Chapter Text
There were few moments where the entire city fell silent. It had been unnaturally quiet for two nights; the lower towns were spotted with the glow of candlelight as a procession marched from one end of the citadel to the other. Merlin spotted the distant movement of shadows as Camelot’s people marched, their heads bowed and altogether silent. Though there were no words spoken, he felt a thrumming deep in his bones. Magic might be outlawed, but there were still those who followed the old ways in secret. Their prayers were silent, but Merlin felt them all the same as a slight pressure in the back of his mind. An extra force among the city, draped across the roofs and towers. A silent song of prayer and hope outstretched across the stones.
In the royal chambers, Queen Guinevere laid peacefully asleep with her hands clasped loosely over her stomach, as her chest moved with the slow rise of each breath. She was in the same position she had been for three days and now, a third night. The chambers were lit with waning candles and a low-burning fire, reduced to embers and emitting only the slightest golden glow.
When Merlin crept through the chamber doors, quiet enough not to disturb the occupants inside, he found Arthur kneeling beside the queen’s bed in the same position he had when he arrived earlier to deliver the king’s dinner. His hands were clenched together atop his head. It was unnerving to see Arthur so still. He was always so full of energy, even when he was forced to sit through council meetings, Merlin could feel that restless energy pouring off of him like an overflowing goblet.
Merlin slipped the rest of the way in and closed the door silently behind him. He strode on light feet to stop beside Gaius, who was carefully re-arranging his bag in preparation to depart. “Has there been any change?” Merlin asked quietly.
From the weary, weighted expression on Gaius’ face, he was sure he already knew the answer. “No,” Gaius answered after an extended beat as Merlin held his breath. “It appears the curse is still holding.”
Merlin’s hands clenched helplessly at his side. He glanced back at Arthur, and lowered his voice a notch deeper so it wouldn’t carry. He doubted Arthur would overhear them, but in some instances, extra caution was paramount. “And have you learned anything else about…?”
Gaius did the same. He angled his shoulders away and answered in a low whisper, “Only that it is, as I suspected, a very powerful enchantment. At this point it is unlikely the queen will wake on her own, as the curse is intended to trap the victim in their own dreams. The spell itself likely uses an anchor of sorts, but without knowing where or what it is —” Gaius gestured his chin towards Gwen’s bed “— I believe by the time we are able to determine where it is, even if it is in Camelot, it will be too late.”
Merlin assumed as much already, but his heart sank at the confirmation. “Arthur?” he asked in a hush.
Gaius’ shoulders heaved as he exhaled, sighing. He said, “As well as can be expected, I’m afraid. How was your research?”
Merlin smoothed out the long strip of linen as he wrapped Gaius’ instruments, then began to roll it gently across the table. Arthur’s dinner was where he had left it, untouched. “I possibly found something that might allow me to increase the range of that location spell I found earlier. But it would probably be too obvious to run around the castle casting spells and waving smoke all over the place. So, that’s probably off the list.”
Gaius quirked a brow, as though imagining such a spectacle. “Indeed.” Merlin pressed his lips together in a thin smile. Yeah, it would be a little funny, except if Merlin resorted to that he’d be on a pyre before he got finished with the east corridors.
His eyes flickered back to Arthur. “I also found mention of a joining spell — I believe it was used before to link minds, in a similar way that the Druids are able to communicate over distance without words. It requires a lot of focus, but I think I could manage it.”
Despite the sliver of hope in his voice, Gaius quashed it immediately with his dour expression. But then it turned pensive as he asked, “In what way?”
Merlin fiddled with the edge of his jacket. “It allows an exchange of thoughts. If the curse is meant to trap someone in dreams, perhaps with a little tweaking, I could slip into Gwen’s. Then I could break the spell from within.”
Gaius shot him a pointed look. “I’ve only heard rumors of such a spell — surely that is a dangerous thing to attempt. Even riskier to attempt while the person you would be joining minds with is under a malicious, unbreakable sleeping curse.”
“I can handle it,” Merlin assured him.
