgause crooned, “I know that hurt, Merlin, but it was just a taste of what I can do to you. So you’re going to be a good pet and listen to me now, aren’t you?” Her dark eyes bore into him.

Merlin’s mouth remained in a grimace of pain as he gauged his response. Then he nodded once, shortly.

“Good,” Morgause smiled. “Now that you understand, why don’t we get you some breakfast? I’m sure you’re famished after your difficult evening yesterday.” She put a companionable hand on Merlin’s back. He flinched at her touch but did nothing else to move away from her. Her smile widened like a hound who’d found the scent trail of its prey. “Wonderful!”

------

As the sun turned first yellow and then orange in the sky, Arthur mounted his horse in trepidation. He and his father had honored the ransom note’s request and left all weapons in their wagons. Though they both wore their full ceremonial armor, Arthur felt naked and exposed on his charger. Uther reminded him that they just needed to make an appearance and their guards would then flank their position to overwhelm the kidnappers.

Arthur wasn’t as sure. They had not heard a whisper from Cenred or Morgause in many months. This stank of Morgause. And there was unquestionably a magical trick up Morgause’s sleeve, he knew. So he gripped his reins in clenched fists. His horse felt his unease and pawed the air in eagerness. His mare loved the excitement of battle and pranced eagerly beneath him.

“Camelot has the greatest knights in the kingdom, Arthur. We will get Morgana back and punish those responsible,” Uther assured him. Then he stared at Arthur, his brow going tight, “all those responsible,” he growled.

Arthur looked away from his father, feigning a need to calm his mount. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at his father’s words. He knew he meant Merlin. Loyal, affable Merlin. And Arthur had no idea how he was going to get his manservant out of this alive, even if he was innocent. Uther had certainly killed many other men with less provocation.

They headed down the road, Uther in front by a few feet, Arthur lagging behind. Their men snuck into the forest to the side of them, ghosting their steps. Arthur had rarely been as nervous before an enemy encounter and was dismayed that the journey to the bridge was so short. They came upon the bridge within a half hour. By the look of it, the bridge had been built decades before in a spot where the road crested a hill. A small stream, which was barely a trickle even with the spring thaw, ran beneath the span. The bridge had a stone archway beneath which had withstood the years well. Since the note had directed them to meet the kidnappers below the bridge, they made their way to the culvert beneath.

Arthur scanned the terrain with a practiced eye. From their vantage, they could not see the kidnappers waiting for them. Worse, it would be hard for their men to position themselves without being seen. He trusted in Leon to direct the men adequately and followed his king through the narrow archway.

Just as he suspected, Arthur saw Morgause first. The feline expression of glee on her face hardened his nerves. Next, he took in the pale visage of Morgana next to Morgause. Her hands had been bound in front of her. Her gown had been ruined and Arthur could see the red stains of blood on the ivory cloth. She looked surprisingly regal standing there, though Arthur could tell by the tenseness in her jaw that she was nervous.

Finally, Arthur noticed Merlin standing just behind the women. He was wearing fine new clothes and his unruly hair had been brushed and flattened. Though he looked gentlemanly in his finery, Arthur was startled by how pale he was. True, Merlin was always pale, but now he looked wan, with dark circles beneath his eyes. Where Morgana looked nervous, Merlin was clearly scared. He was shaking his head and mouthing something that looked like “go”. Morgana shifted slightly and Merlin tensed. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in a way that suggested he was in pain. None of that made sense if Merlin had brought Morgana to Morgause. Arthur’s earlier mistrust of the ransom note increased.

Uther’s voice rang out clearly, interrupting his observations.

“Morgause. I see you’re at your old tricks again. What do you want?”

“You dead, of course, with Arthur at your side.”

“My army is nearby. Even if you could kill us, they would swarm you and defeat the dregs that are left of Cenred’s men. So what…reasonable request do you have?”

Morgause cocked an eyebrow at this.

“Oh, I think that’s a perfectly reasonable request,” she replied, grinning, and she began to chant.

Arthur didn’t wait to see what mischief she had in mind. He spurred his horse forward, intending to trample Morgause. He saw, from the corner of his eye that Uther had the same idea.

Before they could go more than a few steps, however, the ground around them began to shake and heave. His mare jumped side to side, trying to keep her balance but she went down.

Arthur leapt from her back, landing in a somersault. The ground in front of his face shot upwards. A ring of earth was forming in front of him and his father, who was miraculously still on his horse. Then he felt an icy coldness around his ankles. Looking down, he saw that the small little stream had become a torrent.

The water hit the obstruction and pooled around him in a swift flowing eddy. Soon it was at his knees and then at his waist. In a few seconds, it was at his chest and he felt himself being dragged under as the water hit the wall and swirled violently around him. He fought with everything that he had, kicking and clawing to reach the surface. Then his mare, who was also caught in the whirlpool, kicked out a leg and connected with his head. His world went black.

------

Merlin watched Uther and Arthur approach with terrified disbelief. He didn’t think they would ever come, unarmed, even if it was to save Morgana. Yet, here they were, striding up in resplendent armor without a single weapon.

He shook his head swiftly, mouthing “go!” and “it’s a trap!” but Arthur just seemed confused by his attempts.

Then Morgana moved towards him and a blinding pain shot through him. He hung his head in a semblance of defeat. He would wait to see what Morgause did and then counteract it as best as he could without incantations.

He listened to the posturing of Uther and Morgause’s quick reply. Then the ground began to shake. A wall of dirt erupted from the ground and hid Arthur and Uther from him. Casting a quick glance at the witches in front of him he saw they were distracted completely. Morgause continued to incant, her hands moving in spidery gestures. Morgana looked on with rapt fascination evident on her face.

Merlin cast an instinctive pushing spell at Morgana and tackled Morgause. As they fell, Merlin slapped his hand to the earth and pushed with his magic until a crack formed. He watched in satisfaction as it spread to the growing mound of dirt, sending cracks throughout its surface. Morgause turned on him and he readied himself for another painful jolt. He was not prepared for the knife she wielded. She stabbed downward toward his heart, intending to finish him quickly. The few training sessions in which Arthur had allowed him to participate saved him. He blocked her thrust and kicked out at the same time, tripping her. But Morgause had proven herself to be the equal of Arthur and she recovered quickly, shifting her hands so they drove the knife into his thigh as she fell. Then the dam broke free and water deluged them both. He felt her tumble across him, swept up in the flood, but he was stuck fast. Her blade had his right leg pinned. He held his breath and grasped the hilt of the dagger so that the swiftly rushing water would not pull it free. As a physician’s apprentice, he knew he would need to leave it there or risk bleeding out completely. Though being a physician’s apprentice did not help him cope with the bizarre feeling of having a foreign object impaled in his flesh.

The initial surge of water dissipated and soon Merlin could breathe. He sucked in gratefully and pushed his hands into the mud around him.

A keening growl was the only warning he got as someone ripped the dagger from his leg and held it to his throat.

Morgana stood over him, radiating rage. She must have been clear of the flood because only the bottoms of her skirts were wet. The chains that Merlin knew were just for show were gone now. An ugly, angry scowl distorted Morgana’s fine features.

