Swimming with the Sidhe - Chapter 3
Title: Swimming with the Sidhe
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Canon era
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 53,589
Author's notes: Swimming with the Sidhe was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: All Arthurian characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators. The Calming Manatee and most of its words belong to HT (the Human Typist) of the Calming Manatee meme.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Merlin had entered Arthur's chambers nearly every day for the past ten years. He took a deep breath outside the heavy wooden door behind which they had huddled countless times. In the past, they had always managed to escape their enemies, whether magical or human. It felt strange to be here without his partner in protecting Camelot.
Merlin wrapped his fingers around the cool metal latch, a familiar shape that fit precisely into the palm of his hand. The feel of it made him ache for the return of his king so that their lives could resume as normal. He closed his eyes and made a promise to all the gods that he would do everything in his power to help Arthur to continue his reign as a noble king, if only they would see fit to return Arthur to him.
Merlin whispered an enchantment so the latch rose silently. The door swung open slowly on its hinges, the creaking muffled by Merlin’s spell. To Merlin's surprise, the bed was empty. He had fully expected to find Gwen there, asleep in her grief, but this discovery made his job easier.
He strode to Arthur's side of the bed and tried the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet. You couldn't be the king's manservant for a decade without learning where he kept his secret possessions. The knob turned easily in Merlin's hand. He tugged the handle, opened the drawer, and bit his lip when he realized it was empty.
His hopes were dashed. Where could Arthur have hidden the horn, if not here? Could it still be somewhere in Gaius’s workshop? Did Arthur have another hiding place that Merlin didn’t know about? Was Gaius telling the truth when he told Merlin that he couldn’t help him?
Morforwyn came to Merlin’s mind. The sea creature had been so encouraging, so calming, Merlin knew he couldn’t give up his quest for the horn now. No, Merlin deemed this mistake about the horn’s location as a temporary inconvenience.
“Just a minor setback,” he whispered to himself with a nod, remembering how the sea creature encouraged him to go after the horn. “It’s here somewhere.”
He looked around the room. The scant moonlight washed the furniture in a dim glow that barely allowed him to distinguish it from the open space. A desk here, a table there, a chair he remembered storing away in Morgana’s old room a few weeks ago. Gwen must have had it brought to the king’s bedchamber. Who knew what other changes Gwen would bring upon the royal household? She’d be a much different ruler than Arthur in some ways, although they shared the same hopes for the success of Camelot.
Merlin tried to remember what had transpired a week ago when Arthur prepared to leave for Camlann, as if it would give some clue as to what Arthur had done with the horn after he and Merlin had returned from the Great Stones of Nemeton. It wasn‘t that long ago. He checked the washstand, the desk, the wooden bowl that decorated the table by the window.
While he was busy searching, he felt a pang of sorrow when he remembered the look on Arthur's face that night when he last visited this room. Having lost his magic, he had to tell Arthur that he wouldn't be joining him on that final journey into battle. Arthur's disappointment in him was palpable. It made Merlin wince to remember that Arthur had thought he was a coward, even after all that had passed between them since that night.
If he found the Horn of Cathbhadh and brought Arthur back, he swore he'd never do anything to disappoint Arthur again.
Merlin checked the pile of discarded clothing that littered the floor behind Arthur's dressing screen, although he doubted Arthur would have kept the horn tucked away in his pocket as he went about the business of running the kingdom. He sifted through the garments, feeling for the shape of the horn. He grinned when he pulled a half-eaten fig from Arthur’s pocket, along with a handful of almonds that Merlin knew Arthur sucked on to pass time during the council meetings. There were few things about Arthur that Merlin didn’t know about.
Behind the dressing screen stood a chest of drawers that Merlin had seldom had reason to explore. The top drawer contained some scraps of parchment with scribbled notes in Arthur’s hand. It was too dark for Merlin to make out whether the words were important or not. He quickly moved on to the middle drawer, where a half dozen tournament medals from Arthur’s youth were stored. He knelt on the floor and tried the bottom drawer. He slid it open and there it was, exactly as he remembered it from when old woman had given it to Arthur in thanks for saving her from the pyre.
He lifted the horn from its hiding place and closed the drawer. Tiptoeing toward the door, he shoved the horn into his jacket pocket. When he reached for the latch, the door burst open.
“Merlin!” Leon said as his torch illuminated the room, casting light onto the furnishings, the untouched bedding, and Merlin’s face. “It's you!” Gwen stood at Leon’s side, looking none too pleased.
“Leon?” Merlin asked, shielding his eyes from the light.
Gwen clutched her fists to her chest. “Guards!” she called.
It all happened so fast.
“No, Gwen,” Merlin said. “It’s me, Merlin… your friend.”
Merlin cursed himself for not thinking about what he would say to Gwen in this moment. Now there was no time to plan.
“Gwen, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said the first thing that came to his mind-the first thing he thought Gwen would need to hear.
Gwen took three steps forward, raised her hand, and slapped Merlin across his face.
“Gwen, no,” Leon said, taking her hand and drawing her away. “No, you mustn't let him upset you.”
Instinctively, Merlin touched his cheek. The harsh slap didn’t hurt much physically, but it hurt Merlin’s heart to know that Gwen was so angry with him, to know that she'd never be able to forgive him for his failure to protect Arthur.
“Friend?” Gwen asked, her chest heaving with anger. “Arthur thought you were his friend.”
“I was with him, Gwen,” Merlin said, tears welling in his eyes. “I tried to save him. I did everything I could.”
Merlin felt horrible about insisting he had done everything he could, knowing the mistakes he had made, particularly calling Kilgharrah too late to save Arthur.
“Did you use your sorcery to try to save him?” Gwen spat out.
“Gwen,” Merlin said. “Please believe me. I’d never do anything to hurt Arthur or you.”
Outside the door a pair of Camelot’s guards arrived, but Leon stopped their progress with a raised hand.
“You’d never hurt him?” Gwen cried. “To think that I was pleased when Gaius told me that you were the sorcerer who intervened on Arthur’s behalf when his army was fighting the Saxons. What good was your magic when my husband drew his last breath? Did you even think to tell him you had magic that could save him? Did you never think to tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Gwen,” Merlin said, wiping the fresh tears from his eyes. “I should have told you. You were my friend and I should have told you I had magic. You deserved to know.”
“But you didn't tell me! And you didn't use your power to save Arthur,” Gwen shouted, her eyes wild.
Leon, to his credit, tried to console Gwen by standing behind her and sliding his hands down her arms. The robe that covered her night dress fluttered with the motion of Leon's hands.
“Gwen, you don't understand-” Merlin said. He had never seen Gwen behave in this way before. Certainly, he had walked in on his share of rows between Gwen and Arthur over the years, but Gwen had always graciously excused herself before Merlin could blush with embarrassment over catching her and Arthur at a difficult moment. But this, this was something different. He had never seen her so furious.
“Understand this. Magic is still illegal in Camelot, Merlin,” Gwen said.