Of course that only earned him a dubious eyebrow. “Wherever did you find such a spell?” Gaius hissed, then glanced back pointedly at Arthur. “Even before the Purge, I don’t think such a thing would be attempted. And I’ve warned you not to invent or modify spells on your own. You don’t have the training to do so. That would be incredibly foolish to try.”
“…I may have broken into that secret area in the library again.” Gaius opened his mouth immediately but Merlin hissed, “Risky, I know, but I was running out of ideas in your books, so I thought —”
“Merlin.” Gaius’ voice rose, and his reprimand was a tad too sharp. He and Merlin froze as it echoed around the chamber. Arthur shifted his weight out of the corner of Merlin’s eye, stiffly rising to his feet. He knelt and pressed his forehead to Gwen’s brow, murmured something, and kissed the crown of her hair. By the time he turned, Merlin was helping Gaius collect what was left of his poultices and physician's equipment.
Arthur stopped on the other side of the table. Merlin ducked his head and busied himself rolling and wrapping Gaius’ supplies. Gaius limped towards him, but Arthur held out his hand. “Have you found anything, Gaius?” Arthur asked hoarsely.
“I’m afraid not, sire. I will keep looking. In the meantime…” Gaius glanced back to the bed. “I recommend you should get some sleep.” Arthur offered him a look that expressed precisely how he felt about that suggestion. Gaius added, sternly, “In your own chambers. You have not left these rooms in all this time. I will have someone sent up to look after the queen while you rest.”
“Rest,” Arthur repeated with a scoff that was almost a laugh, though there was no amusement to color his tone. “How can I rest when she’s— when…?” Merlin bit down on his tongue and resumed packing Gaius’ bag.
Gaius nodded, understanding and his eyes filled with shared sorrow. He said gently, “Merlin and I will return to my chambers and continue our research. We will let you know if we should find anything. I really must insist you get some rest tonight, sire.”
Arthur’s shoulders slumped. The dark rings under his eyes gave him an altogether unwholesome appearance, gaunt and worn. Merlin imagined he looked no better — since the queen had been stricken with the curse, he had not slept for even a moment in his relentless search to lift it. Arthur said, “Promise to wake me the moment you find anything. Or if she wakes.” There was always the hope that the curse would lift suddenly, but Merlin was not much of an optimist these days. Typically Arthur didn’t resort to misguided optimism either, but Merlin was not about to dash his hopes. That seemed altogether too cruel.
Gaius inclined his head, his hands still clasped at his back. “Of course, your majesty.” Arthur waved him off. He sunk into the dining chair and dropped his head into his bent arms. Whether from exhaustion or out of the desire to hide his face, Merlin was not entirely sure. They left Arthur there, and Merlin was sure he would ignore Gaius’ requests and stay at Gwen’s side through the night. But Arthur was not the only one with a sleepless night ahead.
Once back in Gaius’ chambers, Merlin raced up the stairs to his room to grab his magic book and the book he borrowed from the library vault and dropped them heavily on the worktable. “Before you say anything,” Merlin said. “Can you at least look at it?” Gaius eyed him with thinly veiled exasperation. Merlin wheedled, “You know magic is the only way we can save Gwen. If I’m going to do this spell, I should at least know whether it will work or not.”
Gaius sighed heavily and sat on the bench beside the table and spun the worn tome around to face him, and slid it closer. He squinted down at the text. When he looked up to open his mouth, probably to order Merlin to get his reading glasses, Merlin already had them in hand and held them out. Gaius took them, still frowning, and began to read.
While the Queen of Camelot slept, he and Gaius resorted to poultices and tinctures meant to improve circulation. Merlin slipped towards the back to rifle through Gaius’ stores and began grinding lily root and hawthorn together. Most of their tonics used lavender, which was used to ease sleep, but given the queen’s condition, he and Gaius had forgone their typical remedies in favor of herbs that were known to invigorate the body and disturb sleep. Anything to encourage wakefulness. The fear of leaving her to waste away in the bed — for it had been known that those who became so sickened and remained prone for too long could suffer stroke, or even suffer fits as their blood thinned from their limbs and pooled in their center. With the care of the queen’s health in his and Gaius’ hands, it left him and Gaius stretching the queen’s arms and legs, and rolling her onto her side. Gaius read as he worked, fingers trailing over the words as he read.