“You ruin everything!” She hissed at him. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

Merlin backed away from her but she followed, pressing into his flesh with the knife point. His mouth opened in a soundless gasp. Exhaustion was overtaking him quickly, as though layers of heavy blankets were being piled onto his limbs. He knew that the dagger was all that could have stopped his blood from leaking from his leg wound. He prayed that Morgause had missed the artery but didn’t think he was that lucky.

He was too tired to beg even if his voice would allow it. Having had just one good meal since the last time he had been exsanguinated, he had not fully recovered his strength. His eyes closed once, twice, and he had to remind himself why it was important to open them again.

Morgana’s lips twitched and her eyebrows went up at the corners of her nose and then back down. But she didn’t stab him. Instead she pushed him back to the ground. He reached out to grasp his wound. Wrapping his hands around his thigh, he tried to hold pressure there but his arms were shaking too much. Then Morgana was back again, a length of rope in her hands. She wrapped the length around his upper thigh and used a stick to twist it tight.

Merlin opened his mouth in a silent scream of pain. His back arched and his hands grasped the air around him but he did not pull away from her.

Tucking the stick into her tourniquet, Morgana made eye contact again.

“I can’t heal you with magic. Someone might see,” she said, in what sounded like an apologetic tone.

Merlin looked into her face searchingly. His lips trembled with exhaustion and pain but his eyes were steady on hers. Then he reached for Morgana’s crimson stained hand and pulled it into his own. He squeezed her hand softly. She looked down at his grip in confusion but did not pull her hand free.

“Morgana, get away from that traitor!” Uther roared and Morgana’s hand was ripped from Merlin’s weak hold. “Shackle him,” the king ordered his guards.

Cold iron was clapped around Merlin’s wrists and he was yanked upright. Well, mostly upright. He lost his balance and fell into the guards, who pushed him roughly to his feet. He stood on one leg, his shoulders and back slumped with the effort of staying upright. For once, he was glad for the magical amulet around his neck; he would be voicing an undignified, keening whine otherwise.

“He’s injured,” Morgana shouted. “Have a care to his leg.”

Uther looked from Morgana to Merlin with suspicion.

“Why do you care what happens to him? He kidnapped you,” Uther snapped.

Merlin watched as Morgana stared at Uther. He waited for her to say something. That he had saved her. That he wasn’t involved in her kidnapping. But she didn’t say anything. His face crumpled into a sob that no one could hear.

“Please, Morgana,” he mouthed but she was steadfastly avoiding looking his way.

Uther looked at her and then at Merlin, whose head was drooping lower and lower in defeat. He looked torn for a brief moment.

Then they were all distracted as Arthur galloped up with a clatter of hooves. He jumped off his horse in one bound before the animal even came to a halt. Wrapping Morgana into his embrace, he declared, “I thought we’d lost you!”

Her lips trembled just slightly. No one else noticed the uneasiness in her posture but Merlin did. Even weakened and leaning precariously on his captor’s arms, he saw the way she tensed at Arthur’s embrace. Then she hugged Arthur back, burying her face into his armor. Whether this was an act or genuine feeling, Merlin didn’t know. And then Merlin didn’t know anything anymore as a black shroud of exhaustion overwhelmed his consciousness.

------

Arthur felt Morgana soften in his embrace and patted her back soothingly. Then he saw Merlin, draped between two guards, his body limp.

“Merlin!” he shouted. Morgana tensed and pulled away from him, but Arthur was too intent on his ashen-faced manservant to notice.

Merlin shook with subtle tremors and his breathing was fast and shallow. His eyes twitched and rolled under his eyelids but he made no sound. Arthur’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. Shame washed over him; he hadn’t even realized that Merlin was injured since he was so focused on seeing Morgana safe again. Then fear overtook him. Merlin was paler than he’d ever seen him before. His skin glistened with sweat. Arthur had seen his share of wartime injuries and knew enough to be scared for Merlin.

“We must get him to Gaius,” Arthur shouted, a note of panic in his voice.

“He must stand trial,” Uther retorted.

“Father, if he lives, he will stand trial,” Arthur said reasonably. “But let us get him to Gaius so that can happen.”

Uther made no motion of agreement but stood aside from Arthur’s path.

“Our agreement still stands, Arthur,” Uther said, levelly. “If he is guilty, you will fulfill his punishment.”

Arthur didn’t bother to respond. He spurred his horse into a controlled gallop, holding Merlin to his chest as tightly as he dared. Arthur was glad the road was level and wide here; night had fallen and the trees shaded the moonlight from his path. Mostly he trusted his horse to find her way. The only sound Arthur heard was the quiet chuffing of his horse and dull thud of her hooves hitting the dirt. Uneasiness tightened his stomach. It was truly eerie to have Merlin so silent in his arms. If his servant hadn’t been shaking continuously, he would have thought he held a corpse in his arms.

Many hours later, Arthur saw the white walls of Camelot peeping through the foliage. His arms ached from holding Merlin steady. He had been ignoring a sharp twinge in his back for about an hour. His mare’s coat was soaked through despite the chill night air but she brought him willingly to the gates and pranced as he pulled her to a halt, eager to go farther.

He yelled to the sentries on duty, “It’s Prince Arthur! Open the gates! Send someone to rouse Gaius!”

He saw a glint of light as a helmet disappeared from the window. Then a groan and clanking as the portcullis’s mechanism rotated reluctantly. He didn’t wait for the gates or portcullis to open fully, simply ducking below it and spurring his horse into a clattering canter.

A groom met him in the courtyard and helped him pull Merlin from the saddle. A small grimace crossed Merlin’s face but he did not wake from the maneuvering.

Then Gaius was there, his face sagging when he laid eyes on Merlin. He froze for just a breath and Arthur could see fear blanket him. Then as though switching coats, the old physician took over. Gaius straightened and directed the groom to lay Merlin on the stretcher someone had carried from his room. He examined Merlin quickly. At the touch of fingers on his wound, Merlin’s back arched and his teeth gritted. He clutched his hands against his hips and breathed out several huffs of air. His eyes fluttered open and then swiftly closed again. Then he fell limp again.

“Take him up to my rooms, quickly,” Gaius ordered.

“What can I do?” Arthur asked before Gaius could leave him in the courtyard.

“I’ll need clean water to bathe his wound. When you come to my room, heat it on the fire,” Gaius called to him as he strode swiftly into the castle. Arthur marveled at the mobility of the man given his age.

Then again, Merlin was like a son to the physician. Arthur was sure that lent speed to the old man. He felt the fear spurring him on as he went to fetch water despite his aching bones. He hadn’t slept much in 48 hours now and what rest he had gotten was on a cold, damp camp bed. Exhaustion fogged his thoughts but he shook it off as best as he could.

Gaius had already removed Merlin’s fine, new trousers and was working to inspect the wound in Merlin’s leg. His hands moved swiftly over the rest of Merlin’s body, assuring himself that he had not missed any other wounds. Arthur had a glimpse of bruises cutting across Merlin’s torso. His legs were likewise mottled with blue and yellow marks. This at least solidified Arthur’s suspicion that Merlin had not willingly abetted Morgause.