Gwen’s voice had taken on a sinister tone, one that Merlin never imagined could come from Gwen, not even when she was bespelled by Morgana.
“Gwen, please...” Merlin said. If only he could make her understand that he too was devastated by Arthur’s death and that he’d do anything to get him back.
“Guards!” Gwen cried. “Throw him in the dungeon, and use the cold iron restraints.”
Before Merlin could protest, two burly guards rushed past Leon and seized Merlin by his arms. In hindsight, Merlin should have used his magic to escape them. Instead, he struggled in their grip, utterly drained by sorrow.
“Gwen,” Merlin said as he strained against his captors' hold. “You don’t need to do this. I'm your friend.”
“Gwen, he’s right,” Leon said, trying to placate her.
“Take him away,” Gwen shouted.
A guard struck the back of Merlin’s head with a clenched fist. Merlin saw stars at first, then only darkness.
The next thing Merlin remembered was the cold stone floor numbing his cheek.
His head ached.
He quirked open an eye and immediately recognized where he lay. He was no stranger to the dungeon below the citadel. The dank cell into which he had been thrown reeked of the familiar smell of mildew and rotting vegetables. He had just spent a night here a few weeks earlier. Arthur came to his rescue then, demanding that he be freed, refusing to believe that Merlin would betray him. Merlin knew he had Arthur’s trust then, when Arthur released him from the dungeon himself. Merlin had rewarded his king with a bright sleepy smile as he left the stone bench that had made up his bed for the evening.
Merlin licked his lips, realizing how dry his mouth was. How long had he been in the dungeon, lying on the filthy floor?
He ached all over. His head throbbed, and it was obvious that the guards hadn’t been gentle when they threw him in his cell. His wrists were sore from the bruises he had caused to himself in his struggle to escape the men’s hold on him.
He could take inventory of his injuries later. His hand went instinctively to his pocket.
The Horn of Cathbhadh was gone.
Merlin let his head fall to the floor, disregarding the fresh pain that spread from the knot on his head. Bile rose in his throat. He tried to get onto his hands and knees to alleviate his sickness. As he clasped a hand across his mouth to keep from vomiting, his thumb brushed against the cold iron that encircled his neck.
He choked out a sob and clutched at the iron ring, the metal cool on his fingers. Gwen did this to him. Gwen had fancied him when he first came to Camelot, but now she wanted nothing to do with him. For all Merlin knew, she wanted him dead.
Shaking in absolute terror, he tested his magic. His eyes flashed gold for an instant before searing pain coursed down his spine making him arch off the cold stone floor.
“No!” he screamed, his eyes shut tight against the pain.
Without his magic, he had no hope of freeing himself from the dungeon. No hope of finding what had become of the horn. No hope of bringing Arthur back.
His body shook with sobs.
In the dim light of the dungeon, Merlin retched. He cried when he thought of what would happen if the Sidhe had healed Arthur. Arthur would be waiting for him at the lake, wondering why he hadn’t returned to him. He had failed Arthur in so many ways that led to his death, but he had been given a chance to revive him, to make things better, to get Arthur back alive and whole. But he had failed at the task of acquiring the magical horn, too.
Merlin crawled to the corner of the dank cell where he found a bucket of water, a thin and tattered blanket, and a hard lump of bread. He cupped his hand into the water and took a drink, splashing it onto his face. The water dripped down, soaking his neckerchief and dampening the front of his tunic.
He grabbed the metal rungs of his cell door and pulled himself to his feet.
“Guards!” he screamed, rattling the gate on its hinges. There was a faint hope that maybe the dungeon's guards would be sympathetic to him. Maybe they'd believe he had nothing to do with Arthur's death. Maybe they'd set him free.
He listened for a guard’s footsteps, but he heard nothing in the corridor outside.
“Guards!” he called again, but there was only silence.
He sadly remembered what Gaius had told him about the limited number of men Camelot had to guard the castle. How long would it be before someone came to speak to him? Would he never see sunlight again, except for a view from the gallows?
Merlin wrapped his arms around himself and paced back and forth in his cell.
“Arthur,” he whispered. He wanted nothing more than to feel Arthur's reassuring grip on his shoulder. The familiar embrace that had so often signalled the end of battle, no matter how simple or how devastatingly important.
“Gaius!” he shouted, pushing thoughts of Arthur’s touch out of his head.
When there was no answer, he strode to the back of the cell, turned and faced the cell entrance and whimpered, “Anyone?”
Frustrated with the silence, he kicked the loaf of bread toward the gate. Unsatisfied, he next kicked the water bucket, sending its contents splashing all over the stone floor.
He was about to kick the blanket too, but it became entangled in his boot. He struggled to free it when he heard Morforwyn's voice emerging slowly and calmly from the puddle of water that spread across the stone floor.
“Merlin?” the manatee asked, his voice wafting through the dungeon, echoing off the lonely walls.
“Morforwyn?” Merlin asked, kneeling to peer into the pool of water from which the manatee spoke.
“Merlin, I’m so glad to see you. I came because I knew something was wrong,” Morforwyn said.
“You knew? You knew that Gwen is furious with me and she put me in cold iron so I can't use my magic to hurt anyone, and the horn….” Merlin wailed, burying his face in his hands. When his thumbs touched the circle of iron around his neck, he punched at it furiously with both fists, bloodying his knuckles. “I lost the horn that would have brought Arthur back to life.”
Merlin cried, his pitiful moans filling the hollow space of the dungeon.
“Merlin, it's okay,” Morforwyn said gently.
Merlin just sobbed quietly at the sound of Morforwyn’s voice.
“Look at me,” Morforwyn said. “Look me in the eyes.”
Merlin leaned closer and glanced at the manatee, its head bobbing just below the surface of the spilled water, its chubby body surrounded by a calming blue light.
“What am I going to do?” Merlin sniffed. “It's Gwen-she blames me for Arthur's death. And she's angry that I never told her I had magic. She hates me.”
“No, Merlin, she doesn’t hate you. Gwen feels pretty awful right now. She lost her husband. She has the fate of the kingdom resting on her,” Morforwyn said, raising a flipper out of the water. “There are always going to be people in your life who need help. And while I think you should help them as best you can, that’s the key to it-as best you can. At the end of the day, you’re only a person. You can provide support and love, but you can’t change the way they feel. That’s up to them.”
Merlin reached toward Morforwyn and grasped his flipper. The firm sea-flesh felt cool under Merlin’s hand, solid and strong. The gently bobbing of Morforwyn’s head mesmerized Merlin. It slowed Merlin’s breathing when he let the blue light flow over his face and into the dank cell.
“Sometimes you’re going to reach a point where you can’t help anymore without hurting yourself. And when that happens, you have to step back and look after yourself too. You are your own first priority,” Morforwyn said, stroking Merlin’s bloody knuckles with his flipper.
