In Search of Remembrance ~ Part 6c ~ The Warrior and the Warlock

[gfeather]

Autumn slipped by quickly in Camelot, and soon the chill of winter came blowing out of the north bringing an end to the freedom of time spent beyond the walls of the city and driving everyone indoors. The weather turned foul less than a fortnight after the last of the harvest was brought in and wet sleet made anyone who had to venture outdoors miserable. Despite the harvest being restored after Anhora’s judgement even more bountifully than it had grown, the winter was looking to be a long and difficult one. Snow came early, wet and heavy and soon all but the main roads were mired in a slushy mess that made most travel out of the question.

Merlin returned to spending more time working with Gaius preparing medicines and treating the increased number of patients seeking remedies for various cold weather ailments. He also dedicated more time to working with Morgana, free to instruct her directly now that his secret was shared with her. She had a sharp mind and was a quick study, picking up the various mental exercises and simple enchantments readily. Merlin had been hesitant to teach her more obvious spells, practically under Uther’s nose, but in the end he could not refuse her. The thought of the long years she spent in fear of her talents preyed at his compassionate nature and he could not deny her the opportunity to use her power of her own accord. He did, however, limit the enchantments he taught her to the least noticeable and most benign, though he knew that would not save either of them if they were discovered. Keeping these lessons a secret from Gwen was also rather challenging, and finding the opportunity to work together when they wouldn’t be interrupted was difficult.

Despite being more confined, Merlin found himself surprisingly contented. His days were busy and his nights... His nights were spent with Arthur, sheltered from the creeping cold of the castle walls beneath warm blankets and soft linen sheets. They had needed to be cautious in their public interactions since they had returned from Ealdor. More than once he had received an elbow to the ribs and a pointed look from Morgana when he treated Arthur in ways that might raise both the eyebrows and suspicions of the various courtiers. Still, as winter deepened and the nights grew longer, Merlin savoured the many hours of darkness he spent in Arthur’s bed rediscovering the lover he had waited so long for.

Less than a week before the Midwinter feast and Arthur’s coming of age celebrations, while laying in a post coital haze with his head pillowed on Merlin’s stomach, Arthur mumbled something into his navel that jolted Merlin into wakefulness.

“What?!”

Merlin felt Arthur frown against his stomach. “You heard me. I don’t know if I can make my oath at Midwinter.”

“Arthur, you have noticed the dozens of nobles that have travelled through terrible weather to get here for your coming of age ceremony haven’t you?” Merlin said completely incredulous.

“Of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that saying those words... it would be a lie, Merlin.”

Merlin’s voice softened, “Is it just the ‘laws and statues’ part that bothers you?”

Arthur nodded. “Mostly. If I don’t have my word, what do I have?”

“Your ancestors include more than just Uther, and even he wasn’t always opposed to magic. You can make your pledge with that in mind,” he said, brushing Arthur’s sweaty fringe from his forehead.

“It isn’t just about the magic. I don’t want this,” Arthur said, with a slightly wild hand gesture encompassing the bed and their state of undress, “to be something we have to hide forever. If I’m to be king, I won’t pretend anymore.”

“You want the kingdom to know about this? About us? Don’t be ridiculous, Arthur. Even as king, you can’t just do whatever you want. There’ll be expectations from everyone and you’ll need an heir. Regardless of what you do in your own court, other kingdoms will see it as a weakness,” Merlin said and stroked Arthur’s hair soothingly as if the action might dispel some of his own upset.

“It’s not ridiculous, Merlin. I won’t live a lie and I won’t marry some poor woman just to make people happy, and unless you’ve been making up everything you said about unifying the land and all this once and future business it won’t matter. If I’m to be high king of all Albion, there won’t be any other kingdoms to find me weak, and even if they did, I have you. Once your talents are known, only a fool would stand against us.”

“And an heir?”

Arthur shook his head. “You’re the immortal one, you figure it out.”

Merlin felt his heart both swell and break at the same time. That Arthur was even entertaining the notion of the true nature of their companionship becoming known made him want to shout from the tallest tower of the castle, but Merlin knew it wasn’t a practical reality of their situation. Nor was forgoing a wife and heir if uniting Albion didn’t go as planned. “Arthur, it isn’t that simple...”

“I know it isn’t quite that straight forward, and I’m not suggesting walking through the castle arm in arm or dancing to minstrels for the entertainment of the court. All I am saying is that you won’t be a dirty secret to be hidden away and pretend doesn’t exist. Things will be difficult enough when we repeal the ban on magic.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “And you think people won’t have some serious misgivings when they find out you’re sharing a bed with a sorcerer?”

“They can think what they like,” Arthur said and licked a damp trail up from Merlin’s navel to his left nipple where he stopped to nibble, completely distracting Merlin’s thought processes.

“I can’t think when you do that.”

“Then don’t think. Let me worry about the court.”

Merlin tried to think of a response to that, but Arthur’s hand grasping his thigh and pulling him to straddle Arthur’s hips made it impossible to come up with a sensible reply.