“Arthur, I will need to take this tourniquet off. The wound may begin to bleed again. Can you please hold this on his leg?” Gaius placed a linen bandage over the injury. Slowly, he untwisted the tourniquet until he could cut it off. An ugly line marred the ivory skin of Merlin’s thigh where the rope had been. It was such a dark shade of purple as to appear black.

Merlin shook and twisted on the cot. Arthur saw his mouth open and close as though forming words but no sound came out. Merlin’s arms seemed to punch the air as he fought against the pain. Gaius took over the bandage and Arthur moved away from the cot, unsure of how to help.

Gaius was intent on his task, occasionally asking Arthur to bring him tools or to shift his light. As Gaius worked to stitch up the wound, Arthur moved to Merlin’s side to get out of the way. His servant’s arm thudded into him lightly and he reflexively grabbed Merlin’s hand. Merlin gripped his hand back tightly and Arthur looked at him in surprise, but the young man’s eyes were closed. Slowly, Merlin seemed to relax as Arthur held his hand.

Even as Gaius finished his sutures and pulled a blanket up over his ward, Arthur did not relinquish Merlin’s hand. Instead, Gaius pulled over a chair and pushed the prince into it. With the hot water, Gaius made some tea but, when he went to give Arthur a cup, he found the prince already asleep, his head resting against one arm. His other arm rested protectively across Merlin’s own. Smiling thinly at them both, Gaius went to seek his own bed.

------

Merlin woke to a thunderstorm raging within Gaius’s chambers. There was yelling and the clattering of fallen books and bottles. Merlin himself felt tossed as though he were a ship at sea. It took a while for his eyes and ears to work well enough to make sense of it all.

“You can’t take him!” This was Arthur, Merlin was fairly certain.

“We have our orders,” someone else barked and Merlin felt a hand tighten on his upper arm.

He realized that he was dangling between two people who held him under his arm pits. He was pretty sure his legs were dragging on the ground but he couldn’t be certain; his right leg was a mixture of throbbing pain and fuzzy numbness.

“I am the prince of Camelot, you will release him! He needs to rest,” this was Arthur again. Merlin was more sure this time given the context. “If my father wishes to question him, he can do so here.” Another pull on his arms but in the other direction.

“Our orders are from the king,” one of the guards said brusquely.

“He will be able to rest in the dungeons, my lord,” the other guard said, more reasonably. “You can take this up with King Uther in the meantime.”

Merlin wasn’t quite sure who he was supposed to side with; he only wished they would lay him down so that he could sleep again. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder blades.

Gaius intervened. “Arthur, Merlin needs rest, wherever he can get it. Go to your father and see if you can talk some sense into him.”

Merlin knew then that Gaius was angry. Gaius never spoke ill of Uther in mixed company. Merlin’s heart swelled as his fear increased.

He gritted his teeth as the guards dragged him from the room. The trip to the dungeon was unbearable. Merlin’s leg thumped on every step. Though the guard on his left seemed to care if he was in pain, the other was careless and let his leg drag. When the left-hand guard scolded him, he merely shrugged and spat, “what? He’s not screamin’ yet.”

Merlin huffed out a wordless breath and gave up his tenuous hold on consciousness.

------

Merlin woke to a stinging pain on his cheek. The matching sting on his other cheek let him know this wasn’t the first attempt to wake him. He opened his eyes with an effort. Trying to take stock of the situation, he roved his eyes over the room. Two guards, one with his hand still raised as if to strike him again. Uther standing in the corner watching. His hands were tied above his head and he felt his shoulders twinge from carrying his weight for so long. He shifted carefully so that his left leg took some of the burden. It helped but not much.

Another slap stung his cheek and he made an effort to open his eyes wide and look at Uther, who appeared to be speaking. It still took a few syllables before his scrambled consciousness could parse out words.

“…ere..the…witch? Where are they hiding?”

“What?” He mumbled, his mouth moving wordlessly.

This time the guard aimed for his side. Merlin wheezed out a lungful of breath and curled away from his attacker. He gasped in air through gritted teeth.

Raising his head with an effort, he looked into Uther’s eyes and tried very hard to mouth the words “I cannot talk”. This earned another punch to his gut. At least he had been prepared this time and took the hit to clenched muscles.

“Why won’t you answer my questions?” Uther demanded. The guard backhanded Merlin across the face and he tasted blood. At this, Uther said to the guards, “don’t hit his face. My son is already far too upset with what happens to his servant. I don’t want him to think we were abusing him as well.”

Merlin snorted soundlessly through his nose and the guard responded with a short, painful jab to his ribs that knocked him off his good leg. Righting himself again, Merlin drew himself up as best as he could and tried again.

“I cannot speak. I’m bewitched,” he mouthed slowly.

“I grow tired of this, boy,” Uther spat. “Why will you not speak?”

“Sire,” said one of the guards. “I think he can’t speak.”

Merlin nodded his head fiercely.

“You can write?” Uther challenged and Merlin nodded. The king had personally witnessed Merlin reading tomes to research several healing potions but he didn’t suppose Uther would bother remembering this detail. “Get him something to write with,” he ordered the guards. He paced forward, glaring menacingly down at Merlin. “If you think you can toy with me and refuse to answer my questions, you are sorely mistaken.”

Despite his best attempts, Merlin cowered from the king’s ferocity. He shook his head sharply and mouthed, “no!”

He was filled with gratitude when the guard returned swiftly, carrying a chalkboard and a stub of chalk. The guard swiped his hand over it to erase what appeared to be dice wagers from its face. The second guard loosened Merlin’s bonds so that his hands were free to write. The manacles remained so it was difficult to hold the board and write but Merlin managed. He wrote:

“Can’t speak. Enchanted amulet”

Uther turned to the guards, “Take the amulet off of him.”

Merlin shook his heads fiercely and put his hands up but the guard sidestepped him easily, yanking upwards on the amulet.

Merlin felt as though the guard had pulled his spine through his ribcage. He could no longer see or hear. He knew that he had fallen only because his arms protested painfully from the tightening manacles around his wrists. As the pain subsided, he became aware that his mouth was thrown open in a yell he could not voice. With an effort, he pulled it closed with a grimace.

Uther was impassive to Merlin’s reaction. He simply commanded, “you will answer my questions with the chalk then.”

Merlin gritted his teeth and breathed hard for several seconds.

Uther continued, “where is the witch, Morgause?”

The guards yanked him upwards unceremoniously and thrust the chalkboard back into his shaking hands.

“Don’t know,” Merlin wrote.

The guard punched him forcefully in the lower back. Merlin stumbled to his knees, his yell of pain silenced by the amulet.

“I know you were with her. Tell me where she is hiding and this can end,” Uther said, evenly.

Merlin wrote furiously.

“Captured me.” Another blow to the back. This time, he merely rocked on his knees.

“Saved Morgana. Morgause captured me.” A punch to the ribs and Merlin heard a crack as pain blossomed in his side. The chalk dropped from his nerveless grip and he got a momentary reprieve as the guard went to find it.

“Stop lying to me, Merlin. This could all end if you would just tell me the truth,” Uther intoned reasonably.

