[Merlin: quickening days (2/3)]
(part one)
~
The next morning Arthur was awake before Merlin arrived. His mind was still restless and he dressed himself in a pointedly different set of clothes, casting occasional glances at the blue bowl where it sat on the table.
Merlin did little more than open the door, notice that Arthur was fully clothed and sitting on the edge of the bed, and beckon with his head. They made their way to Morgana's room in silence and slipped in to join the familiar tableaux. Arthur didn't like that he was starting to forget what Morgana was like when she wasn't lying like that, quiet and shifting, and damn him, Merlin had been right: Arthur couldn't see any evil magical being. It was just Morgana, and whatever she was Seeing was causing her considerable distress, and the futile ache that rose in Arthur's chest whenever she moaned refused to be banished simply because of this new knowledge.
This time Arthur ordered breakfast for one person only from the servant in the corridor, let Merlin apologise to Gwen, and then the both of them followed Gaius back to his rooms.
"I believe I have found a precedent," Gaius said without preamble, as soon as the door was closed, "in the writings of a very powerful magician who lived in the last century. His town's official Seer had such a vivid vision of such a terrible event that she trapped the town in a repeating day like this one in order to prevent it from ever coming to pass." He paused, turning around with a battered book in his hands. "The magician had a great deal of magical skill, enough that he was able to live linearly in the way that we are doing now with the rowan's help, yet he only discovered the truth of the issue when it was too late. He found a way to wake the Seer, but the very next day the disaster -- it was a great fire, started by accident in the middle of a drought -- wiped out most of the village."
"So she's doing it on purpose?" Arthur asked.
Gaius shook his head. "In any other Seer that may be the case, but Morgana is untrained and so has very little control over what must be an enormous amount of power. She enlists my help to actively suppress the dreams, as you know, and has never been able to use her abilities to scry with deliberation. No; I believe that in Morgana's case her desire to avert this feared event was strong enough, and her raw power great enough, that the circle was created of its own accord."
"She's protecting us," Merlin said softly. "There's nothing evil about that."
Gaius gave him a sharp look that Arthur couldn't read. "Quite. Though I'm sure I don't have to tell you that not every person in Camelot would see past the fact that her power is currently exerting control over a great many lives."
"People should be judged by their intentions," Merlin said, and now he was definitely looking at Arthur. "Not by something that they just happen to have been born with."
Arthur thought about William and wasn’t surprised at all. He didn't like the feeling that he was being preached at by people who were technically in his service, but he also couldn't find it in himself to disagree. "This disaster," he said, refusing to engage; there were more pressing things to attend to, "if we were to wake Morgana, it would happen tomorrow?"
"Very likely," Gaius agreed. "This is the last safe day, so this is the day in which we must continue to live."
"So we stop the terrible thing and then we wake her up." There was a rueful smile on Merlin's face now. "Easy."
Arthur snorted. "And how do you suggest we go about finding and preventing something that hasn't happened yet? It's not like we can ask Morgana about what she's Seeing."
Gaius began to flick through the book. "Perhaps not, but…there is a chance she could tell us, even so. Merlin, I need lemon thyme, and clover honey, and the green bottle at the far right of the highest shelf."
"I'll get that." Arthur hated to feel idle when there was finally a chance that they could do something to improve the situation. He located the shelf and the bottle in quick succession, and added them to the small pile that was growing in a hastily-cleared spot on the table. Gaius was working with deft precision that Arthur had to admire in the same way he admired the angle of Gwen's wrist as she flicked sheets and lifted chainmail, and the same way he had admired Lancelot's sublime battle-grace; Arthur liked to see things done well by experts.
"Oh, I see," Merlin was saying, hovering by Gaius's shoulder and watching the potion take shape. It was starting to fizz. Arthur hoped that was a good sign. "It's the opposite of the one you normally give her."