Tears slipped down Merlin’s cheeks when he listened to Morforwyn’s words. For so long, he hadn’t made himself a priority at all. Everything he had done had been for Arthur, for the destiny the dragon assured him would result in a bright future for all of Albion. He had forgotten about himself so long ago-his plans for the future, his needs, his desires.
“But what can I do from here?” Merlin asked. “I can’t do anything to help myself. I'm trapped and I think that Gwen and her men are going kill me. I deserve their hatred for not being able to save Arthur. I’m worthless to them. I’m worthless to everyone.”
Morforwyn rested his head on Merlin’s knees.
“Merlin, I know that sometimes you don’t feel so good about you,” Morforwyn said. “So for those days, just like today, I want to remind you that you are smart, you are good, and you are far braver than you think. You are important. And you are my favourite person. You are incredible for all you do. If you could see yourself the way that I see you, you would understand why I love you so much.”
“That sounds a bit ridiculous coming from a sea creature,” Merlin said with a sniffle.
“It's the truth, and you know it,” Morforwyn said. “You need to believe it yourself, and others will believe it too. You'll see.”
It had been a long time since Merlin received praise for anything he had done. Besides Arthur thanking him with his last breath, he couldn't remember a time when he wasn’t being criticised by Gaius or the dragon. The manatee’s words made him feel more confident in himself. They made him feel valued, even though Arthur wasn't alive to prove Merlin's success at protecting him.
“I need to get back to the lake now to check on Arthur and see if the Sidhe can help him,” Morforwyn said. “Do you think you'll be okay?”
Merlin felt better, but not that much better. “Don't leave,” he said. “I need you to help me.”
“Everything is going to work out great,” Morforwyn said, his voice fading along with his image. “You are clever and you can do this. You are going to do great things.”
“But...” Merlin said. And Morforwyn faded into nothingness. Only the blue glow remained on the water. It swirled into a circle that grew ever smaller until it finally disappeared. One droplet of water splashed from the puddle and all evidence of Morforwyn's presence was gone.
Merlin got to his feet and squared his shoulders. It would be bad enough that he wouldn't be by the lakeside if Arthur returned, he didn't want Morforwyn to be gone too. If the Sidhe were able to work their magic on his king, Merlin would want a friendly face to greet Arthur when he emerged from the lake. If not him, the manatee would have to do.
Only moments after Morforwyn vanished, Merlin heard footsteps descending the stairs to the dungeon. He went to the metal gate, grasping the rungs with nervous hands. The cold iron weighed heavily on his neck, a reminder that he wouldn’t be able to rely on his old trick of using magic to dupe the guards.
“Guards?” Merlin shouted. He waited as the swiftly-approaching footsteps grew louder.
Merlin bit his lip and tried to think of something to do that would distract the guards long enough for him to escape, but without his magic, it was futile.
From the dark stairwell, the flash of a crimson Camelot cloak came into view.
“Leon?” Merlin asked with a gulp.
“Merlin, I came as soon as I could,” Leon said, nearly out of breath. He sorted through the jangling ring of keys he carried with him, finding the right one to unlock Merlin’s cell.
“But, Gwen,” Merlin said. “She put me here. She’ll be furious if you release me.”
Leon stopped twisting the key in the lock and raised an eyebrow toward Merlin. “Let me worry about Gwen,” he said.
“You know I tried to save Arthur,” Merlin said hurriedly while Leon worked. “We got to the lake and it was too late. Oh gods, how I wish I could have stopped Mordred in time.”
“I can only imagine how much you miss him,” Leon said as he withdrew the key and swung the cell door open.
“Leon, what is the meaning of this? Have you come to take me to the gallows? Is this what Gwen wants for me?” Merlin asked, trying to take Morforwyn’s words about his bravery to heart as Leon roughly grabbed him by the arm to drag him from the cell. He decided without much difficulty that he'd not crumple at the prospect of being hanged. If there was no way of getting to the lake with the Horn of Cathbhadh, he'd have no hope of bringing Arthur back. And a world without Arthur was something Merlin could not embrace. He'd boldly leave his life without regret, if Gwen's decision demanded his death. He proudly followed Leon beyond the threshold of the cell.
“She doesn’t mean what she says,” Leon said. “Being queen has been very hard on her.”
“This is not about being queen. She’s furious with me. You heard her. She thinks it’s my fault that Arthur is dead,” Merlin said.
“Let me see this,” Leon said, noticing the cold iron that encircled Merlin’s neck. He ran a finger along the iron band.
Merlin tilted his head back to give Leon a better look. Leon’s fingers worked swiftly trying to determine how the iron was fastened. He squinted his eyes narrow, his breath heavy on Merlin's neck.
“To think that I ever doubted it would work on me,” Merlin said. “It’s too painful for me to cast a spell as long as I’m wearing it.”
Leon nodded, his tongue poking out between his lips while he intently searched through the keys for one that might fit.
“I tried,” Merlin said.
“She’s a bit angry about the magic,” Leon said, choosing a key to try in the lock. “I’m surprised the guards were able to find the cold iron to restrain you so quickly.”
“Gaius wouldn’t have given it to her. As angry as he is with me, I know he doesn’t wish me that kind of harm,” Merlin said.
“No, I think Uther kept a collection of restraints in his chambers in case they were ever needed. Gwen must have told the guards where to find it,” Leon said as he tried yet another key.
“I shouldn’t have lied to her for all those years. She was my friend,” Merlin said as Leon slid the new key into the lock.
“She had been pleased when she found out you were with Arthur. She knew you’d put in a good effort to save him. She knows how you feel about him,” Leon said quietly. “And what his feelings were for you.”
Leon's words warmed Merlin. He was surprised that Gwen understood that Arthur had an appreciation for his manservant, when he usually did little else but tease and torment him daily. “I tried to save him,” Merlin said, “but my efforts weren't good enough.” The words died on Merlin's tongue when Morforwyn's assertions about Merlin’s incredible bravery and talent echoed back to him.
Maybe what Merlin had done for Arthur was enough? Maybe Merlin should feel proud that he had gotten Arthur as far as the lake? Maybe the Sidhe were working their magic on Arthur right now-they couldn't very well be healing him if Merlin hadn't at least gotten him to the lake.
“When Gwen learned of Arthur's death, she could only think of reigning as queen of Camelot-something she has dreamed of since she was a little girl,” Leon said thoughtfully as he worked on the lock.
Merlin remembered well the Gwen he met when he first came to Camelot. “She'll be a good queen, she cares about people so much,” Merlin said. “When she's like herself.”
“Yes, but as the queen, she's under a lot of pressure. You've seen what the stress of it all has made her do to you-a friend. I don't think she could have anticipated how much becoming queen would affect her. Do you know how it is when you finally get something that you've dreamed about for so long? When everything falls into place and it’s so much more than you thought it would be?” Leon asked, shaking his head as he worked. “Some people can’t handle it. It’s just too much. The decisions that have to be made are just too overwhelming.”