Merlin rolled out his shoulders, stiff from the number of hours he spent hunched over the book in his room as he scoured the pages for answers. As he ground into the mortar, he imagined the darkened city below. As he glimpsed from the corridors earlier, the city was silent as its people marched quietly, holding aloft their candles and held together by the spirit of hope.
Three days prior, the royal house of Camelot had been enjoying a rather lovely, if not somewhat humid, champion’s tournament on the muddy fields. Camelot’s monarchs resided atop their chairs in the royal observation box. Arthur was due to compete after the joust, which he had gracefully forfeit at the queen’s request. “And to spare you all abject humiliation,” Arthur told his knights, to which Gwaine guffawed loudly and replied, “In your dreams, your majesty.” Camelot’s mid-summer tournament had brought knights from all across the realm to try their hand at the grand prize: a hundred gold pieces to the victor. While Gwen had laid down her request that Arthur consider his own safety, although Arthur had never stepped down from a challenge, he granted his wife’s request. There had been too much bloodshed. Arthur was not the young brash prince anymore.
There was also the matter of the prize; if Arthur won then the prize would return to the treasury, and Gwen insisted it would make for a suitable competition if Arthur declared his intent not to claim the grand prize. Arthur saw merit in her request and agreed. “But I am still going to compete,” he argued (mostly to himself), as Merlin stuffed him into his hauberk and armor.
The queen smiled. Amused, Merlin assumed, at how Arthur looked as he tried to adjust his armor and preen in front of his wife. “I would never spoil your fun, my king,” Gwen promised. “I do know how you enjoy trouncing your knights in the name of good sport.” Her smile turned sly. “But do try to leave some of their dignity intact, or you will have some very dispirited knights to deal with at training next week.” Merlin choked back a laugh and busied himself with Arthur’s cape, straightening it against his shoulders so it fell evenly.
That earned a huff of amusement from Arthur. Gwen stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his jaw, said, “I look forward to seeing your fight, my king. Win for me, won’t you?” and then departed from the tent with her skirts swishing around her ankles. Arthur flushed, but he was biting back a besotted smile. When he turned to Merlin, who was biting his lip and trying not to look overly bemused, Arthur’s smile flipped into a scowl. “Looking at your king like that is treason,” Arthur said.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “And rolling your eyes at your king will have you in the stocks,” Arthur added with a growl. Merlin chuffed a laugh and shoved the helmet over his head.
“Good luck, sire,” Merlin said cheerfully. “The queen and I will be cheering from the stands.” Arthur barked out his name as he readjusted his helmet and swung half-heartedly at Merlin’s head, which Merlin sidestepped easily and skipped from the tent. Arthur wouldn’t come sprinting after him, since he was the king, and propriety would keep him from chasing down his servant in full view of every noble house and visiting knights.
Gaius was sitting in the chair beside Gwen when Merlin finished squeezing through the crowds and took his place standing at Gwen’s shoulder. Gwen tried offering him the chair beside Gaius, but Merlin was too excited and couldn’t stop bouncing on his heels, so he refused. He would just fidget in his seat the whole time anyway.
Camelot’s knights stepped onto the field as the last servants finished stripping away the leftover broken lances and clearing away anything else amiss from the jousts. Merlin clapped and cheered loudly as Gwaine took his place for the first match against a knight with one of Caerleon’s noble crests. Merlin spared a moment to wonder if Gwaine recognized his opponent — he had been the son of a noble from Caerleon himself. But if he did, it did not show on his face, though Merlin was as aware as anyone how easily truth could be disguised from a person’s face.
It had been so long since Merlin allowed himself to enjoy a tournament. Usually he was so worried about threats slipping in through the cracks and he spent most of the tournament chasing down the perpetrator. Gaius appeared to be enjoying the chance to unwind as well, at least until he was called back to his tent to care for one of the wounded knights. There had been few injuries from the joust, and the knights were left resting in the physician’s tent with poultices atop their bruised limbs and shoulders.
With Gaius gone, Gwen insisted he take the empty seat, and Merlin finally agreed. If there were any odd looks from other knights or the neighboring delegations, he didn’t notice. When Arthur stepped onto the field, he shouted and cheered as loud as he could, while Gwen clapped enthusiastically. She couldn’t raise her voice like Merlin — damn courtly propriety — but Merlin had no such limitations.