"Correct." Gaius poured a few drops from the green bottle into the bowl and the fizzing stopped. "I hate to do this to her ladyship, but I'm going to have to make her dreams worse. When I left her she was making some sounds; it stands to reason that the more vivid her vision is, the more likely she is to speak."
"Is this the best idea we have?" Arthur demanded.
"It's the only idea I have, your highness." Gaius stirred the bowl and gave Arthur a huffy look reminiscent of Merlin just after Arthur had given an order related to mucking out the stables or wearing hats with feathers. On reflection, Merlin had probably learned it from Gaius. "Unless you would like to suggest a better one...?"
"Fine," Arthur sighed, "let's try it."
When the potion was ready, Gaius approached Gwen on his own; she took very little convincing to let him relieve her for an hour while she went for some food and fresh air. Arthur hid around the corner with Merlin, thinking that it was quite ridiculous how accustomed he was becoming to sneaking around his own castle.
"This is," he started, and Merlin met his eyes with a smile.
"Familiar?"
"I'm convinced you're a bad influence, Merlin. Ready?"
"Gwen's gone." Merlin beckoned with his head and they joined Gaius in Morgana's room. Morgana herself was in a different position to the morning, her hair tangling around one side of her neck and one arm flung out awkwardly.
"I do apologise for this, my dear," Gaius murmured, and tipped the contents of the bowl carefully into her mouth. Morgana spluttered a little and some of the potion spilled back down her chin, where Gaius wiped it away with a sheet corner, but she seemed to swallow most of it.
A lengthy silence followed.
"How long --?" Merlin began, but he was interrupted when Morgana gave a gasp so sharp and so sudden that Arthur was sure she must have awoken.
"No." A full-voiced protest. "No, it can't -- it has to stop. It's too -- too loud, I can't -- Arthur."
Arthur had lived through many dangers and faced many foes, and he was no stranger to fear no matter how useful it was to pretend otherwise, but he had never heard anything so terrifying as his own name thrown out in Morgana's despairing cry.
"Not Arthur, please, no, no," and Arthur couldn't watch her any more, so he looked sideways instead and found himself focusing on Merlin's hand, white-knuckled around the bedpost, and the look of haunted fear on Merlin's face. He wanted to do something, maybe slap Merlin's arm and tell him that he was an idiot who worried too much, and the very act of wanting to comfort went some way to calm his own clawing terror.
"Morgana." Gaius took hold of her hand, which seemed to subdue her somewhat, but she kept shivering and frowning. "Lady Morgana, you have to tell us what it is that's coming."
"It's too loud," Morgana said again, and her back arched and dry sobs shook her body.
"Do we really have to --" Merlin's voice was high and unsteady, but once again Morgana interrupted him.
"I can't hear, I can't see, why won't it stop screaming --"
"What's screaming?" Arthur heard himself say, something stirring in his memory. "Morgana, what is it?"
Morgana went still. Her chin moved from side to side, sluggish, as though she was drunk and searching for something. "The dragon," she said, so softly that Arthur had to strain to hear her. "The dragon is screaming."
Gaius gave her hand a shake. "Morgana. What else?" But she was back to her former state, barely moving, just showing flickers of facial expression and distressed sounds. "That's all we'll get, I'm afraid," Gaius said. "Her mind is protecting her, just as it is protecting us. I would not force her past this for fear of doing real damage to her sanity."
Arthur discovered that he needed to sit down as a matter of some urgency. He settled for the edge of Morgana's bed, managing to make it look like a casual act instead of something done because his knees were turning into jelly. "There was a boy," he said, before he could think about it too much, "a boy came to Camelot from one of the villages, I talked to him yesterday. Our yesterday. He said something about a screaming ghost, and wanting protection for his village."
Gaius frowned. "It's not a lot to go on. But if it's all we've got -- a ghost, you said? Not a dragon?"