Merlin tried to apply Leon's observations to himself. He supposed he'd be relieved if he was able to return Arthur to life, but his heart sank when he considered the magnitude of the task and what it would mean if he were successful. Arthur knew about his magic now. No matter how badly he hoped that he and Arthur could continue their lives as manservant and a king- the king who would lead Camelot to glory and the king who would rule over all of Albion- it seemed unlikely that Merlin would ever polish Arthur's armour or shine Arthur's boots again. Some things would never be the same between them and the least significant of those would be the tending to Arthur’s appearance. Fear welled up inside Merlin when he realized how their relationship would change. Arthur had pleaded with Merlin to hold him, to comfort him when he died. He tamped down the memory of it quickly, while he still could rely on Leon's attention to his restraints.
“I can only wish that she will be successful in ruling the kingdom in Arthur’s absence,” Merlin said, straining to lean back to give Leon more room.
“It's changed her,” Leon said, grunting as he worked the key. “And she is no more happy about it than I am.”
With one more nudge of the key, the iron fell from Merlin's neck and clattered to the stone floor.
“Leon?” Merlin asked, his gaze drawn to the iron.
Leon's lips curled into a thin smile.
Merlin looked from the iron band to Leon's face. “You... and Gwen?” he asked.
Merlin could barely see in the dark dungeon, but he could swear that Leon's cheeks flushed red.
“Merlin…” Leon said, casting his eyes down to the broken ring of iron that lay on the cell floor.
“You’re more than friends?” Merlin asked, the realization finally dawning on him.
“There's no need to act so surprised, Merlin,” Leon stammered. “You, of all people might know the loneliness of Gwen's marriage bed. It seems the king is most at peace when he's off on a hunt with you. Any fool could see the shallowness of their relationship in the absence of an heir.”
Merlin’s head ached. Whether it was from Leon’s revelation or the blow from Camelot’s guard, he couldn't say. For all the years that Arthur and Gwen had been together, he always assumed they were blissfully happy. Not that he had a lot of experience with married couples for comparison. He had never known his own parents when they were together. Certainly Gwen and Arthur seemed distant from each other many times, but for all Merlin knew, every married couple behaved this way.
“Leon, I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “I truly didn’t know.”
“I won’t have the queen’s honour questioned, but let’s call it even. You and Arthur aren't the only pair in this castle who share an interest in poetry,” Leon said.
Leon’s words punched the air from Merlin’s lungs. Surely Leon didn’t believe that Arthur and Merlin were lovers? It was too much for Merlin to take in. Yes, he had sworn to protect Arthur for all the days of his life and yes, he loved him as much as any man could love a brother, a fellow warrior, a king, but Leon’s impression of the pair of them was so far from the truth-
“I found this,” Leon said, and from beneath his cloak he drew the Horn of Cathbhadh, the key to Arthur’s return.
“Leon,” Merlin said. “I need that. It was the reason I entered Arthur's chambers.”
“I figured as much,” Leon said. “It fell from your pocket when you were scuffling with the guards. I knew it was important to you.”
“If I may have it,” Merlin said. “It might be the key to bringing Arthur back.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. "There's no one with more investment in Arthur's return than you, but it's important for all of us."
Merlin reached for the horn and took it from Leon’s hand.
“I can’t make any promises,” Merlin said. “But this is our best hope for restoring Arthur to life.”
“It has to work, Merlin. The Saxons are gathering their troops even as we speak and I fear that they have new allies in their quest to overtake Camelot,” Leon said.
“You think the Saxons are waiting to attack, and adding to their strength while Camelot sleeps,” Merlin said. “I sense it too.”
“They know that Camelot’s forces have been weakened by the battle against Morgana and her armies,” Leon said. “Gwen… she means well.”
“I know,” Merlin said. “The threat of war with the Saxons would be too much for most men to handle. No one expects Gwen to be able to-”
“She’s a strong woman, Merlin,” Leon said.
“I know she is,” Merlin said, gripping Leon’s arm in reassurance. “No one doubts her ability or her competence. Under normal circumstances, she’d be a great leader. But you? What is your involvement with her? If she loves you, why is she so angry with me?”
“I think she sees your failure to save Arthur’s life as the incident that put her in this position,” Leon said.
“She could have just happily continued living with Arthur for the rest of her life, until I made the mistake of not getting him to the Sidhe in time,” Merlin said. “I think I understand.”
Leon nodded slowly. “Arthur… this is his kingdom through and through. I can’t bear to see it die because of Gwen’s indecision and inexperience, no matter how much I admire her. And if Arthur's allies take up sides with the Saxons, in hopes of receiving a share of Camelot's lands-”
“Arthur’s allies… they already doubt the power of the kingdom Arthur built? His body is barely cold,” Merlin said.
“I fear that they don’t hold Gwen in the same esteem that they held Arthur. Arthur is of noble birth. Gwen would never be able to command the respect of Camelot’s allies. The old guard of Uther’s day will always see her as nothing but a serving girl turned queen,” Leon said. “Arthur’s allies, Rodor, Olaf, Annis… they have only recently sworn their loyalty to Arthur. How long will their new alliance last when Camelot dangles like sweet fruit ready for the plucking?”
“There are worse threats than those from the families of Mithian and Vivian,” Merlin said. “What of the Sarrum of Amata? Those monsters would attack their own mothers if given the chance.”
“Arthur’s enemies will grow, when he can’t keep them in check,” Leon said. “They plot to divide Camelot and share the spoils among themselves.”
“We can't let that happen. It's everything Arthur worked for,” Merlin said.
“If you have a solution, you need to follow through with it,” Leon said.
Merlin gripped the horn tightly in his hand. “I think I can bring Arthur back,” he said.
“Then you must do it,” Leon said. “Go. For the sake of all of us, go. Arthur would want you to go to him, I know he would.”
“Thank you, Leon,” Merlin said, meaning it with all of his heart.
Merlin headed for the stairs with Leon. As they climbed, Merlin realized that he had been knocked out for most of the morning. He tentatively touched the knot on the back of his head. It felt tender and swollen, but he didn’t feel any dried blood.
The sun was high when they reached the gate to the courtyard. Merlin could feel its warmth, even though it barely burned through the grey overcast of midday. Merlin trusted that Leon would shield him from any passers-by who wanted to do him harm. He followed the red billowing cloak that distinguished Leon as a knight of Camelot, arriving in the stables without attracting anyone’s notice.
“I can’t leave Camelot to go with you,” Leon said. “And there are few horses to spare after what happened at Camlann.”
“I can go on foot, but it will take me longer. I won’t reach the lake until tomorrow,” Merlin said.
“Saddle Dunraven for me,” Leon told the stableboy, after choosing a sturdy bay from its stall.
“I can take you as far as the Ealdor crossroads,” Leon said. “That ought to give you a good start. You’ll make it to the lake at Avalon by sunset if we hurry.”
Merlin sighed with relief at Leon’s willingness to help him.