On Midwinter’s eve, Merlin stood at the edge of the hall, dressed in his official livery. The room was filled with every noble family that had been able to make the journey to the castle to join in the celebrations held for Arthur’s coming of age. From his place against the wall he had a clear view of the steps up to the throne where Arthur knelt before the king and recited his oath.

“I solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the customs, statues and laws laid down by my forbears. I promise to exercise mercy and justice in my deeds and judgements.”

“Do you swear your allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?” Uther asked, holding out a sceptre.

Arthur’s voice was clear and filled the hall over the low murmurings of the assembled guests. “I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of its peoples.”

The corners of Uther’s mouth turned upward as he took the crown Geoffrey had brought up from the vaults and placed it upon Arthur’s head. “Now, being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot.”

The hall burst into applause and though Merlin could not see Arthur’s face clearly, he could see the look of genuine pleasure and pride on the king’s face. A small frisson of gratification danced at the edges of Merlin’s awareness, and he knew without seeing Arthur that he was truly happy to receive Uther’s approval. Despite his misgivings about the oath taking, Arthur had finally accepted that every future ruler who had ever taken such an oath did so with his own interpretation of what the words really meant. Ultimately, Arthur’s pledge was more to the people of the kingdom itself than to Uther. It had been with that in mind that Arthur had spoken with such conviction. Now, all of Arthur’s worries were lifted off his shoulders and he walked proudly through the hall accepting congratulations and well wishes from the guests.

Merlin continued to watch Arthur swan around the room revelling in the moment. His attention was so focussed on the newly crowned prince that he didn’t notice Gwen sidling up beside him.

“How does it feel to be servant to the Crown Prince?” Gwen asked.

Merlin jumped. “You startled me Gwen.”

“You were watching Arthur pretty intently. Proud of him?”

Without really considering his words, Merlin said, “Arthur doesn’t need a crown for me to be proud of him. He knows that.”

“You really do love him, don’t you,” Gwen whispered.

“What?” Merlin said his attention suddenly focussed entirely on Gwen.

She smiled kindly at him. “It’s alright. I don’t think anyone else really sees it. I only noticed because... Don’t get mad, but Morgana let it slip. Sorry.”

Merlin groaned and let his head thump back against the stone wall. “This is never going to work. Why do I listen him? How on earth does he convince me to do foolish things like letting my guard down?”

“We all do foolish things when we’re in love, Merlin,” Gwen said, barely restraining a giggle.

He shook his head at her. “You think this is funny.”

“It is, a bit. I mean, I understand that it’s serious and if someone important caught you there would be all sorts of trouble, but once I knew what to look for... He’s so different now, from what he was like before you came to Camelot. He smiles more, and is nicer to everyone regardless of their rank or station. He still gets testy when things don’t go his way, and loses his temper, but I see him trying harder at things because he wants to do better for you. It’s really sweet.”

“I’m doomed. I might as well run away now while I still can.”

“Don’t be so overdramatic, Merlin.”

“Overdramatic? When I’m-”

The sound of glass shattering interrupted him and both Merlin and Gwen jerked their heads to see a dark horse with a black rider burst through the window into the room. Ladies shrieked and clung to each other and the many knights milling about the room drew their swords in response to the intrusion. The rider walked his horse slowly and deliberately the length of the hall towards where Arthur stood, sword ready, in front of Uther.

As the horse passed by him, Merlin felt waves of cold power rolling off the figure and shuddered. He glanced over to where Morgana was standing and she met his gaze, pale faced and frightened. Merlin was just about to step forward, damn the consequences, when the black rider, a knight, took one of his gauntlets to hand and threw it down to the floor between Uther and Arthur.

For a long, tense moment the room was utterly silent.

“I, Sir Owain, accept your challenge.” The knight beside Arthur stepped forward, gauntlet in hand and faced the challenger.

The helmeted head turned sharply to face Owain. “Single combat. Noon tomorrow. To the death.”

Owain nodded and the knight turned his horse and rode from the room. At once the hall exploded with exclamations of surprise and Arthur turned to stare at Owain in disbelief. Merlin could see Arthur speaking urgently to the young knight, and he was torn between the desire to shadow Arthur in case of any further danger and the urge to follow the dark knight to figure out what exactly it was. Instead of following either of these impulses, Merlin edged through the crowd towards Gaius.

Leaning in close, Merlin said, “That was not a man.”

Gaius shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

“He wasn’t interested in challenging Sir Owain, either.”

“I fear not,” Gaius agreed. “I shall have to consult with Geoffrey, but I think I have a good idea who our unexpected guest was.”

“Gaius?”

“Merlin, stay with the prince, and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.”

“I think you seriously overestimate my powers of persuasion.”

“Merlin...”

“Alright, you don’t need to order me to do something I would do anyway.”

Gaius shook his head and turned to go, then looked back and gave him a piercing stare. “Don’t you go doing anything foolish either, with or without Arthur.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at Gaius and received one in return. Shoulders slumping a little, Merlin nodded and sought out Arthur in the crowd to keep an eye on him until the excitement had passed and they could both return to Arthur’s chambers.