Arthur took them through as much as he could remember of what the boy had said: the history, and the fact that the screaming was becoming more frequent. "It sounded like 'ghost' was just the story they'd attached to this screaming sound, so perhaps...but I don't see how it could be, they killed all the dragons, they..." Arthur caught Merlin's look with ease; he was throwing an identical one in Merlin's direction. "Come on," he said grimly.
"Merlin!" Gaius called after them as they left. "Be careful."
It was some comfort to know that Merlin paid as little attention to Gaius' commands as he did to Arthur's; as soon as they reached the cave, Merlin charged as far forward as he could on the ledge and yelled, "Hey! We need to talk to you!" as though he were trying to get the attention of a lazy kitchenhand instead of a beast that could roast him in an instant.
The Dragon stirred, one eye opening and then the other. "I do not believe that to be true," it said. "You have all the information that you require."
"The terrible event that Morgana is protecting us from," Merlin started, and then stopped and gave Arthur an uneasy glance.
Arthur lifted his head. Straight answers might be impossible, but he could damn well ask a straight question. "Are there any other dragons left, besides you?"
"Uther was blind in his hatred and rage," the Dragon said coldly.
"Blind as in he might have missed one?" Merlin pounced. "So what can we do about it? I assume our destiny isn't to let it destroy Camelot."
"You have the information you need to achieve your destiny, Merlin." There was a pause in which the Dragon shifted one claw and a shower of pebbles leapt into the chasm. "And the young prince will have all that he needs, before long."
"What does that mean?" A panicked note entered Merlin's voice and Arthur looked at him, startled.
"You don't need me to tell you that," the Dragon told him. This was getting them absolutely nowhere.
"Come on, Merlin, we're wasting our time." Arthur turned on his heel and tried not to imagine the feeling of flames licking up his spine. In deliberate defiance of his own nerves, he added, "We'll work out how to kill the dragon on our own."
A long, bitter sound, like an ancient sigh, followed them up the stairs.
"What now?" Merlin asked.
"Now I'm going to go and talk to the boy from the village again," Arthur declared, "and you are going to fetch my armour and weapons, and a spare set for yourself. You still fight like a dairymaid holding a wet fish, and that's not going to be any help at all if we're to kill a dragon."
"But we don't know how to --"
"Weapons and armour, Merlin." Arthur pushed him in the direction of the armoury. So far this adventure had been all talk and books and recipes and more talk, and Arthur was impatient for it to progress to the part he was actually good at. It took him a while to track down the boy -- first he had to find the steward, who seemed surprised that Arthur knew of the boy's existence, and said that he'd sent him away.
"But he's still loitering outside the castle gates, sire," he added, just as Athur was biting back a curse. "I do apologise, I was certain he would just waste your time. The error is entirely mine."
Arthur waved away his apology and went to find the boy. He tapped his foot through the rendition of the story and quickly started asking questions: no, nobody had ever seen the ghost, and yes, perhaps the screaming did start twenty years ago. Arthur also discovered that the boy's name was Edward and that the village in question had the spectacularly unimaginative name of Riverbend.
"Because it's on a bend in the river," explained Edward, who still seemed to be labouring under the delusion that Arthur was not very bright. Which was highly unfair considering that as far as Edward was concerned, this was the first time they'd ever spoken.
Arthur extracted some more detailed directions to the village out of the boy and sent him off again with the same vague promise as last time, then went to spend an enjoyable few hours whacking Merlin with the flat of his sword.
In the evening Merlin was dispatched to tell Uther that Arthur had come down with a freak summer cold and was probably contagious, and he needed Merlin to fetch and carry for him, so unfortunately they would not be at the feast. Merlin must have detoured past the kitchens on the way back, because he was carrying a large basket full of food on his return.
"Not venison, I hope. I'm not avoiding that bloody feast just to eat the same meal in my room."
"No, I begged some ham and bread. And Jill threw in some berry tarts because she thinks I need to eat more."
Arthur snorted. "You do need to eat more, Merlin, you're a disgrace to my reputation. People will think I'm starving you."