“The guards are back on duty,” Merlin said as he stood at the stable door, watching the changing of the patrol in the courtyard. He recognized a few of the younger guards and wondered how many old faces had been lost to battle in the past week.
“Only Gwen herself could give the order to stop you now,” Leon said, scanning the newly-arrived guards in the courtyard. “And I’ll see to her if she tries to make that happen.”
“Thank you. I hope she won’t be angry for your absence this afternoon,” Merlin said, turning to stroke Dunraven’s nose. “She needs you.”
Leon nodded and gave the saddle a tug. “You have the horn?” he asked.
Merlin patted his jacket pocket and said, “I’ll get it to Arthur safely, with your help. And, Leon, he’d be proud that he selected you as the leader of his knights.”
Leon mounted Dunraven and gave Merlin a hand to haul him onto the horse’s back. With a nudge of his heels, Leon urged the horse forward, Dunraven’s hooves clattering across the courtyard. Together the men rode from the citadel, leaving Camelot without raising any alarm among the guards.
The early afternoon passed too slowly for Merlin’s liking. The beat of galloping hooves beneath them never seemed to be taking them across the land fast enough. Whether it was the long stretch of road that seemed to span endlessly before them or the incomprehensible thought that Gwen had taken a liking to Leon while Arthur still shared their marriage bed, Merlin’s mind was in turmoil.
Merlin had always thought of Leon as a fine man. His loyalty to Arthur had never come into question. He’d even been known to ignore Merlin’s well-being if paying attention to his distress meant abandoning a quest or disobeying Arthur’s word. Gwen was fortunate to have someone as dedicated as Leon to help her after Arthur’s death. Although Merlin had never worried himself about the stability of Arthur and Gwen’s marriage before, now that it had been brought to his attention, he became even more concerned about what would happen to Leon and Gwen if he successfully returned Arthur to life.
Would Gwen continue to carry on with Leon? Would Arthur be crushed to learn that Gwen had so easily moved on from his death to find a new mate? Arthur was beside himself in anguish when Gwen chose Lancelot over him all those years ago. How would Merlin comfort Arthur, if he were able to bring him back to life and if he found it necessary to shed light on the new happenings in Camelot? He hoped that Arthur would listen to him without blame, despite the difficult news he’d have of the days that passed since he entrusted him into the care of the Sidhe.
On Leon and Merlin rode into the late afternoon, with Merlin curling his fingers under the back of the saddle to attain a secure grip. He occasionally shifted in his seat to take hold of Leon’s shoulders, as they’d engage in conversation about how many men had been lost in the battle, how sad they both were about what happened to Gwaine, and whether Leon thought Gwen might ever see fit to lift the ban on magic in Camelot. The conversation regarding magic was too much for Merlin to think about. He half expected Leon to ask if Merlin could turn him into a toad, such was the knight’s new understanding of Merlin’s powers.
When Merlin’s thighs burned so much that he thought he couldn’t ride any longer, he recognized the last stretch of road on their way to the intersection with the road to Ealdor. Leon unexpectedly slowed Dunraven to a halt and motioned for Merlin to keep quiet. Ahead, on the road, Merlin could see a bustle of activity taking place. There seemed to be some sort of meeting in progress at the intersection. Merlin could make out the men in Saxon garb as Leon urged Dunraven into the brush at the side of the road.
“I can keep us hidden,” Merlin said, assuring Leon that he could keep them safe.
“I had nearly forgotten,” Leon said, although Merlin wasn’t sure whether he truly believed him, but there was no time to doubt Leon’s sincerity. Merlin shepherded both Leon and Dunraven into the dense stand of trees, whispering a spell to keep them hidden from the Saxon's view. When they were secure, Merlin tethered Dunraven to a tree and crept through the forest with Leon to where they could get a better view of the action at the crossroads as it unfolded.
Ahead, on the road, the Saxon warriors stood guard over a meeting between enemies. Merlin recognized Cerdic, the Saxon king, his pewter crown heavy upon his head as he spit through the matted length of his beard, a sword ready in his hand. Across from him stood a familiar visitor to Camelot. Merlin recognized King Godwyn’s emissary from the time he accompanied the king to Camelot in years past with Princess Elena. Merlin worried that the situation with Camelot's allies was just as Leon had told him it would be. Arthur’s former allies had ridden through the realm to ally with the Saxons, all part of their plan to claim a slice of Camelot for their own.
If King Godwyn had sent a party to negotiate with the Saxons, how many had come before them?
And how many would come after?
Elena’s father couldn’t be blamed for wanting a portion of Camelot to add to his own kingdom. After all, Arthur had rejected Elena’s hand in marriage all those years ago. She had yet to marry, as far as Merlin knew. The bad blood between the families had probably weighed heavily on King Godwyn’s mind for years. The anger was not enough to go to war over, but enough to make a father take the Saxon’s side-with Arthur dead and Elena’s rival wearing the crown of Camelot.
“Love,” Leon said, a wistful look in his eyes.
“Love?” Merlin asked, confused by the interruption of his thoughts about impending war.
“I understand now the things that one will do for love. How many princesses had been rejected by our own Princess before he married Gwen?” Leon asked.
Merlin felt a pang of sorrow for Gwaine whose taunts had so easily become part of the language of knights. “Gwaine,” he said with affection, giving Leon a half-hearted smile.
“You see what I mean, though,” Leon said. “It's no surprise to me that the fathers of the shunned princesses are out for Gwen's blood. They have no alliance with her.”
“But you... and Gwen,” Merlin said. “You fear you’ll lose her if Arthur returns.”
“Sometimes, a man needs to do what he feels is right, no matter the consequences he may suffer. If you can bring Arthur back, it would be enough to keep peace in Camelot and in all the realm,” Leon said.
Merlin watched Leon's lips go thin. Of course bringing Arthur back might ruin a future Leon had planned with Gwen. But to fail could mean the dissolution of the Camelot he had worked so hard to defend.
“I never underestimated Arthur’s power to unify the kingdom,” Merlin said. “I assure you, if I can bring him back to life if I get to the lake, he'll do what's right.”
“I fear that Godwyn won’t be the first of Arthur’s allies to turn against him in death,” Leon said as he gazed down the road at the Saxons. “Even if he does return, we may not have enough men to defeat the Saxons and their new allies.”
Merlin nodded in agreement. It made sense that the allies Arthur had made would not uphold their agreements with Gwen in charge, especially if she was perceived to be as unstable as Gaius had insinuated. The threat of Camelot’s demise strengthened Merlin’s resolve to return to the lake and to summon Arthur with the horn. If there was ever any doubt in his mind about whether it was the right thing to do, it was allayed by the appearance of Godwyn’s emissary. He had to get to the lake, and quickly.
“Thank you for bringing me this far,” Merlin said, after they invisibly watched Cerdic and his army of men disband and ride off in their opposite directions.
With a whispered spell, he made Leon and Dunraven visible again.
“Godspeed to you, Merlin,” Leon said. “I wish you luck in your task. I sincerely mean that. For Gwen's sake... for all our sakes.”