As was customary, each knight presented themselves before the queen. Arthur marched up before the observation box and bowed at the waist. Gwen smiled, her lips splitting open in a broad smile that could not be contained. She stood, bent over the railing, and offered her hand for him to kiss. Arthur clasped her wrist and flipped her hand open to press a kiss to her palm, their eyes never leaving one another. Merlin’s stomach flipped at the sight. His own ears tingled with warmth at their easy, fond displays. An open declaration of love. Deep in his chest something burned – not jealousy, but for held too much affection for both of them to ever be jealous, though something also ached in there, a bit cold and yearning.
They cheered together as Arthur bested one knight after another, until his round reached his own knights, and Merlin’s voice was hoarse by the time Arthur had worked his way through each of them. Not surprisingly, Gwaine put up the most resistance to losing. He was rather looking forward to the grand prize, after all, not that he needed it. Still, when his sword was disarmed and he was left weaponless, he finally yielded to his king.
Gwaine had done moderately well at the joust, and he was in good standing still for the grand prize despite his loss to Arthur. The melee and the archery events would wrap up the tournament in the following afternoon. Merlin wouldn’t be surprised if he did take the prize after all; he was undoubtedly the most adept knight, and the most skilled across all branches of the hosted events.
Sir Elyan approached their observation box after Arthur and Gwaine’s match. Merlin quickly forfeited his seat to offer it to the queen’s brother. “Elyan,” Gwen greeted him, and clasped his hand. “You did well.” Elyan had lost to Sir Gwaine, but it had been a rather close match, much like Gwaine and Arthur’s. Perhaps another year, at the next tournament, he would have finally learned all of Gwaine’s tricks and best him then.
“Sir Gwaine fought well,” Elyan replied, smiling. He had changed out of his muddied armor and cloak with a lighter chain mail, though he kept his sword at his side.
“As did you,” said Gwen. Elyan ducked his head, still smiling. Gwen looked out onto the field, her eyes shining with pride, while Arthur’s armor gleamed under the mid-day sun. He was muddied and there was a line of blood across his cheek where Sir Gwaine had drawn blood, but his smile was unfettered and bright.
After the last round, Arthur departed from the fields as the undefeated champion, and made his way to his tent. Merlin was already halfway down the stairs and met Arthur in the king’s tent to help him out of his armor, shedding the dirt and dried mud splattered across his once-gleaming armor. He helped Arthur into a set of clean leather armor. Then Arthur dismissed him and made for the observation box to sit aside his queen and watch the last few rounds of the duels.
With the king and queen watching on, he returned to his semi-hidden corner behind Arthur’s shoulder and rested against the wall supports. Merlin had lost track of the number of duels and was nearing a light doze when something shifted. His eyes cracked open. The current duel was proceeding as normal, steel clashing against steel, and the crowd cheered and jeered as the champions battled for the second top spot.
It was only because Merlin was looking for something amiss that he spotted the woman at all. She was across the tournament field, and the onlookers had not taken note of her because she was otherwise unsuspecting, though her cloak was drawn across her brow and obscured her face from motion. Even from a distance, Merlin saw the way her lips moved.
There was a crack of thunder — Merlin’s legs were in motion before he recognized where he was going. Arthur straightened in his seat, almost to his feet. Gwen jumped to her feet almost as quickly as Merlin, startled by the sound, and turned herself towards Arthur, her back to the crowd.
A bolt of light shot through the crowd and struck her back as she turned. Arthur, though still in the middle of processing something had gone wrong, still had a knight’s reflexes and caught Gwen as she crumpled. The stands filled with screams. Guards and knights alike hopped over the fences and hunted in pursuit of the sorceress, who slipped and vanished from Merlin’s view as the crowds scattered and pursued the safety of the castle walls.
Sir Elyan and the king were left in the box, as Arthur cradled Gwen’s limp form. Merlin’s ears were still ringing from the echoes of powerful magic, magic he had not felt in so long. The magic of a high priestess.