In between Arthur stealing the best slices of ham and Merlin managing to drip berry juice all over his trousers, there was a lot more talking. Merlin didn't want Arthur to face a dragon alone; Arthur didn't want to have to explain the inexplicable in order to drag along a small army, and he was fairly sure that the title Great Dragon implied that any other dragons would be smaller.
Also, he thought Arthur Pendragon, Single-Handed Slayer Of Dragons, had a nice ring to it.
"We have all the information that we need, " Arthur said sourly. "Somehow I doubt that."
"Well, I don't think other this dragon is living linearly," Merlin pointed out, "or surely Morgana's circle wouldn't be able to prevent it from attacking. If that's what it's going to do."
"That's true. Wait -- Gaius said that the magician in his book had a great deal of power and so lived through the circle without the aid of rowan berries, right? And the Great Dragon is obviously doing the same thing."
Merlin started to nod furiously, and he licked the last berry-stain off his thumb. All this accomplished was the transferral of the juice from his hand to the side of his mouth. "So this other dragon might not be powerful enough. It makes sense."
"How does death work, in this circle?" Arthur had been worrying about this. "Surely Morgana can't bring us back to life, if we die."
"I don't know." Merlin got up from the floor and winced as his knees cracked, then sat on the edge of the bed instead as he packed their empty plates back into the basket. "But I doubt it. Definitely not while we're drinking the rowan, in any case."
"But we have to be able to kill the dragon. Surely. Or there's no point in the day repeating itself at all."
Merlin blinked. "But Morgana isn't doing it on purpose, so it's not like she's expecting us to do anything..."
"I have a headache," Arthur said accusingly. "How about we just find the dragon and I stab it with my sword?"
"Sounds good to me." Merlin collapsed back onto Arthur's bed with a sigh. "I'm going to rub your sword with rowan berries, though, just to be safe. And if it turns out to be the size of a house, we're riding straight back to Camelot and getting the knights."
Rowan. Arthur looked in the basket and sure enough, Merlin had remembered to bring a bottle of tea.
"Here," he said, kneeling on the bed and throwing the tea to Merlin. "Wouldn't want to forget this."
They both drank from the bottle, and then Merlin tried to toss it at the blue bowl but missed by a mile, and then they took turns throwing their boots until Arthur managed to knock the bowl off the table. The sound of it smashing against the floor was almost soothing by now.
"I should be going." Merlin gave an enormous yawn, which set Arthur off as well. Merlin looked like he would have trouble finding his discarded boots, let alone getting back to his own room, so Arthur said, "Don’t be stupid, I don't think it will matter if you stay here tonight. It'll save you just having to come straight back in the morning."
"Are you sure?"
Arthur shrugged. "Nothing we haven't done before."
Merlin looked thoughtful. "This is a very large bed, so I swear, if you poke me in the face with your foot again..."
Arthur considered his options for all of two seconds before poking Merlin. In the face. With his foot. Merlin gave an outraged squawk and rolled to one side, and when he sat up he was clutching his pillow with a tight grin on his face.
"It's a capital offense to assault the crown prince with his own bedclothes," Arthur said quickly, and for a moment Merlin just sat there and held the pillow on his lap, but then his grin grew wider.
"You just made that up," he said, and slammed the pillow into Arthur's face.
Arthur won the ensuing battle because he was clearly the superior warrior in every respect, even when the manner of fighting was far below his dignity. Though it was certainly, Arthur reflected as he was kneeling on Merlin's legs and soundly thrashing him with his own pillow, an excellent way to take one's mind off the fact that one was trapped in an endless magical day. Merlin's hair was a disaster and his cheeks were flushed with laughter and effort, and Arthur's arm was probably going to bruise where it had knocked against one of the bedposts, but he felt happier than he had since this whole mess began.
"Surrender," Arthur ordered.
Merlin gave another furious, futile wriggle and managed to gasp, "Fine, yes, all right," in between blows. Arthur dropped the pillow onto his face in a final triumphant gesture, and crawled off him.