After the uncomfortable forced cheer of the banquet Uther had insisted continue as planned, Morgana had come to Arthur’s chambers and railed at Arthur about the challenge. Merlin had seen the fear in her eyes and already knew what she had seen. Owain was going to die. Arthur hadn’t even bothered offering comforting platitudes. He simply nodded when Merlin spoke of the cold waves of magic rolling off the black knight and lowered his eyes and sadly shook his head when Morgana begged him to call off the duel. His voice was resigned when he spoke of the Knights’ Code and sleep did not come easily to either of them. In the morning, Arthur had gone to the training grounds with Owain to guide the young knight thorough a warm up and offer what advice he could.

It was a grey day, cold and damp. Dozens of servants had been up since dawn clearing the wet snow from the arena and the ground was a mess of slick mud on frozen earth. Arthur had spent a long time frowning at the combat location and shaking his head, obviously not pleased and worried about the outcome of the duel.

Now, as the midday bell sounded, Arthur’s face was grim and Owain’s nervous as they made their way from the entrance to the center of the arena. The dark knight was already waiting for them, completely still, the point of his sword to the ground with hands resting upon the hilt and his gaze fixed on the royal box where the king sat. The man had not removed his helm and Merlin was quite certain that what they would see if he did would send Owain fleeing from the arena, Knights’ Code or not. Morgana was seated beside Uther, her pale face and the dark circles under her eyes all Merlin needed as evidence that she had spent the night caught in dark dreams of unpleasant futures. Merlin hung back beside Gaius by the entrance, hoping that there was some chance of Owain surviving.

Arthur’s face was grim as he walked with Owain to the centre of the arena in front of the royal box. The gathered crowd stopped whispering and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Uther’s face was carefully blank, but the king’s hands gripped the arms of his seat. The air was tense as Owain removed his cape and took his sword in hand.

“The fight shall be to the knight’s rules,” Arthur said in the hush, “to the death.”

Arthur took his place at Uther’s side and the black knight moved for the first time since his arrival for the duel, taking his large sword in a two handed grasp and facing his opponent. Owain settled his helmet into place and stood ready.

“Let battle commence,” Arthur announced.

The words had scarcely left Arthur’s mouth when the black knight made a heavy swing at Owain, on the offensive immediately. Owain blocked it with his shield and the metallic clang resonated through the arena. The young knight blocked several more blows, backing up around the field, but not making any strikes of his own. The black knight was a full head taller and several stone heavier and each hit fell against Owain with a force that made him stagger. Merlin turned his eyes briefly to Arthur, noticing the prince was having a difficult time remaining still in his seat, sword hand clenching and unclenching with each strike.

Merlin cringed when Owain was knocked off balance by a kick to his shield. The onlookers gasped as the black knight advanced, but Owain managed to roll away from the next blow and regain his feet. Owain raised his shield against the onslaught that followed, but was driven back onto one knee, bracing himself.

Arthur, no longer able to restrain himself, shouted, “One well aimed blow!”

Owain forced his shield arm higher and drove his sword up into the black knight’s abdomen, sinking the blade deep. Staggering back to his feet, Owain didn’t notice his sword had come away with no blood. The black knight, completely unharmed, pressed forward, battering Owain with a dozen vicious blows. Owain, unable to keep his feet, fell back to the ground. The black knight stepped over Owain and Arthur leaned forward, hands braced on the rail in front of him as if about to jump into the fight himself. Uther placed a restraining hand on his son’s shoulder even as the black knight raised his sword and drove it through Owain’s chest.

Merlin looked on, appalled but not surprised. Morgana turned her face away into Gwen’s shoulder as the black knight pulled his sword free and came to stand facing the king. Blood welled up from Owain’s wound and soon the ground around him was stained crimson. Arthur broke free of Uther’s restraining grasp and launched himself out of the royal box. He strode purposefully towards the black knight and Merlin bit his lip knowing exactly what Arthur was about to do.

The gauntlet Arthur threw seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to fall to the ground. It landed at the black knight’s feet with a soft clink of metal that echoed in the sudden silence.

“I, Arthur Pendragon, challenge you.”

The black knight’s voice was hollow. “So be it.”

“Single combat, noon tomorrow,” Arthur said grimly.

The black knight nodded, and turned at once to leave the arena. As he passed by Merlin, the cold waves of magic rolled off him again. Merlin shuddered.

“Please tell me you know something about what exactly that thing is,” said Merlin.

Gaius drew a shaky breath and nodded slightly. “I think I might.”

Merlin looked back to Arthur and saw that Uther had left his seat and was leaning into Arthur’s face, speaking quietly but intently. Arthur nodded at whatever was said and turned to kneel by Owain’s body. Several other knights joined him and together they bore Owain from the field. Arthur would not meet Merlin’s eyes as he passed. Looking back, Merlin saw Uther staring down at the bloodied ground and shaking his head.

Unable to stay there any longer, Merlin turned to Gaius and with a nod they left.



The stairs leading down to the crypt were dark and a thick layer of dust covered the steps. Gaius had insisted he needed to check the tomb before he could be certain, but Merlin had already guessed what Gaius was thinking. Still, he picked up a torch from the sconce and lit it. Holding it high, he peered into the gloom below.