Merlin clasped Leon’s arm as a sign of their brotherhood. Merlin recognized the waver in Leon’s voice and only could imagine what boldness of spirit it took for him to wish earnestly for Arthur’s return. What Arthur's return might mean to Leon and his love for Gwen, Merlin could only imagine.
Merlin hoped that Leon would tell Gwen about their discovery of the Saxon's new allies. Perhaps it would spur her to defend the kingdom, but Merlin feared that it would already be too late.
Camelot’s forces were brutally weakened by Morgana’s war, and Godwyn’s men simply sought to finish the job. If Godwyn was here already negotiating with the Saxons, would Annis and Rodor be far behind? And what of King Olaf and the other lords of the land whose daughter’s hands in marriage hadn’t been joined with Arthur’s in marriage? If love was a reason enough to engage in this negotiation of dividing Camelot’s lands, then what other shunned families who had sought Arthur as a suitor would follow?
Merlin watched Leon ride down the road toward Camelot. He was an honourable man and Merlin wished with all his might that he could help Gwen to see what was coming next. He regretted that there was nothing further that he could do to help Leon in his dealings with Gwen, but he had a challenge of his own to face. Merlin touched his pocket where the horn was safely stowed away. He pressed gently with his fingers, feeling its outline, a surge of hope for Arthur’s return welling in his chest. If he hurried, he’d be at the lake by sunset.
Merlin set off down the road to Avalon, its surface scarred by a dual track of wagon wheels left by travellers who had made the journey across the kingdom. His head throbbed with every step, the blood pounding through the achy bump he received from Camelot’s guard.
He put the pain out of his mind as he walked. He’d have to suffer far worse agony than the twinge in his head to keep him from the lakeside, to keep him from Arthur, his king. He had sworn that he would protect Arthur, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. And he was willing to do just that this time, just like every other time. He had sworn it to Arthur, and that promise he made as they stood on the doorstep of a great battle became his duty that day and every day after.
What if Arthur became cross with him for stealing the horn from his chambers?
The thought of Arthur’s surly tone made Merlin smile. “Merlin,” he’d say,< i>“only an idiot would allow himself to be thrown into the dungeon by a… girl!”
Leave it to Arthur to be an insufferable prat, even after Merlin brought him back from the dead. Merlin dwelled on the thought, the memory of Arthur’s voice wafting through the corners of his mind. He turned over each memory of it as he strode past trees and boulders, each step bringing him closer to his goal. He wrapped his thoughts around the velvet sound of Arthur's words as the road curled through the countryside, over rolling hills and through the dark hidden places of the forest, no Saxons in sight and no plan for what to do with them if they did start an altercation with him. Arthur’s voice swam through his head, as if it were only yesterday that he last heard the cherished sound. Sometimes the voice chided him for being a terribly inefficient servant, but sometimes the voice sounded so warm and tender that Merlin could barely bring himself to consider that he might never hear it again.
Merlin shook off the sorrowful thought. Instead, he remembered Morforwyn and his insistence that Merlin would succeed at bringing Arthur back. He increased the length of his stride across the damp roadway, thinking all the while of what it would be like to have Arthur by his side again. In all Merlin's life he had known no other purpose but to protect Arthur from harm. Something about it felt right as he walked faster. The broken pieces of his universe were sliding back into their proper place. It soothed him like the comfort of sending magic from his fingertips after needing to restrain it for a long period of time.
Around the next bend in the road, Merlin made his way closer and closer to Avalon. Merlin hoped that Arthur wouldn’t be angry with Leon, or with Gwen. Leon could hardly be blamed for wanting to help Gwen in the tragedy of Arthur’s death. And Gwen, she had little experience in running a kingdom. Together they didn't have much of a chance in upholding Arthur's legacy. It was a great comfort to Merlin that at least the pair could find some solace in each other after Arthur's death. It would serve them well in case Merlin wasn’t successful with the Horn of Cathbhadh that weighed both heavily in his pocket and on his mind.
Merlin suspected Leon hadn’t had much opportunity to forge a relationship with a girl in Camelot. Who had time for a girl, anyway, Merlin wondered. Arthur barely had time for Gwen, and she was his wife. Merlin knew that he himself hadn’t found time or opportunity to be with anyone. He remembered the time when an enchanted Gwen had told Arthur that Merlin had a girl he was meeting. It disturbed him how easily Gwen had lied about it when the thought of it was ludicrous to him. No, he hadn’t been able to think about giving his heart to another since Freya’s death. Not when his days were filled with serving Arthur, with protecting him from harm, with ensuring he would become a great king.
Faster and faster, Merlin walked, practically ran across the hills that led to Avalon. At the forefront of his mind was the purpose of his journey, to bring Arthur back, to return to the life he knew before the war with Morgana took over their lives, before Mordred dealt Arthur his fatal blow. Back to the time when everything about Arthur filled Merlin’s days. Merlin would tend Arthur’s needs from dawn to dusk. They made an odd pair, Merlin supposed-a great king and his manservant who possessed magical powers that his highness could know nothing about. Somehow, it worked for them to share their lives-the sorrow of losing their fathers, the exhilaration of a battle won, the affection they shared for each other in times of strife as well as in jubilation.
Indeed, Merlin’s most joyous memories were the times he spent in deep confidence with Arthur, both of them working toward the same goal. Their enemies were shared in times of danger, just as in times of happiness Merlin shared in Arthur’s joy-when he became king, when he embraced Merlin finding him alive, when he caught Merlin’s eye from across a smoky campfire. Despite the threat of an insurmountable battle, the blue of Arthur’s eyes filled Merlin to the brim with a happiness that Merlin knew not how to put into words.
Over the rolling hills, the narrow tract worn to dust by hooves, Merlin glimpsed the tower that rose from the island where he had last left his king’s side. A breathless laugh escaped his chest, the thrill of arriving on the shore so he could use the horn suffused him with a joy that he had nearly forgotten in the days that passed without his king.
Being with Arthur was a sacred joy, the only joy Merlin ever allowed himself in Camelot. Sometimes when he lay awake in his narrow bed at night, he’d replay the events of the day, the roughhousing, the secret looks, the casual melting of boundaries between servant and king. He remembered those feelings now, and they came back with even more force than they had when Arthur was alive.
Merlin could hide these feelings that Arthur stirred in him with much more ease than he could his magic. The magic took more of his time to conceal, more of his effort, so the tender feelings of Merlin’s heart stayed buried deep within him.
But now, with his magic revealed as Arthur’s heart beat through its final days, the tension of keeping Merlin’s secret was released. He could relax for the first time, even though he knew Arthur may soon die. The moments of freedom were addictive, dizzying, and he yearned to experience them again.
What would it be like to laugh with Arthur now? To be free of his secret of magic with Arthur healthy and whole? Not for the first time, Merlin imagined Arthur’s lips curled into a smile, Arthur’s hot breath on his neck, Arthur’s hands on him as he came undone, something previously unattainable that suddenly seemed within reach.