Merlin groaned and manouevered the pillow beneath his head, almost in the very corner of the bed, far away from Arthur's feet. "Good night, sire," he said reproachfully.
"It is, isn't it?" Arthur agreed, and fell asleep smiling.
~
"Arthur. Arthur. Wake up." Merlin was shaking his shoulder.
Arthur slapped his hand away irritably and blinked until Merlin's worried expression swam into focus. "What is it?"
"Okay, so normally I wake up in Gaius's room and I'm coming to help you dress, and I run into Gwen, who tells me about Morgana. But I only run into her because she's coming to tell you -- do you see where I'm going with this?"
It took a while, because Arthur had only just woken up -- really, Merlin shouldn't speak so fast so early in the morning and expect to be understood -- but then there were footsteps outside the door and he got it.
"Oh."
"Yes!" Merlin leapt off the bed and ducked down beside it, on the opposite side to the door.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Merlin." Arthur peered down at him. "What does it matter if she sees you?"
"Your highness?" Gwen called through the door, and Arthur gave up on trying to decipher Merlin's strangeness and went to answer it.
"What is it, Gwen?"
"It's Morgana. Something's wrong with her."
"I'll be there as soon as I'm dressed," said Arthur. "Oh, and I'll fetch Merlin," and he closed the door in her face.
"That wasn't very polite." Merlin emerged from behind the bed and headed for the wardrobe.
"It's not like she's going to remember. And I'm sick of being told the same thing over and over again."
"Well, we have to be told the same thing in Morgana's room." Merlin shook Arthur's tunic pointedly. He was wearing socks, but his boots were nowhere to be seen, and Arthur realised that while Merlin's clothes started the day on, his boots were probably back on the floor of his tiny room in Gaius's chambers. Thinking about it made Arthur's headache threaten to reemerge, so he put it aside and focused on the glide of fabric over his shoulders and the little frown on Merlin's face as he worked the strings on Arthur's cuffs.
By now the whole thing was like being in a well-rehearsed play: they expressed concern, they listened to Gaius reassure Uther that it was nothing serious, they ordered breakfast to be brought for Gwen, and they followed Gaius back to his room, Merlin sliding a little on the stone floor. Nobody had cared enough about anything but Morgana to notice that Arthur's manservant wasn't properly shod; and really, it didn't matter. They wouldn't remember.
Unlike Gaius.
"Next time you intend to sleep elsewhere, Merlin, do feel free to inform me of the fact, if you do not wish me to assume that you've gone charging off on a dragon-slaying quest in the middle of the night. No, it's all right," he waved down Merlin's pink-faced efforts to apologise, "I looked in on the prince's rooms, just to make sure. I apologise for the liberty, your highness."
Arthur stared at him. "My door locks."
"So it does, sire," Gaius agreed.
"And...I don't want to ask any more questions, do I?"
"Probably not, sire. Now." He patted the pages of an open book. "While I'm afraid I can be of little use when it comes to killing a dragon, I have found those parts of the magician's writings describing the potion required to awaken the Seer. The only downside is that it needs to steep for three nights once the ingredients have been combined."
"But it won't work." Merlin frowned. "Nothing will last over three nights as long as Morgana's still forcing everything back at the start of the day."
"Ah, but not if it's made in a bowl of rowan wood. It really is a most ingenious recipe..." Gaius ran his finger down the page, stopped midway, and looked up. "Prince Arthur, could I prevail upon you to fetch some water? Merlin, come and help me, I need --" and he began to reel off a list of things, only a handful of which Arthur was familiar with, so he was glad to pick up the bucket and leave.
He drew a few odd looks when he was at the waterpump, but Arthur met them with looks informing the onlookers that he was the heir to the throne and if he wanted to pump his own water then he was perfectly entitled to do so. When he pushed Gaius's door open again, Gaius and Merlin were huddled over a bowl; their conversation stopped and both of their heads snapped up as Arthur entered.