“Lead the way.”

Gaius led him down into a wide room with a low ceiling. The room was crowded with several rows of stone tombs and narrow doors in the wall leading to dark alcoves. The air was close and stale and room icy cold.

“Over here, Merlin,” said Gaius, pointing to the far end of the room.

They shuffled through the narrow space between the rows and came to stand in front of a stone tomb, cracked and broken... and empty.

“It’s a wraith, isn’t it?” Merlin asked, already knowing the answer.

Gaius nodded. “I had feared it might be.”

“Owain never stood a chance. No mortal weapon can harm a wraith.”

“I didn’t want to believe it. Uther didn’t want to believe it.”

“Who is it?” Merlin asked.

“Tristan, Igraine’s brother.”

“The queen?”

Gaius nodded. “When Igraine died, Tristan blamed Uther for her death... blamed him for...”

“Blamed him for using magic to help her conceive,” guessed Merlin.

“Yes. Tristan came to the gates of the city and challenged Uther.”

A horrible realisation hit Merlin. “It was their duel that triggered the Purge, wasn’t it.”

Gaius stared at the gaping hole in the tomb, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “The straw that broke the donkey’s back, possibly, but the bitterness and anger Uther felt came before Tristan arrived demanding blood. They fought and Uther won, but after he was dealt the fatal blow, Tristan cursed Camelot to one day suffer his return.”

“Did he have magic?”

“Not that I was aware of. I had thought it the ramblings of a dying man.”

“Well, curse or no, wraiths don’t just appear on their own,” Merlin observed. “They have to be summoned.”

“And have a spirit with enough anger and grief to give it purpose. Tristan would have been chosen because he would be driven to act.”

“He wanted revenge on Uther.”

Gaius nodded. “Yes... and possibly Arthur.”

A spike of fear ran through Merlin. “Arthur?”

“Have you never seen a man who blamed a babe for the death of a woman he loved?” Gaius asked, his voice filled with great sadness.

Merlin frowned. “Arthur lost his wife that way, once. He grieved, but he adored his son.”

“I have at times wondered how much Uther regrets having an heir instead of a wife. He cares for Arthur a great deal, but there are times...” Gaius shook himself. “I should not speak of it. I don’t know the mind of the king.”

“It doesn’t matter what Uther’s feelings are towards Arthur; I seriously doubt he wants to lose his son and for once we are in perfect accord. We need to find a way to destroy the wraith.”

“I have never encountered one myself before,” said Gaius.

“Nor have I,” Merlin said. “I’ve only heard stories of those who have, and none have been good. I don’t know of anyone who has destroyed one outright.”

“There may be information in some of my texts. We will find something,” Gaius said, his voice sounding doubtful.

Merlin felt doubtful himself, but he held the torch high to light their way and followed Gaius up the stairs to search for some hope.



The weak winter light faded quickly and night settled in dark and uneasy as Gaius and Merlin searched for something that might work. Merlin’s strength had never been in combative magic and there were no solutions to be found in his book. Despite the hundreds of books shelved in Gaius’ rooms, there were none there that held an answer either. Any references to wraiths were followed by admonitions to avoid them at all costs as they would only depart when their purpose had been fulfilled.

Though he knew it was likely futile to search in the library for information about magic, he had allowed Gaius shoo him off to look. Geoffrey had frowned at Merlin’s nervous rambled explanation but had raised his eyebrows in shock at the news that Gaius believed the black knight to be a wraith. He didn’t have much help to offer, as Merlin had expected, but he did mention an ancient ballad that told of a warrior who had a weapon that when wielded could not be beaten. When Merlin expressed curiosity in the tale, Geoffrey had produced a worn scroll, cracked and spotted with mould. Geoffrey struggled to translate the text, written in a disused script, but as the old librarian spoke, Merlin began to shake. A sword, forged in a magical fire, had been wielded to defeat a myriad of fantastic creatures. Gryffins, cockatrices, wyverns... all had been slain, and no man who stood against the warrior had been able to best him.

Merlin jumped to his feet, calling his thanks over his shoulder as he bolted from the room. He needed a sword. Arthur would be busy either running drills or tending to his sword himself, and Merlin didn’t want to take his favourite blade if his idea didn’t work. He nearly went sprawling as he tripped on the stairs leading up to Morgana’s chambers and clutched at the doorjamb, panting as he pounded on the door.

Gwen opened it, looking startled when she saw him. “Merlin? What’s the matter?”

“Gwen... I need a favour.”

Gwen looked taken aback. “From me? What can I do?”

Morgana came up behind Gwen and looked at him with a desperate sort of hope in her eyes. “What is it?”

“I need a sword,” he blurted.

Gwen snorted indelicately at this. “You?”

“Yes. I mean, it’s for Arthur. I need a sword for Arthur,” Merlin managed to gasp out at her.

Gwen’s brow furrowed. “Has something happened to his? He shouldn’t use a different sword for a duel without having long practice with it. He wouldn’t be used to the weight and balance.”