He lifted his head and searched among the faces of the fleeing crowds in hopes of catching a glimpse of Morgana’s cold green-blue eyes, but there was nothing, and he couldn’t waste his time chasing her if she did not wish to be found. He knelt beside Arthur and Elyan and Arthur nearly pushed him away, but Elyan caught Merlin’s shoulder. “Help her,” he said. To Arthur he said, “I will get Gaius. Merlin is here to help.”
Merlin’s hands were trembling, and he forced himself to stop. His mind was still spinning as he surrendered to the realization he had been too slow — too slow to save Arthur, except that Gwen had turned at the right moment, and taken the spell meant for the king.
Arthur’s expression was caught in a myriad of misery and stunned disbelief, but he loosened his arm hold around Gwen and allowed Merlin to scoot closer. Merlin placed his hand around the joint of her shoulder and neck, and then dropped his head to her chest. Her heart beat steadily, if not slow, and her breathing was even and slight. He cradled the queen’s jaw and tipped her head back, peeling back her eyelids. Her brown eyes were rolled back in her head, her eyes twitching from side to side, the mark of someone deeply asleep. Dreaming.
“She’s just asleep,” Merlin said, and had he not already been on his knees, he would have sunk to the ground in relief. “She’s just sleeping, Arthur. She’s alright.” Arthur’s entire body seemed to collapse in on itself with relief. The vice around Merlin’s heart loosened. He had let his guard down, rather foolishly — but at least Gwen was alright.
As true as Merlin’s diagnoses had been, and though Gaius came to the same conclusion, it wasn’t until that evening that he and Gaius discovered that Merlin had been correct, except for one thing. Gwen was not alright. She would not be alright; for the queen would not wake, despite all of Gaius’ efforts, and even after Gaius tried herbs, the dreaded hammonicus smelling salts, but nothing seemed to disturb her from her deep slumber. “It is the spell,” Gaius told Arthur, and the relief was wiped from the king’s face. “A very powerful curse, my lord. The intent is to put the victim to a sleep from which they never awaken. The sorcerer responsible had much time to plan — with a spell this powerful they must have anchored it to something, an object of magical origin, to increase the potency of the sleeping spell.”
Arthur clutched Gwen’s hand to his chest. “And Guinevere?”
“In all my research, every record is the same,” Gaius shared heavily. “And in all cases, as I feared, it is always fatal to its victims. I am sorry, your majesty. I wish I had better answers.” Arthur’s knuckles whitened. Merlin remained hiding in his place behind the column in the queen’s chambers. While Arthur and Gaius talked quietly on the other side of the room, leaving through the chamber doors to enter the corridor, he slipped around them and crept up beside Gwen’s chamber bed.
She really did appear to just be asleep. Merlin placed his palm over her forehead. Gaius had devised a quick diversion for Merlin to try his hand at magic, as since the queen’s fall, he hadn’t had a chance alone with her to attempt anything. Her skin was cool to the touch, dry, warming quickly under the heat of his hand. Merlin whispered, “Onwacan.”
Nothing in Gaius’ books indicated he would succeed, but Merlin knew he had to try. After a beat, he slunk away from her side. Her breathing remained unchanged and she did not stir. Merlin’s heart ached heavily, but he had not yet given up hope. He had stood against worse odds before.
By the time Arthur returned to the queen’s side, there was nothing to indicate he had ever been there, and no evidence that a sorcerer or Merlin had visited at all.
Merlin jerked his head up at the creak of Gaius’ bench as he shifted his weight. At some point after grinding herbs and packing them into poultices or thinning them into tonics, he had leaned forward on the table onto his arms and fallen into a light doze. It had only been a few moments — the candles were not much lower than he remembered,
“Well?” Merlin asked hopefully.
“…It will work,” Gaius allowed, and then scowled as Merlin’s expression lit up. He clearly aimed to crush Merlin’s hopes by adding with emphasis, “In theory. But magic theory and magic practice are entirely two different things, as I’ve warned you —”
“It’s good enough for me,” Merlin interrupted. “I’ll sneak in tonight, if you can assure nobody will interrupt me.” He grinned, cheeky and bright. “Arthur never needs to know. We can just say the spell wore off on its own. Maybe your research was wrong. It’s not like Arthur is going to contradict you and look through those books himself.”