Merlin shook his head desolately. Angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. With just a thought he could be out of these bonds. With a look Uther and the guards would be across the room and unconscious. Merlin wanted desperately to just let go. But a memory of Arthur’s hand in his stopped him. The prince needed him. If he unleashed his magic now, the dream of a united Albion with sorcerers free to roam Camelot would die.

Instead, Merlin breathed in shallow huffs so he would not aggravate his cracked ribs. Then he accepted the chalk in a tremulous hand.

“Morgause losing followers. Cenred doesn’t trust her.” He waited for a blow that never came and then, wiping the board clean, continued, “Stronghold in Mercia. All I heard.”

“Good. Glad you’re seeing sense,” Uther stated triumphantly. “Now, what are they planning?”

Merlin looked at him, numbly and pointed at his last sentence. The guard cuffed him in the back of the head, sharply.

Merlin erased the board angrily and wrote, “Kept me tied up.” Another sharp punch to the ribs. Merlin erased and wrote again, “Morgana was with Morgause. She knows more?”

This time Uther struck him a vicious blow across the chin, setting his teeth clacking together. Merlin saw stars and collapsed again. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Uther snap, “Do not accuse Morgana of having any part in your treachery.”

The guards grasped him under his arms but found that they could not keep Merlin on his feet.

“I think we’re done for today,” Uther growled and stalked off.

The guards loosened the chains so that Merlin crumpled onto the floor. As the ground jarred his injured leg, Merlin lost his feeble grip on awareness.

------

When he awoke again, he was more coherent but his skin felt hot and clammy. It took him awhile to remember how to work his eyelids. He groaned and then remembered that he couldn’t groan and huffed in peevish annoyance. There really was something awful about not being able to give voice to your pain, he thought.

As his fuzzy eyes began to find focus, Merlin saw in a swath of colors. First, the grey and black of the walls and then a brownish red that Merlin did not have enough sense yet to find alarming. Then a brighter red with dark brown legs and a yellowish mop of hair leaning against the stone wall. Merlin was utterly befuddled when he realized that Arthur was in the cell with him.

As the sounds of Merlin shifting reached him, Arthur turned his blue eyes to Merlin’s.

“Finally awake?” Arthur asked him in a teasing tone. “You slept through my breakfast.”

Merlin looked at him in confusion and moved to sit up.

“Let me help you,” Arthur said and came behind Merlin. “You’re in no condition to move swiftly,” he warned.

Arthur gripped him gently and pulled Merlin into a seated position against the wall. With the new elevation, Merlin’s head swam. He looked down and nearly lost the meager contents of his stomach.

His entire lower half was swathed in blood. Arthur must have read the expression on his face because he mollified quickly, “it looks worse than it is. You were fighting with us in your sleep and it…uh…spread.”

Merlin’s breath came out in a shaky, extended wheeze.

Arthur continued jabbering in an attempt to put Merlin at ease, “…stitched it back up. We tried to put poultices on your bruises but you fought us too much. Gaius says a rib’s broken but there’s not much we can do for that. I talked to my father – “ Arthur halted, at a loss for what to say next on that matter.

Merlin looked into his eyes, levelly, and waited for him to continue.

Arthur squirmed.

“My fath-…King Uther doesn’t want you released,” he said at last. Merlin dropped his eyes. “He thinks you need to stay in here and ‘stew a little longer.’” Merlin twisted his mouth, wryly. “His words not mine,” Arthur assured him. “He thinks you’ll have more to say if you spend the night in the dungeons.”

Merlin looked Arthur in the eyes, a fierce glare set into his bruised features. Arthur put his hands up in a gesture of pacification.

“I know! I’ve been trying to convince him you had nothing to do with Morgana’s capture but he doesn’t believe me. I think he doesn’t want to believe,” he observed sorrowfully.

Merlin began to mouth furiously, gesturing wildly with his manacles.

“Slower, slower! I don’t understand,” Arthur pleaded. As Merlin continued to chatter on in silence, Arthur reflected, “you know, I always hoped for silence from you but I have to say, this isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

Merlin dropped his hands and scowled at the prince. Arthur cracked a smile and chuckled shortly. He was pleased to see an answering, if wan, smile from his servant.
“Sorry, I’ll go see if I can find something for you to write with, ok?”

Once he was alone in the cell, Merlin laid his head against the stone wall. Arthur’s words had done little to cheer him. He knew that if he stayed in the cells for another night, Uther would have him beaten until he confessed to helping Morgause. He also knew that escaping would mean Uther would be convinced of his guilt. More than anything, he wanted the medallion off of his neck.

As Arthur reappeared with a quill and parchment, Merlin motioned for him to give them to him swiftly.

“So eager to talk again, I see,” Arthur said as the implements were snatched from him.

Merlin scrawled “Has Gaius figured out how to get this amulet off?”

Arthur read his words and shook his head, sadly.

Merlin frowned. They let the silence spread between them for a few minutes. Both had too much to say and no way to articulate it. Finally, Arthur broke the silence.

“What did happen out there, Merlin? I know you didn’t have a hand in it. I knew that almost immediately. Oh, don’t look so shocked,” he said at Merlin’s surprised expression. “If you were to kidnap someone, I’m sure it would have backfired before you got to Morgause.”

Merlin pressed his lips into a flat line but couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed. He started to write.

Arthur watched in pensive silence as Merlin told the story of coming to Morgana’s rescue, of Morgause capturing him, and of the bloodied cloak. Arthur went a shade paler at this and searched Merlin’s neck for a sign of the cut.

Merlin wrote, “she healed me” and Arthur nodded.

Merlin paused then, unsure of how to frame Morgana’s involvement. Arthur still trusted Morgana implicitly. Merlin didn’t know how to break her betrayal to him.

Arthur grew suspicious of the long pause.

“What is it?” He asked nervously. “Just tell me.”

Merlin finally made up his mind. He continued the story without mentioning Morgana’s betrayal. He knew Arthur would never believe him. Without proof, it would just make him angry. In this, he was his father’s son.

At the end, he explained the breaking of the dam as “I tackled Morgause and broke her spell. She stabbed me and then the dam fell apart and washed over us. She was caught in the current and pulled from me. What happened to her?”

“My horse knocked me senseless for a few minutes. When I came to, we were a hundred meters down the stream bed. I saw Morgause and her men fleeing from some of the Camelot knights. My men claimed that a black fog overtook them and they were unable to follow her,” Arthur explained.

Merlin wrote a single curse word on the parchment. Arthur saw it and laughed.

“I think that about sums it up,” he agreed. Arthur looked to the far corner of the dungeon, becoming sober again. “We owe you our lives and you’re moldering in here like a criminal.”

His eyes dropped to his feet. “What my father did to you.” He shook his head. “It’s inexcusable. Even if you had been part of the plot.” Another head shake. “Beating a man after he nearly bled to death? I never want to be a king who can condone something like that.”

Merlin watched him, afraid to move and spoil the moment. Arthur looked at him again, his cornflower blue eyes catching and holding Merlin’s cerulean ones.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. Truly I am. I will do whatever is in my power to get you out of here,” Arthur said steadily. Merlin’s heart swelled and he smiled broadly. Then he laughed and wrote a short note.