Morgana spoke from behind her. “Arthur can’t win with his sword. It can’t kill the black knight.”

Merlin shook his head. “No. I have an idea, but... if it doesn’t work, I don’t want to ruin his blade. I know it’s a lot to ask Gwen, but I need the strongest sword your father has ever made.”

Gwen was puzzled, but Morgana’s gentle urging had the three of them slipping out of the castle to the smithy. Gwen bit her lip as she stepped down from the barrel she needed to reach the very top shelf and handed Merlin a cloth wrapped sword. Morgana held the candle she had surreptitiously lit closer as the fabric fell away. They all looked at it in wonder.

“It’s amazing, Gwen. I knew Tom was talented, but I’ve never seen a sword like this,” Morgana whispered.

Gwen smiled. “He finished it not long ago. He says he thinks it’s the best sword he’s ever made.”

“I have to agree,” said Morgana.

Merlin nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“My father will kill me if he finds out I’ve taken it,” Gwen said.

“No he won’t. He’ll be proud, very proud,” Merlin said, wrapping the blade up again and tucking the sword under his arm.”

Morgana met his eyes. “What are you going to do to it?”

“Make it the mightiest weapon ever,” Merlin said, hoping he sounded confident and hurried to the door. “Thank you, Gwen. I’d explain, but... well, you’ll understand tomorrow, I expect.”



When Merlin arrived at the opening to the dragon’s cave, he found Kilgarrah already there waiting for him.

“Merlin. I wasn’t certain you would ever return seeking my aid,” the dragon drawled.

Merlin ignored him. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“I do not get much news of the goings on of the castle locked away down here as I am, but yes, I have some notion. The dead who do not sleep have a rather distinctive magical signature, do they not?”

“Tristan threw down the gauntlet at Arthur’s coming of age celebrations. Owain took up the challenge.”

“And he fell,” Kilgarrah stated.

Merlin nodded. “I’ve never encountered a wraith before. I didn’t know what it was and there was no way to stop the duel.”

Kilgarrah sat back on his haunches and looked piercingly at Merlin. “What have you come to ask of me?”

“Arthur will fight the wraith tomorrow. He needs a sword that can kill the dead. I need a magical fire to burnish a sword for Arthur.”

“Merlin, any weapon forged with my assistance will have great power,” Kilgarrah said in a low warning tone.

Merlin nodded solemnly. “I know.”

“You do not know. You might guess, but you have not seen what damage such weapons have wrought in the wrong hands.”

“In lesser hands, yes, it would be dangerous, but not Arthur. He is pure of heart. It will not corrupt him.”

“His worth has been proven, yes,” Kilgarrah allowed, “but he is still mortal.”

“For now,” said Merlin simply.

“Perhaps,” Kilgarrah paused and stared a long while at Merlin. “If I do this thing for you, the sword must be wielded by Arthur and Arthur alone.”

“I understand.”

“You must swear to this. Without your oath, I cannot conscience creating such a dangerously powerful weapon.”

“It will be Arthur’s. I swear it to you. If he should perish,” Merlin said, swallowing a lump in his throat at the very thought, “I will see to it that no other hand can use it. That is my oath to you.”

Kilgarrah held his gaze for a long time and nodded. “Let me see this sword then. What weapon have you found that you believe can withstand a dragon’s fire?”

Merlin removed the cloth and raised the sword in the air in front of Kilgarrah with his magic. The dragon tilted his head this way and that contemplating the blade, then nodded.

“The man who forged this blade was a master of his craft. On its own, it would be a mighty weapon. When I am through, it will have no equal.”

Merlin drew back to the entrance of the cave and lifted the sword higher. He had to shield his eyes as Kilgarrah bathed the sword in flame. He felt heat prickle against him in the icy cold of the cavern and bright light flare behind his closed eyes. When the sound of flames ended, Merlin looked out to see the sword suspended in the air, glittering in the torchlight. He lowered it and brought it near, gasping at the etchings that had been made upon the blade.

“It’s beautiful,” Merlin breathed, ghosting his fingers along the inscriptions that seemed wrought in gold.

“Beautiful, yes, and terrible. Remember your oath, Merlin. Excalibur is Arthur’s alone.”

Merlin met Kilgarrah’s eyes and nodded. “No other hand shall touch it.”



Merlin left the cave under the castle and hurried up to Arthur’s chambers. The hour was late, but he doubted Arthur was doing anything but pacing restlessly or sharpening his sword. When he let himself in with his precious bundle, eager to show off the magnificent blade, he found the room quiet. Much to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur was flopped on the bed, still clothed and fast asleep. Merlin smiled fondly and chuckled. Too many late nights must have finally caught up with Arthur.

Setting the wrapped sword down carefully on the table, Merlin shook his head at the remains of the prince’s dinner. It was picked apart, but largely uneaten and even the wine was still half full. Feeling parched, he picked up the goblet and drained it then poured himself another from the pitcher. The horrible nervous feeling he had felt since the black knight arrived was fading and the tension he had carried in his shoulders was slipping away. He felt good, and sleepy. With his task completed and a way to defeat the black knight found, Merlin knew he could indulge in a well earned rest. His lids drooped and he shuffled over to the bed to collapse beside Arthur.