Just over the next hill.
He ran to the lake, his boots splattering mud onto his breeches. Slipping through the grass, he dropped to his knees, the wetness staining them black. He wrestled the horn from his pocket, put it to his lips and blew.
~ ~ ~
Author: gwylliondream
Genre: Canon era
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Words: 53,589
Author's notes: Swimming with the Sidhe was written for paperlegends and as a kinkme_merlin fill for this prompt.
Disclaimer: All Arthurian characters are the property of BBC/Shine and their creators. The Calming Manatee and most of its words belong to HT (the Human Typist) of the Calming Manatee meme.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime! Thanks so much for reading!
Merlin had entered Arthur's chambers nearly every day for the past ten years. He took a deep breath outside the heavy wooden door behind which they had huddled countless times. In the past, they had always managed to escape their enemies, whether magical or human. It felt strange to be here without his partner in protecting Camelot.
Merlin wrapped his fingers around the cool metal latch, a familiar shape that fit precisely into the palm of his hand. The feel of it made him ache for the return of his king so that their lives could resume as normal. He closed his eyes and made a promise to all the gods that he would do everything in his power to help Arthur to continue his reign as a noble king, if only they would see fit to return Arthur to him.
Merlin whispered an enchantment so the latch rose silently. The door swung open slowly on its hinges, the creaking muffled by Merlin’s spell. To Merlin's surprise, the bed was empty. He had fully expected to find Gwen there, asleep in her grief, but this discovery made his job easier.
He strode to Arthur's side of the bed and tried the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet. You couldn't be the king's manservant for a decade without learning where he kept his secret possessions. The knob turned easily in Merlin's hand. He tugged the handle, opened the drawer, and bit his lip when he realized it was empty.
His hopes were dashed. Where could Arthur have hidden the horn, if not here? Could it still be somewhere in Gaius’s workshop? Did Arthur have another hiding place that Merlin didn’t know about? Was Gaius telling the truth when he told Merlin that he couldn’t help him?
Morforwyn came to Merlin’s mind. The sea creature had been so encouraging, so calming, Merlin knew he couldn’t give up his quest for the horn now. No, Merlin deemed this mistake about the horn’s location as a temporary inconvenience.
“Just a minor setback,” he whispered to himself with a nod, remembering how the sea creature encouraged him to go after the horn. “It’s here somewhere.”
He looked around the room. The scant moonlight washed the furniture in a dim glow that barely allowed him to distinguish it from the open space. A desk here, a table there, a chair he remembered storing away in Morgana’s old room a few weeks ago. Gwen must have had it brought to the king’s bedchamber. Who knew what other changes Gwen would bring upon the royal household? She’d be a much different ruler than Arthur in some ways, although they shared the same hopes for the success of Camelot.
Merlin tried to remember what had transpired a week ago when Arthur prepared to leave for Camlann, as if it would give some clue as to what Arthur had done with the horn after he and Merlin had returned from the Great Stones of Nemeton. It wasn‘t that long ago. He checked the washstand, the desk, the wooden bowl that decorated the table by the window.
While he was busy searching, he felt a pang of sorrow when he remembered the look on Arthur's face that night when he last visited this room. Having lost his magic, he had to tell Arthur that he wouldn't be joining him on that final journey into battle. Arthur's disappointment in him was palpable. It made Merlin wince to remember that Arthur had thought he was a coward, even after all that had passed between them since that night.
If he found the Horn of Cathbhadh and brought Arthur back, he swore he'd never do anything to disappoint Arthur again.
Merlin checked the pile of discarded clothing that littered the floor behind Arthur's dressing screen, although he doubted Arthur would have kept the horn tucked away in his pocket as he went about the business of running the kingdom. He sifted through the garments, feeling for the shape of the horn. He grinned when he pulled a half-eaten fig from Arthur’s pocket, along with a handful of almonds that Merlin knew Arthur sucked on to pass time during the council meetings. There were few things about Arthur that Merlin didn’t know about.
Behind the dressing screen stood a chest of drawers that Merlin had seldom had reason to explore. The top drawer contained some scraps of parchment with scribbled notes in Arthur’s hand. It was too dark for Merlin to make out whether the words were important or not. He quickly moved on to the middle drawer, where a half dozen tournament medals from Arthur’s youth were stored. He knelt on the floor and tried the bottom drawer. He slid it open and there it was, exactly as he remembered it from when old woman had given it to Arthur in thanks for saving her from the pyre.
He lifted the horn from its hiding place and closed the drawer. Tiptoeing toward the door, he shoved the horn into his jacket pocket. When he reached for the latch, the door burst open.
“Merlin!” Leon said as his torch illuminated the room, casting light onto the furnishings, the untouched bedding, and Merlin’s face. “It's you!” Gwen stood at Leon’s side, looking none too pleased.
“Leon?” Merlin asked, shielding his eyes from the light.
Gwen clutched her fists to her chest. “Guards!” she called.
It all happened so fast.
“No, Gwen,” Merlin said. “It’s me, Merlin… your friend.”
Merlin cursed himself for not thinking about what he would say to Gwen in this moment. Now there was no time to plan.
“Gwen, I’m so sorry,” Merlin said the first thing that came to his mind-the first thing he thought Gwen would need to hear.
Gwen took three steps forward, raised her hand, and slapped Merlin across his face.
“Gwen, no,” Leon said, taking her hand and drawing her away. “No, you mustn't let him upset you.”
Instinctively, Merlin touched his cheek. The harsh slap didn’t hurt much physically, but it hurt Merlin’s heart to know that Gwen was so angry with him, to know that she'd never be able to forgive him for his failure to protect Arthur.
“Friend?” Gwen asked, her chest heaving with anger. “Arthur thought you were his friend.”
“I was with him, Gwen,” Merlin said, tears welling in his eyes. “I tried to save him. I did everything I could.”
Merlin felt horrible about insisting he had done everything he could, knowing the mistakes he had made, particularly calling Kilgharrah too late to save Arthur.
“Did you use your sorcery to try to save him?” Gwen spat out.
“Gwen,” Merlin said. “Please believe me. I’d never do anything to hurt Arthur or you.”
Outside the door a pair of Camelot’s guards arrived, but Leon stopped their progress with a raised hand.
“You’d never hurt him?” Gwen cried. “To think that I was pleased when Gaius told me that you were the sorcerer who intervened on Arthur’s behalf when his army was fighting the Saxons. What good was your magic when my husband drew his last breath? Did you even think to tell him you had magic that could save him? Did you never think to tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Gwen,” Merlin said, wiping the fresh tears from his eyes. “I should have told you. You were my friend and I should have told you I had magic. You deserved to know.”
“But you didn't tell me! And you didn't use your power to save Arthur,” Gwen shouted, her eyes wild.