Gaius sighed as though Merlin had already cast some great disappointment. “Merlin. You are missing a rather important part of the spell.”
Merlin waved him off dismissively. “If you mean about only being able to cast it on a full moon on the feast of something something of old, yeah, whatever, I’m aware. I skimmed through that. I’ve managed spells before without needing little requirements, it’ll be fine.”
“I meant that it is not meant to be cast by the same person who is intruding on another’s mind,” Gaius snapped. “Or did you skim past that as well?”
Merlin winced. “I had read that. But it’s powerful magic, Gaius, and I don’t see too many other sorcerers volunteering to risk their necks to save the queen.”
“Give me at least another day,” Gaius pleaded. “We will have enough time to find an alternative. There may be a way to still locate the anchor.”
“…Alright,” Merlin allowed, and nearly opened his mouth again to argue with a “but” clause, before biting his tongue again. Gwen wouldn’t last another day after that. Gaius knew that, too. Merlin wouldn’t risk her life on a whim.
Gaius closed the tome. He stood and limped heavily to stand beside Merlin. “I can try the library again,” Merlin offered. “I’ll drop these off in the queen’s chambers on my way.”
Gaius scrutinized him. He looked so old and sad in that moment, as though he read right through Merlin’s thin lie, and knew his true intentions. “If you believe it will be helpful. Just…be careful.”
While Gaius wasn’t looking, Merlin slipped the tome into his bag underneath the tonics and poultices.
The guards posted outside the queen’s chambers nodded as he entered. Merlin exhaled quietly in relief to see the chambers were otherwise empty, besides one of Gwen’s ladies in waiting at her bedside, running a warm cloth over the queen’s brow. Merlin dismissed her softly and said he would look after the queen until the morning. Once alone, he returned to the doors and locked them as quietly as he could. The guards outside didn’t appear to hear the sound of the bolt as it scraped against the wood and slid into place. As usual, Camelot’s security was always somewhat lax, which both relieved and infuriated Merlin in equal measures.
He returned to the queen’s bed and set the tonics and poultices on the small nightstand table. He opened the tome and placed his stronger hand over her forehead, and his other slightly above her stomach. In a moment of weakness he lifted the hand over her forehead and smoothed down her hair. Without her usual animation, Gwen seemed so small and fragile on the large poster bed, with the sheets tucked up to her waist. He knew as well as anyone how strong she was, but when he saw her like that, that small corner of his heart that wanted nothing more than to see her safe cried out with despair to see her so lifeless and still. She was just asleep, he reminded himself. And he was going to wake her up.
By all truth, Merlin didn’t need the book, but he knew he always felt slightly more confident with the source within arms reach. Especially if he was trying something new. He pressed down lightly on Gwen’s forehead and said, “Ic i féhe, þu geswefnest.”
After a moment of stillness, silent except for his own heaving breaths, he dared himself and cracked open an eye. He was still awake, and the tell-tale spark of magic hadn’t moved from where it pooled in his chest. He repeated the words again, louder, “Ic i féhe, þu geswefnest.”
Nothing. His magic stirred unhappily and he felt it sing down his veins, but when it came in contact with Gwen…it bounced back and reared as though hitting a solid wall. So he repeated them again, and then again, with the same result. Frustrated, he spat out the words once more and added, “Geanlæcan bréostgeþancas.” Unite; join thoughts. Make one mind.
Something slotted into place, like two stones catching an edge and notching together. Merlin opened his eyes again, though he couldn’t keep them open for long, as his vision blurred into a swirl of colors. Darkness encroached his vision and his head fell forward; heavy, so much heavier than his neck could support. His knees buckled underneath him and he sank into the chair at her bedside that the lady in waiting had left there.
There was another voice there, with him, somewhere in the dark, but it came from a great distance. It was soft with sleep and barely more than a whisper, but he felt more than heard the curious intent behind it. Merlin, it asked. Merlin, is that you…?
Gwen, Merlin thought blearily. For a moment he relished the fact he had succeeded, and then fell into the river of deep sleep, and thought nothing more.