Arthur read it too and laughed.

“Yes, I will endeavor to get you out in one piece,” he assured. “Now, let me go see if Gaius has found a way to lift the enchantment. And… I’ll try to talk to my father again.” Arthur couldn’t quite meet Merlin’s eyes as he said this. They both knew the answer would not make either of them happy. Merlin nodded and gave him a confident smile that fell just short of reaching his eyes.

After Arthur had left and Merlin was sure he was alone, he positioned himself so his back was to the door. Concentrating his magic, he pushed a surge of it towards the amulet around his neck. A bolt of lightning seared his brain. Gasping for breath, he regrouped and breathed slowly to bring his heart back under control. Then he tried again.

This time he came back to consciousness with his cheek pressed to the cold, stone floor of the dungeon. He shuddered and tried to sit back up but he was too tired. Closing his eyes again, he drifted back to sleep.

------

Merlin awoke with a start. At first, he didn’t know what had awakened him. Pushing himself upright, he was pleased to see that his rest had restored a bit of strength in his arms. He was able to pull himself into a seated position against the wall.

Then he heard another noise, like a sack of flour hitting the ground, but louder and well armored. A spike of fear lurched in his chest, even though logic told him that anyone taking out the guards would likely be helping him. His breath came fast and sharp. He had to remind himself to take shallow breaths.

Merlin heard soft footsteps coming closer to his cell door. Without realizing it, he gripped his manacle chain tightly.

Then a hooded figure appeared at the bars. In the dim light Merlin could not make out a face. He heard the soft whisper of magic and watched as Morgana’s eyes turned gold.

His cell door opened quietly on well-oiled hinges.

A complex roil of emotion went through Merlin’s stomach. First was surprise and then an instinctive fear coursed through his veins. Without meaning to, he shrank back from her. His hands gripped the chain of his manacles and he steeled his face into a glower of fury. As his emotions still twisted within him, he settle on anger only to have her first question catch him off guard.

“Merlin, what’s happened to your face?” she asked, in the same way that a mother might question a mischievous toddler who’s spoiled his clothes.

Merlin huffed a laugh through his nose and gestured at his surroundings as an explanation.

Morgana’s frown deepened.

“Do you understand now? Do you see why he must be stopped?” She said fiercely, stepping towards him

Merlin tilted his head to the side and continued glaring at her. He was enraged that she thought he was in a position to do something about that now.

She made a clucking noise in the back of her throat and reached a hand towards Merlin’s neck. He shied away from her instinctively and she gave out a puff of aggrieved annoyance.

“I’m going to take that amulet off of you,” she said testily. “Unless you’re enjoying this silence?”

He shook his head and moved so that she could get to the necklace. As she placed her icy hand over the amulet, his skin crawled and he couldn’t help the grimace that pulled at the edges of his mouth.

“Lyfesn of sâlnes, ânforl¯ætan êower hæfde,” she whispered as her eyes turned gold.

With a last painful jolt, the necklace uncoiled from around his neck and pooled into Morgana’s waiting palm. Merlin was reminded, unpleasantly, of a snake.

Now that he had the power of speech, he was unsure of what to say.

His mouth moved up and down for a few moments and then he said, simply, “Thank you.”

Morgana pressed her lips together and smiled thinly but the gesture did not make its way to her eyes.

“Now I hope you’ll say something useful,” she replied. “Something along the lines of ‘you were right, Morgana’ or ‘I’ll help you’?”

“Is this why you didn’t tell Uther that I saved you? You think this will convince me to work with you? What exactly do you expect me to do from a prison cell, Morgana?” He demanded testily.

“I still have magic, you idiot. I can get you out of here,” she spat back.

“And then what? Would you have me poison Uther? He’s convinced I kidnapped you. He’s not going to trust me ever again!”

Morgana pursed her lips and looked off to the corner of the room. She looked extremely uncomfortable, which made Merlin uneasy.

Finally, not looking at him, she whispered, “come with me.”

“What?” He gasped, completely taken aback.

Her silvery green eyes found his and her expression was so like that of his old friend Morgana that he softened his glare and eased in his bonds.

“Come with me,” she said again. “Help me. I… I know you cared about me once. Do you think you could again?”

Merlin’s face melted.

“Morgana,” he rumbled in the back of his throat. “I never stopped caring about you. That was always the problem.”

Her smile was faint but true. He paused, hating to continue but soldiered on.

“Overthrowing Uther isn’t the way to bring magic back to Camelot,” he said with true sadness in his voice. “That would mean more bloodshed and more innocent people getting hurt!”

“If you help me, we can make sure only Uther dies,” she reasoned.

Merlin shook his head, knowing in his soul that Morgause would not stop at just the death of the king. He feared that Morgana wouldn’t either.

“No,” he said. “What would you do about Arthur? He would avenge Uther’s death.”

“I’m sure you could help him…see the light?” She argued.

Merlin shook his head again.

“No, I would never turn against Arthur,” he said with finality.

Merlin watched her anger drop like a curtain over her face. Morgana narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in an angry frown.

“Suit yourself,” she growled. “Maybe our plans will go more smoothly with you in here.” She spun on her heel and stalked toward the door.

“Morgana, wait!” He cried. She turned back to look at him over a graceful shoulder. “Why can’t you tell Uther the truth? He would accept you.”

She squared her body towards him in angry indignation.

“He would have me killed like he’s killed so many of my kind,” she seethed.

“You don’t know that!” He shouted. “He loves you like a –“

“Like a daughter?” She scoffed. “When has being his son ever kept Arthur safe from that man’s wrath? I don’t fancy a death on a pyre,” Morgana spat the last word.

“Then tell Arthur!” Merlin said, desperately. “He’s not like his father.”

“And then what? Hope that knowing that I have magic softens his heart so that when he becomes king in oh, maybe a decade, he might someday legalize magic in Camelot? No, Merlin. I’m not waiting that long.” And with this pronouncement, Morgana slammed his cell door shut and stormed out of the dungeon.

Merlin was left alone with the distinct feeling that he had gained his voice only to lose something far more valuable.

------

Too soon the king and his guards were back for him. Merlin hoped that Uther would listen to him now that he could speak but he had lived long enough in Camelot to know that this was a false hope.

“Sire!” He said as soon as Uther ducked into his cell.

“What is the meaning of this?” The king demanded. “I thought you were enchanted?”

“I was but the amulet it… it broke during the night. Maybe the enchantment grew too weak? I don’t know enough about magic to know,” Merlin realized he was prattling as Uther’s eyes narrowed in a malevolent glare. “Please, sire, I was not working for Morgause. Morgana’s horse spooked and he threw her into the river. I chased after her and pulled her from the water. Morgause found us both and captured us.”

“So now you would have me believe that, not only are you not part of the plot, you were the hero as well?” Uther’s voice was a low, menacing growl.

Merlin was not cowed.

“Sire, why else would Morgause enchant me? She knew I would yell and give away their-her plot. As soon as she began her spell, I tackled her. That’s why the spell broke,” Merlin pleaded.

“I might believe this farce more, if you did not lie to me about your heroism quite so much,” Uther warned. “Besides, what proof do you have of any of this?”