In his sleepy, fuzzy-minded state, he noticed Arthur hadn’t even taken off his boots, which was odd. Blinking his eyes several times, Merlin tried to focus his mind, but found he couldn’t. Something wasn’t right. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth tasting something odd and herbal on it. He sucked in a breath. He’d been drugged, and Arthur too by the looks of it.

Merlin reached out a hand to the post at the end of the bed to steady himself and swung his head around to the door. The effort was far greater than it should have been. He blinked again several times, and his vision finally focussed on a person standing by the door.

“Gaius... I think I’ve... drugged,” Merlin said with effort.

Gaius nodded and came toward him. “I am sorry, Merlin. I could not deny Uther this request. Neither you nor he could bear to see Arthur die tomorrow.”

Merlin shook his head slowly and wobbled precariously. “He won’t... I have... Gaius...”

“All will be as it should, Merlin. I would not have done this if I didn’t think it for the best. Let’s get you laying down. I don’t think I could lift you if you fell asleep where you are.”

“Gaius... no...” Merlin mumbled, but insistent hands guided him around the end of the bed and eased him down beside Arthur.

The last thing Merlin saw as his eyes fell closed was Gaius’ face leaning over him. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

He heard footsteps walking away and the snick of the lock on the door and then everything fell away into sleep.



Merlin nuzzled the warm body next to him, feeling contented and lazy. Consciousness was just pulling at the edge of his pleasantly sleepy haze and he didn’t want to get up. He was content and moving seemed like a great deal of unnecessary trouble. With some effort, he cracked an eyelid open and pale winter light burst into his vision. The quality of it was enough to let him know it was past morning and getting on to noon. Had they really been allowed to sleep the morning away? It must have been some feast the night before for no one to come looking for Arthur. Or was it some sort of a birthday present? His mind turned over this thought for several moments, then he startled into wakefulness.

Arthur’s birthday had been two days ago and a wraith dressed as a black knight had arrived. Arthur had challenged it and was set to fight at midday. Bolting upright, Merlin swayed a little and took in their condition. They were both in bed with a heavy blanket covering them as they lay fully dressed. Arthur was still flat on his back, breathing slow and deep, obviously still heavily asleep. Casting his eyes around the room, Merlin caught sight of the remnants of a meal on the table. He nodded as the fog in his mind started lifting. Arthur hadn’t finished supper, not even his wine.

The wine... it had been drugged. It had been drugged by Gaius. As the night before began to resolve itself in his mind, Merlin staggered to his feet and went to check the door. It was locked, though it wouldn’t take more than a thought for him to unlock it. Clearly, however, they weren’t meant to leave the room. Panic suddenly clenched his heart and he looked to the table again. The sight of red wool wrapped around a long sword filled him with relief. He walked unsteadily over to the table and carefully removed the cloth.

The light reflecting off the sword was nearly blinding. The sword seemed to shine not only from the surface, but from within as well. The etchings Kilgarrah’s fire had made upon the blade were even more intricate and beautiful in the light of day than they had appeared when he first saw them by torchlight the night before. Down the centre was written TAKE ME UP in an ancient script and Merlin remembered the dragon naming the sword and his vow in return. This was Arthur’s sword, and only Arthur’s.

A groan from the bed caught Merlin’s attention and he set down the sword, hurrying to Arthur’s side. A bleary eye glared up at him from the pillow.

“How are you feeling?” Merlin asked.

“Mmph,” Arthur grunted and blinked his eyes several times in rapid succession.

Merlin brushed his fingers fondly across Arthur’s cheek. “Don’t sit up too quickly. You might feel a bit dizzy.”

Arthur smacked his lips and shook his head a bit. “Did I drink a lot last night?”

“No. Gaius drugged your wine. He knocked both of us out.”

“What?!”

Arthur struggled to sit up. He wobbled a bit precariously, but seemed to find his equilibrium quickly. Merlin brought his hands to Arthur’s shoulders to steady him. The unsteadiness seemed to pass quickly and Arthur looked down at himself, then at the bright light streaming in through the window.

“It must be nearly midday. I have to get ready,” Arthur said with a slightly frantic urgency.

Merlin gave Arthur’s shoulders a small squeeze. “Easy. You’re right and we’ll get down there, but you’ll probably need a few minutes before you’re up to armed combat. Just try standing for the moment while I get your gear ready.”

Already feeling much steadier, Merlin quickly rummaged through the wardrobe and began arranging Arthur’s things. Arthur stumbled over to the window and looked out on the courtyard below.

“There’s no one about. They must all be at the tournament arena.”

“We’ll find out when we get there.”

Arthur ran his hands through his already messy hair in frustration. “If I’m late, everyone will think me a coward.”

“If you’re late, it will be because Gaius drugged us with a sleeping draught,” Merlin said and he could hear the bitterness in his own voice. “He said... I think he said something about Uther telling him to do it.”

“You think?” Arthur snapped.