"It's impolite to send the Crown Prince away so that you can gossip about him behind his back," Arthur told them.
Merlin smiled, but Gaius had the grace to look embarrassed. "I am in need of water," he said. "Thank you, sire. I can manage the rest. Now, if anyone asks me then you're out hunting, but you should leave now if you are to stand a chance of returning before dark. Go on. And take the utmost care, both of you; even if it lacks enough power to withstand Morgana's circle, a dragon is a very dangerous thing."
"We will," Arthur said, and Gaius gave him a look that suggested he was no more confident in Arthur's ability to be careful than he was in Merlin's, but waved a hand to shoo them out the door.
It was exactly as warm as the previous day had been, obviously, but riding under the open sun while wearing chainmail made it seem a lot warmer.
"We have to return before the end of the day," Merlin reminded him, not sounding very happy about it, "because otherwise our horses and weapons will be back at Camelot and we'll be stuck in Riverbend with no boots."
"Then we should ride faster." Arthur dug in his heels. There was no point in wasting time; either this trip would be a success or it would be the equivalent of reconnaissance.
Edward's specific directions turned out to be obselete because they heard the screaming before they saw the village, a cold desperate sound that seemed to burrow underneath Arthur's skin. The screams weren't continuous -- there were long breaks in the noise -- but they were very frequent.
"Over there." Merlin pointed into the forest, away from the riverbank.
"Caves, Edward said." Arthur steered them a little way into the trees until they reached a clearing of sorts, and then reined in his horse and dismounted. She was clearly skittish and upset by the sound, and it wouldn't be a lot of help if she took fright on the the uneven sloping ground ahead. "We'll tie the horses here and go on foot."
As they climbed, a rocky outcropping came into view and the screaming became louder and louder. No wonder it could be heard in the whole village; at this proximity it was almost deafening, and Arthur had to press his mouth next to Merlin's ear to make himself heard.
"Keep in the trees. Don’t step into the open until I tell you to."
Merlin nodded, and then his eyes widened and he pointed past Arthur to the mouth of the nearest cave, set at an angle not far above where they were standing.
"Can't wait, can't wait," came a voice, and Arthur waved Merlin into a crouch before turning around and ducking down himself.
The dragon was not all that large, certainly not when one's only point of comparison was the Great Dragon itself. It was smaller than the griffin had been, maybe twice as large as a horse, and it looked a mess. One of its wings dragged at a dead angle along its back and the other had an uneven edge. It moved out of the cave with a slow shuffle and when Arthur caught a glimpse of its eyes they were slitted, green, and senseless.
"No longer," it hissed, and then gave a dreadful rattle of a laugh. "All dead. All dead in the high caves and the fair mists. All dead in Camelot. Can't wait. "
Then it stood more upright and screamed again, a blast of pure misery that made Arthur's head ring.
"It's mad," Merlin said, almost shouted. He sounded uncomfortable.
"It doesn't matter." Actually, Arthur was relieved, in a way. Of course the Great Dragon could talk, but he hadn't liked to think about this dragon as being an intelligent creature who might argue with them, or plead for its life. "It doesn't change anything. You heard what it said. Either we kill it, or it attacks Camelot."
"It doesn't look like it could cause a terrible disaster," Merlin said dubiously, and Arthur was on the verge of agreeing with him when the dragon stopped screaming for long enough to give a hacking cough, and flames shot into the air.
"Fire." Arthur's heart sped up. "Remember what Gaius said -- the last Seer was trying to prevent an accidental fire. Even if the dragon only killed a few people, it's almost midsummer and a fire could ruin us."
"It's a miracle it hasn't burned the forest down already," Merlin said. "Though I suppose if it keeps to its caves..."
Arthur stood up. "Keep back as much as possible. But be ready to help, if I need it."
Merlin put a hand on his shoulder. "Good luck."