Merlin thought for a minute.

“She tied me up,” he answered. “There are bruises from chains all across my back and legs. See for yourself,” he motioned for the guard to lift his shirt.

At a nod from the king, the guard complied.

“He’s right, sire,” the guard said. “There are bruises in lines across his back. Looks just like chain links.”

Merlin was surprised to hear sympathy slip into the man’s voice given that this same man had broken Merlin’s rib just hours before.

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t Morgana tell me any of this? If she believed you were innocent, she would not leave me alone with her nagging and pleading to get you released. She hasn’t said anything about you.” Uther’s mouth twitched upwards in the barest smile as he mentioned Morgana’s incessant support of the beleaguered.

“I…I don’t know,” Merlin responded disconsolately and, even to himself, it seemed a paltry answer.

Uther glared at him for a long moment.

“I will have you brought to the throne room for my decision. Until then, I urge you to consider if you have any more useful information,” Uther said imperiously and strode out the cell door. The door clattered ominously after him.

------

The following morning, the guard placed a pail in his cell with orders to “wash up for the king”. Then he gave him the usual crust of bread but, this morning, a link of sausage and a square of cheese sat next to it on the plate. He wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or a bad omen but he ate it greedily nonetheless.

After scrubbing his face, neck and hands, Merlin used the water to dab at the crusted wound in his thigh. Gaius’s new stitches had held but his flesh looked red and swollen underneath them. He sucked his breath through his teeth at the sight of it but knew there was little to be done about it. Since he had nothing to use as a clean bandage, he retied the old cloth so that a fresh section covered the injury.

He laid his head against the stone walls and closed his eyes wearily. He considered his options. Uther would find him guilty, he had no doubt. He’d seen enough “trials” in his time in Camelot to know that he would find no justice in Uther’s throne room. If he used his magic to escape, Uther would send Camelot knights after him. Even with his magic, he would have a hard time evading them with an injured - possibly infected - leg wound. He could tell Uther the truth about Morgana but he knew that would end in the same fate – him on a pyre or swinging from a noose. His only real option was to hope that Arthur would vouch for him and intercede. It was a slim hope at best.

Too soon, the guard came to collect him. They walked in silence, the guard holding Merlin’s elbow as he limped through the keep. They passed few servants but those they did see looked at him with sympathy. The tiny seedling of hope residing within him grew with their tentative smiles and fond expressions.

As the double doors of the throne room creaked slowly open, the hope flickered and died. Uther sat on his throne with his head turned to Morgana, in quiet conference with his ward. Morgana’s face was turned to the king’s but her eyes pierced him as he hobbled into the room. Uther saw her frown and glanced toward Merlin in disapproval. Only Arthur looked at him with anything resembling kindness and his expression was so sad, Merlin knew he was doomed.

Then the guards pressed him roughly to his knees and Merlin lost a few moments of reality as pain surged in his leg. He fell forward onto his elbows and lay panting until he could see through the blackness cutting through his vision. When he pulled himself painstakingly back to his knees, he saw Arthur look away, his jaw working in a tense, staccato rhythm. Morgana’s eyes were hooded but Merlin could tell that she was working very hard to appear uninterested. The king, however, didn’t seem in the least concerned. Once Merlin had regained his composure, Uther announced,

“Merlin, for the crime of conspiring with the enemy of the crown, Morgause, and for the kidnapping of my ward, Morgana, you are hereby sentenced to death.”
“Father, no!” Arthur shouted. “You said you would give him a fair trial!”

Uther turned on his son, rage evident in every vein in his neck.

“How dare you undermine my decision? I am the king. I have given him a fair trial by listening to his lies and have found him guilty. Do you dispute this?”

Father and son stared at one another tensely. Finally, Arthur broke eye contact and looked away but very quietly, he answered, “yes, I do.”

“What?” Uther chuckled awkwardly. “You can’t be serious.”

Arthur looked back to him.

“Merlin is innocent and you know it,” he responded evenly.

“You have no proof!” Uther roared back.

“I showed you the bruises from my time in Morgause’s camp and told you the truth of what happened, what more do you want?” Merlin shot into the fray.

“Silence! I will not have a mere servant talk back to me!” Uther reeled on him, slapping him hard across the cheek. Merlin crumpled onto his side holding his face in shock.

Arthur’s face went red and he stepped between his father and Merlin’s prostrate form.

“Father, stop!” He yelled.

As father and son squared up again, Merlin saw movement behind them. All eyes were on the quarrelling men and thus, no one but Merlin noticed Morgana slowly sneaking towards the king, a blade glittering at her side.

“Morgana, no!” Merlin cried and shot an instinctive spell towards her as the knife jabbed upwards towards Uther’s ribs. Morgana stumbled on her skirts, the blade cutting a shallow gash across Uther’s side instead of the killing blow she had intended.

Uther cried out in surprise and stumbled away from his ward.

“Father!” Arthur bellowed.

Suddenly, everyone froze. Morgana’s quiet chant ceased and her eyes burned golden.

“Enough!” She shrieked. “I’ve had enough of Pendragon lies.”

Uther and Arthur stared at her but seemed unable to speak. All around the throne room, guards gripped weapons but stood frozen in their efforts to draw them to bear. Every eye stared at Morgana. Once again, Merlin was forgotten. Cautiously, he shifted his feet and found that Morgana’s magic had not affected him. Arthur still stood between him and Morgana, effectively hiding him from her sight. Shifting slowly, Merlin moved painfully back to his knees. Morgana did not notice him as she continued her rant. Merlin was fairly sure she had practiced it.

“I have watched you burn hundreds of people like me. I have watched you claim that magic is evil while you murder women and children. Camelot deserves a better ruler than you, Uther Pendragon,” Morgana roared. “I will be that ruler.”

Slowly, agonizingly, Merlin came to his feet. Morgana turned to him in surprise.

“What?” She breathed.

“No,” Merlin responded, simply. He limped stiffly and stood in front of the king and prince.

“What?” Morgana repeated, this time angrily.

“I won’t let you kill them,” Merlin said.

Morgana laughed cruelly.

“He just sentenced you to die for a crime you didn’t commit and you’re still going to stand there and defend him?”

“I won’t let you kill him, Morgana. Not because he doesn’t deserve it. Not because he’s an unjust king. But because you are not a cruel person.”

Morgana laughed again, one sharp exhalation of breath.

“I know Morgause has you convinced this is the only way but it’s not. We can find a better way,” Merlin continued soothingly.

“There is no better way, Merlin! Move aside!” Now her voice growled with emotion.

“Yes, there is! There has to be! Please don’t be like Morgause, Morgana.” Merlin’s voice echoed her sadness. “I miss the Morgana who always defended the downtrodden. The one who would nurse birds back to health.” He smiled warmly at the memory. “She was my friend.”

“That girl is dead, Merlin. You killed her,” Morgana’s eyes had become icy but her lips trembled.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he replied. His gaze was steady despite the tears pooling in the inner corners of his eyes.

Morgana gripped her knife and squared her stance but Merlin did not move.

“Get out of my way, Merlin,” she said through gritted teeth.