Merlin ignored the tone and replied, “Well, I was already nearly half asleep myself when I saw Gaius. He must have been waiting for me to come back.”

“Where were you, anyway?”

“I was busy meeting with the dragon.”

“The dragon? You mean the one that’s locked up under the castle? What for?” Arthur asked in complete bafflement.

“Yes, that dragon. I went to see Kilgarrah because I needed his help. I have something for you, Arthur,” Merlin said softly.

Arthur turned from where he had been staring out the window and Merlin carried the sword reverently over to him, kneeling as he presented it. Arthur’s eyes widened as he took in the weapon and almost hesitantly reached out a hand to pick it up. He raised it and turned the blade back and forth, watching the way the light played across the surface and testing the weight of it. Merlin stepped back as Arthur brought a second hand to the hilt and swung it back and forth a few times. A small smile played on both their lips.

“It’s called Excalibur,” he whispered. “It was made for your hand, and no one else’s.”

Arthur’s voice was hushed with awe. “It’s incredible.”

“The sword itself was made by Tom, and then it was burnished with the dragon’s breath. It will be able to destroy a wraith.”

“I don’t doubt it. It’s... Merlin... Thank you,” Arthur said, struggling for words.

Merlin felt his heart swell and turned away, not wanting to be like some over-emotional young maiden. “It’s the sword you deserve to have. Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

A strong hand gripped his shoulder and turned him back around. He looked up to see Arthur’s earnest expression just before Arthur leaned in a kissed him with a brutal urgency. When Arthur broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against Merlin’s.

“I love you. You deserve more than that, but it’s all I have to give.”

Merlin closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment to savour Arthur’s declaration. “It’s enough. It’s always been enough.”


Excalibur by ~ReniMilchstrasse on deviantART

Nearing the tournament grounds, the clash of swords meeting was barely audible over the gasps and cheers of the crowd. The castle and streets had been deserted and Merlin had little doubt that the whole of the city was there watching. At the entrance to the arena, he caught his first glimpse of the king duelling, and it did not look to be going well.

The black knight was on the offensive, backing Uther up along the walls that protected the people in the stands. Each blow he blocked with his sword caused his knees to buckle and forced him to take another step back. A hard strike against his shield sent Uther off balance and he twisted away, stumbling as he tried to regain his footing. The black knight pressed his advantage and threw his weight behind a long slash across the king’s torso. Uther failed to block in time and the crowd gasped and fell quiet as their king sank to his knees.

Arthur did not pause long enough to put on his helm. He gripped Excalibur tightly in both hands and charged onto the field. Surprise echoed through the stands and Gaius whipped his head around look at Merlin. Merlin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stepped forward to have a better view of the fight.

“Merlin, what are you-”

He shook his head slightly, eyes focussed on Arthur. “Did you really believe I would allow him to fight without a weapon that could defeat his opponent?”

“Uther came to me. He commanded me to keep Arthur from the challenge. In this, I would not refuse him,” Gaius said with conviction.

Merlin felt irritation rising, but tried to remain calm. “This is Arthur’s challenge. He shouldn’t have been locked in his room like a disobedient child.”

They spoke no more for a time, attention fixed on the clash of swords. Both Arthur and the black knight were battling without shields in a two handed grip. Arthur moved with a speed and ferocity Merlin had never seen and though it was by no means an even matchup, he began to gain ground on the black knight. A wild swing at head level made Arthur duck and turn, sword leading him through and he nearly caught the black knight on the back swing, but the knight’s sword rose to block just in time. Metal rang out like clear chimes with the force of their blows and even without trying to connect with Arthur, Merlin could feel the pulsing adrenaline in his system.

The black knight came in close, delivering bone jarring blows that Arthur struggled to block, but none found their mark. When the knight lifted his sword above his head to bring it down with greater force, Arthur sidestepped and the chipped and tarnished blade sank into the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur levelled his sword and drove it hard and deep into his opponent’s gut.

Pulling back, Excalibur slid free easily and gleamed in the light, not a trace of blood upon it. However, unlike the combat with Owain, the black knight made a horrible sound and staggered backward. There was an unearthly shriek as the air around the knight began to swirl. His head jerked back with great force and the helmet he wore fell to the ground. The crowd erupted with cries at the sight of the shrivelled, decomposing face of the wraith. Arthur took several steps back and was unable to disguise his horrified expression. It was not long lived, however. The wraith began falling to pieces and within moments was nothing more than eddying mist and smoke. The dark smoke rose up into the sky and then it burst apart and was carried away by the wind.

For a moment, everyone was still, and then a great cheer burst out from the stands. Arthur raised Excalibur in acknowledgement, then turned to where Uther lay on the field.

Merlin glanced briefly at Gaius. “We’ll need some men to carry Uther from the field. He doesn’t have much time.”

With long strides, Merlin entered the arena and came to stand behind where Arthur was kneeling. The ground beside the king was stained with blood, but Uther was still awake and breathing. Merlin rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder but did not say anything. After a brief meeting of eyes, Arthur turned back to his father, holding his hand tightly.