"Well, here we go," Arthur said, mostly to himself. He swung his sword in a wide circle, gripped the hilt with both hands, and then stepped into the dragon's view. At least the dragon hadn't recommenced the screaming after its fireball cough; trying to fight in the face of that din wasn't an appealing prospect.
The dragon saw him almost immediately, and moved a few steps towards him with astonishing speed considering its size. Arthur kept his sword high and as much as his body as he could manage behind his shield, and let himself fall into the focus of battle. Each movement of each part of the dragon's body registered with some part of his mind, and his own muscles tensed or relaxed in response. He was ready.
"Camelot," the dragon said, eyes on Arthur's shield. It was very close now, but not moving. Arthur kept assessing; the neck, eyes and chest looked like the most vulnerable spots, but the eyes were very small and very high. "Die," the dragon cackled, and Arthur had just enough time to tense in anticipation before it attacked; not with fire, not with its teeth, but with its arm. It just reached out and swiped Arthur sideways, one lazy flick that was so fast he didn't even realise what was happening until he was soaring in a sickening arc, his sword knocked from his hand.
"Arthur!" Merlin's shout seemed to be coming from a long way away.
Arthur landed hard and tried to sit up but all the wind had been knocked out of him, his chest was struggling to expand, no air was moving in his throat, and Arthur saw Merlin stand up and start to move. But Arthur's sword was too far away and the dragon was running now and Arthur knew, with the swift certainty that he knew these things in battle, that there was no way he would be able to escape it. He didn't feel afraid; he realised that more than anything he felt annoyed, because the fight had barely begun and this was no way for a proper knight to die, and then he closed his eyes and hoped like hell that the pain wouldn't last too long.
There was a gushing sound, a feeling like he had leaned too far over Gwen's father's smithy fire, and just as he was bracing himself for death he felt something like a giant hand take hold of his foot and drag him to the side, impossibly fast. He slid over rocks and felt his knee strike one of them at an angle that forced a cry of pain from his throat, but didn't dare open his eyes until he had skidded to a halt and discovered that he was, in fact, still alive. Bruised all over, missing his shield, with a warm face and a throbbing knee, but alive.
Arthur sucked in a breath, to the relief of his aching lungs, and opened his eyes. The dragon was ignoring him completely and had rounded on Merlin, who was standing with one hand outstretched in Arthur's direction. Arthur met his eyes and Merlin gave him a look exactly like the one he'd worn as he drunk from the poisoned chalice, all that time ago.
And then Arthur's sword flew up from the ground and into Merlin's hand and for a moment this seemed perfectly normal, and then Merlin said in an empty voice, "Arthur, I'm so sorry," and everything went out of focus. Arthur couldn't think -- his mind refused to cohere around the concept -- but it didn't have to, because the dragon let out a long, slow hiss that became a word.
"Ssssssorcerer," it said, and Arthur could see Merlin's hand trying to remember the proper grip around the sword's hilt. The dragon looked from Merlin to Arthur and then back at Merlin, and funnily enough the next thing it said was also the next word that Arthur himself was thinking. "Traitor."
"I'm sorry," Merlin said again, and Arthur had no idea whether he was talking to the dragon or to Arthur himself, and then the sword flew out of his hands and straight towards the dragon's exposed chest.
Arthur held his breath, waiting, but there was a dull scraping sound as the sword bounced off and fell to the ground. Merlin looked terrified, but he held out one shaking hand and said something in a loud, harsh language, and the dragon reared its head back and screamed again. Merlin ducked to the side and retrieved the sword, and then made a dash towards Arthur.
The dragon seemed to have lost even more of its wits; it flailed around, blowing short puffs of sparks and smoke in every direction, tripping on fallen logs. Arthur stared at it because it was easier than looking at Merlin, who was hauling him upright, but he couldn't keep in the hiss of pain as his weight fell onto his right leg.
"Arthur," Merlin was saying, "Arthur."