“No,” he answered firmly.

“I will kill you,” she said fiercely.

He nodded. Just once. The movement tilted the welling tears down his cheeks but Merlin’s stare was unyielding.

“Do what you have to, Morgana. I’m not going to fight you.”

Morgana screamed in frustration and Merlin closed his eyes, bracing for the blow. Instead he heard the clatter of a knife falling to the stone floor and Morgana’s sobs. When he looked up, she was encased in a black coil of fog. Her mouth moved in a chant he could not hear over the sound of wind swirling around them. And then she was gone.

He blinked at the empty space for several seconds in utter disbelief. Then he wheezed out a surprised “ha!” before his world tilted suddenly sideways. Strong arms caught him around the chest before he hit the floor. When his vision resolved again, Arthur’s concerned eyes stared back at him.
“Merlin, are you alright?” He asked anxiously.
“Yeah, yeah…uh I think so?” He responded and Arthur glared at him in annoyance. “The king! Is he alright?” Merlin asked, looking around in case Morgana had somehow come back and finished him off.

“He’s safe,” Arthur assured him. “You saved him,” I note of wonder entered his voice and he squeezed Merlin’s shoulders fondly.

Behind them Uther moaned disconsolately. Morgana’s betrayal seemed to have broken his tenuous grip on sanity once again.

“How could she?” He mumbled. “How can she be a sorceress? Hooooooowwww?” The last word became a howl and Merlin watched several of the guards grimace in discomfort.

“Morgause turned her against you m’lord,” Merlin answered softly. “They’re sisters, you see. Morgause gave her the family she never felt she had in Camelot.”

“But I’m her – “ He stopped before he said the word “father” and his face crumpled.

Arthur stood and gripped his father’s arms gently.

“Come, father, let’s get you into your chambers. This has been a taxing morning for us all.” Uther went along with him easily, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging. The guards followed close behind, leaving Merlin alone and forgotten in the room.

He tried to stand but found that his strength was gone; he had used his remaining energy to face off against Morgana. He slumped down on the throne room’s carpet. The rug was soft and inviting against his skin. The fever burning through him kept him quite cozy. Soon, he had drifted off to sleep.

-------

Once he had delivered his father into the capable hands of his valet, Arthur went back to the dungeons to free Merlin. Considering the morning’s events, he was sure his father would allow this. Even if he didn’t, Arthur would do it anyways.

But when he reached the cell Merlin had been occupying, the guards told him that his servant had never been brought back down. Without an official sentence, they didn’t know what to do with him.

“So where is he?” Arthur demanded.

The guards shrugged and the prince ordered them to scrub out the cells. Their clueless faces annoyed him but what irritated him more was the knowledge that he too had forgotten Merlin. The guilt gnawed at him. Stupid, brave Merlin had stood between the man who was about to sentence him to death and a sorceress. He had remained on one, trembling leg to protect his king and been thanked with a cold stay on the floor of the throne room.

He pushed the doors hard, banging them against their frames and searched the darkened room. Even knowing what he would see, Arthur’s stomach dropped at the sight of his servant’s limp body sprawled across the floor.

“Merlin!” He breathed the name and ran to his side. Merlin’s arms and legs shivered as though from cold but his skin was warm to the touch. Too warm. Arthur shook him, yelling, “Merlin!” louder now.

He was relieved when cerulean eyes peered back at him.

“Arthur?” Merlin murmured, confused. “Did I forget to wake you?”

“Merlin! No, no you’re fine. I just need to get you to Gaius.”

“No,” Merlin responded petulantly and closed his eyes again. “Wanna sleep.”

“Come on you, lazy daisy,” Arthur said with false cheer as he wrapped his arms around his servant’s shoulders and legs, picking him up swiftly. “Up and at ‘em!”

“No, that’s my line,” Merlin complained. Then his eyes rolled back and he wilted in Arthur’s arms.

Arthur practically ran to the physician’s chambers. His heart hammered frantically in his chest. He couldn’t lose Merlin now. Not like this.

Throwing open the door to Gaius’s rooms, he yelled, “Gaius! Please help me. It’s Merlin!”

The old man’s eyebrows seems to disappear into his hairline.

“Quickly, bring him onto the bed,” Gaius ordered.

Arthur set Merlin down gently and backed away.
“I’ll need some water and fresh bandages,” Gaius directed, waving his hand in the direction of the hearth.

Arthur dutifully followed his orders and then stood back, watching. Gaius cut off the bandage around Merlin’s thigh and peeled it off carefully. Even from three paces away, Arthur could see that the wound was infected. Gaius poked and prodded at the wound even as Merlin called out in his sleep and tried to pull away. Satisfied that the injury had been drained of its foulness, Gaius slathered a layer of honey over it and wrapped it up neatly once again.

“Give him this,” he instructed Arthur, handing him a vial of brown liquid. “It should help with the fever.”

Arthur tipped the vial into Merlin’s mouth and stroked his throat. He had seen Gaius do this a hundred times and yet, he felt silly doing it himself. Still, Gaius nodded in approval.

“I think that’s all we can do for now,” Gaius said. “I’m assuming Uther came to his senses and freed Merlin?”

Arthur stared into the eyes of his childhood guardian and could not think of anything to say.

“Uhhhh….” He fumbled. “Well, uhhh….he actually hasn’t announced his verdict.”

“What?” Gaius challenged.

“Morgana…she tried to kill my father and, uh, Merlin stood between them. He made her back down.” A look of awe overwhelmed his features. “I’ve never seen such bravery in my life, Gaius.”

Gaius beamed down at his sleeping nephew, pride evident in every wrinkle on his face.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Arthur sighed. “Surely my father will not condemn him now.”

“In his right mind, I don’t think Uther would but…” Gaius let the question hang in the air.

Arthur nodded.

“But is he in his right mind?” Arthur finished the thought.

“I’m afraid that only the prince of Camelot can determine that, Arthur,” Gaius replied softly.

Arthur sighed again.

“I guess I need to talk to my father.” Gaius patted his hand fondly.

“Good luck,” he said. “And I’ll let you know straight-away if anything changes with Merlin.”

------

Arthur was surprised to find his father striding around in his chambers barking orders. The guards and servants scurried to and fro, laden with clothing, armor, and assorted weaponry. Arthur watched the chaos in startled silence for a moments before his father noticed him.

“Ah! Arthur, you must gather the knights, we are going in pursuit of Morgause!”

Arthur furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to respond but found he couldn’t find a polite way to ask if his father had lost his mind (again) and chose to close it again.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a fish, Arthur! Go! We mustn’t waste time! Morgana can’t have gone far. We’ll get her back!”

Arthur caught the wild expression on his father’s face.

“Father, we can’t go after Morgana. She used magic to escape,” Arthur said as calmly as he could manage.

“Nonsense! We just need to catch Morgause! Then we can free Morgana. Now quickly, Arthur!” The king made a shooing motion and Arthur saw a glimmer of red beneath his arm.

Arthur squared his stance and reached out to pull the cloth of his father’s tunic towards him.

“Father, you were injured. Have you had Gaius tend to your wound?”

Uther glared at him but his eyes looked lost.