Looking away up into the stands, he saw the jubilation on the faces of the onlookers turn to sorrow and wished they would leave and let Arthur have this moment without their scrutiny. It was a more subtle and complicated magic than he was used to using, but Merlin closed his eyes and reached out to gently prod people into leaving. Thankfully, his efforts were assisted by the royal guard who began clearing the stands and urging the crowd to leave. He whispered a spell to make Arthur and the king as unremarkable as possible and soon the arena was nearly empty.

Morgana came down from the royal box and offered him a nod of thanks before kneeling in the dirt beside Arthur, not caring for the icy mud that stained her dress. Gwen hung back, visibly puzzled under the effects of Merlin’s spell and Merlin scanned the rest of the stands to see if there were any stragglers. At the top, near one of the stairs that led to the exit, stood a cloaked figure staring down at them. Merlin let his spells drop and focussed his attention on the figure. Cold blue eyes met his and he startled in recognition. Nimueh.

He was about to move away from Arthur and climb up to her, when she inclined her head, nodded and was gone.

Arthur walked ahead of the half dozen knights who bore the king up to the castle, head held high, but Merlin could feel Arthur’s pain. Although his injuries had not killed him outright, the wound Uther had suffered at the hands of the wraith was fatal. Once within the king’s rooms, Merlin hung back by the door to let Arthur and Morgana make their farewells. Uther had refused Gaius’ treatment and the physician stood silently beside Merlin, in case he was called for.

In a hushed voice, Gaius said, “Would you have refused if Arthur had made such a request of you?”

Merlin shook his head. “Probably not, but it would not have been a good way for Arthur to gain the crown, locked in his rooms. The people saw him today and knew him for his bravery and selflessness.”

“The sword... Where did it come from?” asked Gaius.

Merlin gave a weak smile. “I had Kilgarrah make it.”

Gaius’ eyebrows rose to his hairline. “That’s more than just a weapon to defeat a wraith.”

“I know,” Merlin said with a nod. “It’s the sword of the Once and Future King.”

Gaius met his eyes and asked, “What will you do now, Mael?”

Merlin turned to look at the room beyond where he could hear Morgana’s quiet tears turn to louder, hiccupping cries and saw Arthur stand and take her in his arms, rubbing her back soothingly. “We do what we were meant to do eight hundred years ago, only now both the task and the rewards are far greater.”



Over the next several days, Merlin scarcely saw Arthur. During the day, he was busy attending to matters of state and succession and at night he held a vigil over Uther’s body, as was customary. During the funeral ceremonies Merlin had remained at a distance, taking in Arthur’s tired and worn features. The days without rest were taking their toll, but it would be over soon. The rites were not delayed for need of travel as nearly all the heads of noble houses were at the castle already and the coronation would take place the following day, now that the appropriate period of mourning had passed.

Merlin had been somewhat at loose ends, unsure of what Arthur wanted or needed from him, and not able to find a spare moment to talk alone together. He made sure Arthur’s rooms were maintained, even though Arthur wasn’t there to do more than change clothing. He checked in on the knights and the stables and a dozen little things he knew Arthur gave his attention to and made sure everything was running as smoothly as could be expected. Merlin also visited Morgana and did his best to ease her mind about the conflicted emotions she felt at her guardian's passing. For all that she had feared Uther, she had also loved him.

Exhausted, and nearly to the point of falling asleep standing up, Merlin stumbled into Arthur’s room and almost fell over his feet when he saw Arthur there. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, the prince’s crown he had received less than a week earlier in his hands. At the noise, Arthur looked up, his thoughtful expression softening when he saw Merlin.

“Hey,” Merlin said gently, regaining his balance and coming over to sit on the bed beside Arthur.

“Hey,” Arthur replied. “It’s been some week.”

“It has. Ready for tomorrow?”

“Not really. I don’t feel ready.”

“You never feel ready,” Merlin said with a grin, but sobered quickly. “I don’t think anyone does.”

Arthur shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way, was it?”

Merlin shrugged. “I’ve been told by several people that there are many paths that can lead to the same destiny.”

“These past months... since I remembered... It’s been so awkward and uncomfortable around him. I wanted to be free of it, but now...”

“He was still your father, even if he wasn’t the only one or the best. There’s nothing wrong with grieving his loss.”

“He did terrible things, Merlin, unconscionable things, but he also used to let me ride in front of him on his fancy destrier when I was small and let me best him with the first wooden sword he gave me.”

Merlin placed an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and squeezed. “For all his deeds and misdeeds, he met an honourable end. He wanted to protect you, and he walked into that duel without hope, so that you could rule after him.”

“He spoke... before the end,” Arthur said leaning his head against Merlin’s shoulder, “He said he was proud of me. He said he hoped I would be a kinder and more just king than him.”

The stoic face Arthur had worn since walking from the tournament field cracked. His breath hitched and half choked on sobs as he wept in Merlin’s arms. Gathering him in his arms as best he could, Merlin held tight, stroking Arthur’s hair and whispering quiet reassurances. When the tears were spent, Merlin urged Arthur into bed and slid in behind him, holding him close with both arms and magic.



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