Arthur shoved him away, and for a fleeting moment Merlin's face was a mask of misery, but then he held out Arthur's sword, hilt-first.
"I've blinded it, but it won't last, I don't think -- we have to move. You're hurt."
Some kernel of survival instinct in Arthur rose up and seized hold of him. He snatched the sword and he followed Merlin back down through the trees to where the horses were, the sound of the dragon's screams -- higher, now, more like frustration than misery -- fading as they moved. Every step sent pain shooting down his leg, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going.
When they reached the clearing Arthur sat down on a rock, listening hard, but there were no sounds of pursuit. He exhaled and looked over at Merlin, who was standing facing his horse, both hands resting on the saddle, but motionless. The hot anger that Arthur had felt in the dragon's cave was nothing compared to the wild, ice-cold feeling that swept through him now.
"You're a sorcerer."
"Yes." Merlin turned around, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. He spoke in a rush, as though he was expecting to be cut off. "Arthur. How much does it matter?"
"What kind of question is that?" Arthur snapped. "It means everything."
"And the fact that I just saved your life, that means nothing, does it? The fact that I would die for you, is that nothing?"
Arthur had expected -- no, nothing about this was anything he had ever expected -- but this fierce, whip-sharp intensity was very unlike how Merlin had acted when Arthur had found out about the dragon. And about Morgana. And about Will --
A lot of things made a lot of sense very fast.
"It wasn't Will."
Merlin closed his mouth, which had the effect of making him look a lot less angry and a lot more like he was about to burst into tears. He shook his head.
"It was you."
"Yes. And I tried to tell you, I wanted to tell you, Arthur, believe me, but Will -- well, he thought he needed to protect me." Merlin laughed horribly and waved one hand between the two of them; Arthur remembered the flying sword, the way the dragon had reared its head and it took a lot of effort for him not to take a step backwards. "I can't imagine why."
Too much. This was too much. Arthur's leg was screaming; he wanted to collapse into Morgana's endless sleep; it was too much.
"Don't speak to me," Arthur said.
"Arthur --"
"Do as you're told." He limped over to his horse and managed to swing himself up with only a low grunt of pain. "When we return to the palace you will deal with the horses and then return to your room. You will not attend the feast. And you will not speak another word to me today."
Merlin, being Merlin, tried on five separate occasions to disobey this order, but Arthur just kept on kicking his horse ahead. The sun was pouring heat into the air and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, but right at his core was that cold wind of betrayal and uncertainty. He wanted never to have drank the rowan potion; he wanted to be stuck in the circle with everyone else, where the day was long but not dangerous, and Morgana was just overtired and not desperately resisting her own nightmare to keep them all safe, and Merlin wore silly hats and was nothing that Arthur didn't want him to be.
Arthur forced himself to be impeccably polite at the feast, losing himself in discussions of politics and trade and court gossip, trying to remember what came next in the speeches he'd already heard -- anything to keep himself from thinking about the dragon, and about Merlin. It worked for a while; then he got drunk, which worked much better, and he had attained a fragile state of pleasant numbness by the time he returned to his room.
The knock on the door took him by surprise, and he stared at it for a while, trying to decide through the numb haze whether he wanted to let Merlin in or punch him in the face or both.
"Your highness?" It wasn't Merlin's voice. Something sharp and bitter rose in Arthur's throat.
"What?" he yelled.
"A delivery from the royal physician, your highness." The servant sounded cowed, and when Arthur opened the door he took one look at the prince's face and held two bottles out at arm's length. "Gaius asked me to remind you to drink this one, and to rub this one on your knee," he quailed, and as soon as Arthur took them from him, he took a step back from the doorway.
"Thank you," Arthur snarled, and kicked the door shut. He applied the fragrant lotion, drank from the bottle -- it was the hangover potion this time, not just tea, which for some reason made Arthur even angrier -- hurled the blue bowl against the wall in one savage movement, and then fell asleep in a bed that seemed, for the first time, far too large.
~
(part three)