“What?” He asked with a hitch of uncertainty.

Arthur turned to the milling servants and, in his clearest, princely voice demanded, “leave us.”

“How dare you dismiss them, Arthur? I need them to get things ready,” Uther said and he was suddenly the king once more.

Arthur shifted his grip from his father’s tunic to his forearm.

“No, you need to get your wound looked at. You’re not good to anyone if you bleed out while we ride,” he responded in a placating tone. “Come with me to Gaius’s and I’ll get things in order while he gets you patched up.”

Uther nodded vaguely. It seemed that once he could no longer bark orders, the winds of rationality had fled his sails.

Once Uther was out of the chambers, Arthur turned to the servants and whispered, “stop packing and get the council convened for me.” Then he walked his father to Gaius’s chambers.

At the door opening, Gaius looked up. When he spied Uther, Gaius’s eyes narrowed.

Uther didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he said brightly, “Ah, Gaius! I seem to have gotten myself injured in the fray. Stitch me up quick like. We need to be on our way.”

Gaius pursed his lips and his eyebrow seemed to melt into his hairline but he responded pleasantly enough, “of course, sire.”

Not for the first time, Arthur wondered at the mettle of a physician who could continue to work while all around him, his people were put to death and then continue to serve his king faithfully for decades beyond that.

“Here, m’lord. Sit on this stool and I’ll get my bag,” Gaius said, gesturing to a stool on the far side of the chamber. Arthur noted the physician’s attempt to keep the king as far from his ward as possible and frowned.

His father was oblivious to the tension in the air and sat on the stool straight-backed and proud as always. Arthur relaxed as Gaius efficiently cleaned Uther’s wound and bandaged it neatly.

“Will that be all, sire?” Gaius asked, in a tone Arthur was sure was meant to be a polite response but which came across to the young prince as terse.

Uther nodded absently.

“Yes, very good, Gaius. Thank you,” the king said absently. He straightened his tunic and stood but did not move to exit the chamber. After a pause, he turned to the cot where Merlin slept soundly.

“Your ward,” he began but Gaius corrected him.

“My nephew, your highness?”

Uther shifted his stance slightly so that the physician stood in his regal glare.

“Yes, your nephew. Will he make a full recovery?” Uther asked as though inquiring after the weather.

Gaius pressed his hands together tightly but responded pleasantly enough, “he should, sire. Infection has taken hold in his wound but I think we caught it in time.”

Uther nodded and then turned back to Merlin’s cot.

“I find that the situation is still strange to me,” he mused to no one in particular. “I would have had him killed and he still protected me. It’s…odd.”

“That is loyalty, my king,” Gaius responded. Arthur was glad that his father’s gaze remained on the sleeping figure of his servant because Gaius’s expression was anything but loyal.

Uther made a small “hmm” sound.

“Arthur, you will see that he gets the reward his loyalty deserves but keep it quiet. I do not want the other courtiers to believe that I need a servant to protect me.”

Without another glance, Uther strode from the chambers, leaving Arthur blinking at his wake in surprise.

------

Merlin came awake muzzy-headed and confused. For the briefest moment, he felt the constriction of blankets around his chest and thought he was still bound in chains in Morgause’s clutches. He must have made a small sound of distress because someone was at his elbow in moments.

“Merlin?! You lazy git! I thought you’d sleep forever!”

Merlin couldn’t think straight enough for a snide response and wheezed out, “clotpole” instead.

“Glad to hear you using your voice for a good purpose, Merlin.”

Merlin glared in the direction of his prince and groaned.

“Everything hurts,” he complained petulantly. “Why does everything hurt?”

Gaius was at his side then, with a vial of blue liquid in his hand.

“Here you go, my boy. Drink up. You haven’t been lucid enough to take in any kind of tonic.”

Merlin took the proffered vial and drank it in one gulp, trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid his taste buds. He made a sour face.

“Blegh,” he grumbled and then repeated it a few more times. “Ahh it’s so nice to complain again,” he said merrily.

Arthur snorted at him.

“That would be what you missed, Merlin: Whining.”

“I do not whine, Arthur. I merely voice my annoyance with the pain and suffering that I’m made to endure each day that I’ve been in your employ,” Merlin responded haughtily. Then, as though to prove his point, Merlin moved to sit up and sucked in a painful breath.

Despite his teasing, Arthur was quick to help ease Merlin into a more comfortable position. Even fetching pillows to prop him up.

“Ow,” Merlin groaned out breathlessly. “I’ve got a broken rib, haven’t I?” He asked as he pressed his palm to his side, his eyes shut in misery.

“And an infected leg, a concussion and possibly a fractured cheekbone,” Gaius responded with equal parts worry and exasperation.

Merlin’s hand went to his cheek. His fingers brushed the swelling there lightly.

“Huh, yeah the guard had on gauntlets,” he said vaguely.

Arthur fidgeted nervously. He was normally good at this sort of thing. He’d had to comfort enough wounded men to know what they needed to hear to get them well and back in armor. Merlin was different. What could Arthur say to repair the kind of hurt a man endured while loyally saving a king who would have him killed without any evidence? As he realized that there was nothing to say, he reached into his pocket and drew out a small cloth. He pressed it into Merlin’s hand.

Merlin turned his clear, blue eyes to him.

“What is this?” He asked.

Arthur dropped his gaze to the gift.

“Open it,” he replied.

Merlin held the object in his right hand and pulled the fabric aside with the long fingers of his left. Then he just stared at it.

“When I was knighted, my father presented me with this to celebrate my achievement. I thought you should have it. Your actions over the past week were exemplary. You may not be a knight, Merlin, but you are worthy of a knight’s token.”

Merlin passed his thumb over the silver object reverently. It was a round cloak clasp. On the face, a gilded dragon shone brightly. The craftsmanship was remarkable; each talon of the dragon stood out starkly and the silver shone in the dim light. Merlin remembered the few occasions when Arthur had asked for it. They were always extremely important events. When they concluded, Arthur had been adamant that the clasp had to go back under lock and key immediately.

“Arthur, I can’t accept this,” Merlin stated firmly.

“Of course you can,” Arthur responded.

Merlin tore his eyes away from the gift and thrust it towards his prince.

“Your father gave you this. I can’t take it,” he repeated.

Arthur looked at him levelly. His voice was quiet and measured.

“Merlin, what you did for Morgana, for my father, and likely for this kingdom, deserves to be rewarded. This is the least I could do for you. Please, take it. Wear it with pride.”

Merlin withdrew his hand and absently caressed the face of the clasp.

Arthur grinned and continued, “I originally thought of gifting you with a ceremonial dagger but I knew you’d likely stab yourself or, more likely, me so I thought better of it.”

Merlin snorted and returned his smile, albeit crookedly given the swelling in his cheek.

“Thank you. I will treasure this,” Merlin responded. Arthur saw the unshed moisture in his servant’s eyes and knew he meant every word. He smiled in satisfaction and relief.

“I’m glad you like it,” Arthur said. For anyone else, Arthur would have given a triumphant ceremony or a knighthood but somehow, he knew that this was just what Merlin needed. And, for a brief time, all was right in Camelot.