Leon, to his credit, tried to console Gwen by standing behind her and sliding his hands down her arms. The robe that covered her night dress fluttered with the motion of Leon's hands.
“Gwen, you don't understand-” Merlin said. He had never seen Gwen behave in this way before. Certainly, he had walked in on his share of rows between Gwen and Arthur over the years, but Gwen had always graciously excused herself before Merlin could blush with embarrassment over catching her and Arthur at a difficult moment. But this, this was something different. He had never seen her so furious.
“Understand this. Magic is still illegal in Camelot, Merlin,” Gwen said.
Gwen’s voice had taken on a sinister tone, one that Merlin never imagined could come from Gwen, not even when she was bespelled by Morgana.
“Gwen, please...” Merlin said. If only he could make her understand that he too was devastated by Arthur’s death and that he’d do anything to get him back.
“Guards!” Gwen cried. “Throw him in the dungeon, and use the cold iron restraints.”
Before Merlin could protest, two burly guards rushed past Leon and seized Merlin by his arms. In hindsight, Merlin should have used his magic to escape them. Instead, he struggled in their grip, utterly drained by sorrow.
“Gwen,” Merlin said as he strained against his captors' hold. “You don’t need to do this. I'm your friend.”
“Gwen, he’s right,” Leon said, trying to placate her.
“Take him away,” Gwen shouted.
A guard struck the back of Merlin’s head with a clenched fist. Merlin saw stars at first, then only darkness.
The next thing Merlin remembered was the cold stone floor numbing his cheek.
His head ached.
He quirked open an eye and immediately recognized where he lay. He was no stranger to the dungeon below the citadel. The dank cell into which he had been thrown reeked of the familiar smell of mildew and rotting vegetables. He had just spent a night here a few weeks earlier. Arthur came to his rescue then, demanding that he be freed, refusing to believe that Merlin would betray him. Merlin knew he had Arthur’s trust then, when Arthur released him from the dungeon himself. Merlin had rewarded his king with a bright sleepy smile as he left the stone bench that had made up his bed for the evening.
Merlin licked his lips, realizing how dry his mouth was. How long had he been in the dungeon, lying on the filthy floor?
He ached all over. His head throbbed, and it was obvious that the guards hadn’t been gentle when they threw him in his cell. His wrists were sore from the bruises he had caused to himself in his struggle to escape the men’s hold on him.
He could take inventory of his injuries later. His hand went instinctively to his pocket.
The Horn of Cathbhadh was gone.
Merlin let his head fall to the floor, disregarding the fresh pain that spread from the knot on his head. Bile rose in his throat. He tried to get onto his hands and knees to alleviate his sickness. As he clasped a hand across his mouth to keep from vomiting, his thumb brushed against the cold iron that encircled his neck.
He choked out a sob and clutched at the iron ring, the metal cool on his fingers. Gwen did this to him. Gwen had fancied him when he first came to Camelot, but now she wanted nothing to do with him. For all Merlin knew, she wanted him dead.
Shaking in absolute terror, he tested his magic. His eyes flashed gold for an instant before searing pain coursed down his spine making him arch off the cold stone floor.
“No!” he screamed, his eyes shut tight against the pain.
Without his magic, he had no hope of freeing himself from the dungeon. No hope of finding what had become of the horn. No hope of bringing Arthur back.
His body shook with sobs.
In the dim light of the dungeon, Merlin retched. He cried when he thought of what would happen if the Sidhe had healed Arthur. Arthur would be waiting for him at the lake, wondering why he hadn’t returned to him. He had failed Arthur in so many ways that led to his death, but he had been given a chance to revive him, to make things better, to get Arthur back alive and whole. But he had failed at the task of acquiring the magical horn, too.
Merlin crawled to the corner of the dank cell where he found a bucket of water, a thin and tattered blanket, and a hard lump of bread. He cupped his hand into the water and took a drink, splashing it onto his face. The water dripped down, soaking his neckerchief and dampening the front of his tunic.
He grabbed the metal rungs of his cell door and pulled himself to his feet.
“Guards!” he screamed, rattling the gate on its hinges. There was a faint hope that maybe the dungeon's guards would be sympathetic to him. Maybe they'd believe he had nothing to do with Arthur's death. Maybe they'd set him free.
He listened for a guard’s footsteps, but he heard nothing in the corridor outside.
“Guards!” he called again, but there was only silence.
He sadly remembered what Gaius had told him about the limited number of men Camelot had to guard the castle. How long would it be before someone came to speak to him? Would he never see sunlight again, except for a view from the gallows?
Merlin wrapped his arms around himself and paced back and forth in his cell.
“Arthur,” he whispered. He wanted nothing more than to feel Arthur's reassuring grip on his shoulder. The familiar embrace that had so often signalled the end of battle, no matter how simple or how devastatingly important.
“Gaius!” he shouted, pushing thoughts of Arthur’s touch out of his head.
When there was no answer, he strode to the back of the cell, turned and faced the cell entrance and whimpered, “Anyone?”
Frustrated with the silence, he kicked the loaf of bread toward the gate. Unsatisfied, he next kicked the water bucket, sending its contents splashing all over the stone floor.
He was about to kick the blanket too, but it became entangled in his boot. He struggled to free it when he heard Morforwyn's voice emerging slowly and calmly from the puddle of water that spread across the stone floor.
“Merlin?” the manatee asked, his voice wafting through the dungeon, echoing off the lonely walls.
“Morforwyn?” Merlin asked, kneeling to peer into the pool of water from which the manatee spoke.
“Merlin, I’m so glad to see you. I came because I knew something was wrong,” Morforwyn said.
“You knew? You knew that Gwen is furious with me and she put me in cold iron so I can't use my magic to hurt anyone, and the horn….” Merlin wailed, burying his face in his hands. When his thumbs touched the circle of iron around his neck, he punched at it furiously with both fists, bloodying his knuckles. “I lost the horn that would have brought Arthur back to life.”
Merlin cried, his pitiful moans filling the hollow space of the dungeon.
“Merlin, it's okay,” Morforwyn said gently.
Merlin just sobbed quietly at the sound of Morforwyn’s voice.
“Look at me,” Morforwyn said. “Look me in the eyes.”
Merlin leaned closer and glanced at the manatee, its head bobbing just below the surface of the spilled water, its chubby body surrounded by a calming blue light.
“What am I going to do?” Merlin sniffed. “It's Gwen-she blames me for Arthur's death. And she's angry that I never told her I had magic. She hates me.”
“No, Merlin, she doesn’t hate you. Gwen feels pretty awful right now. She lost her husband. She has the fate of the kingdom resting on her,” Morforwyn said, raising a flipper out of the water. “There are always going to be people in your life who need help. And while I think you should help them as best you can, that’s the key to it-as best you can. At the end of the day, you’re only a person. You can provide support and love, but you can’t change the way they feel. That’s up to them.”
Merlin reached toward Morforwyn and grasped his flipper. The firm sea-flesh felt cool under Merlin’s hand, solid and strong. The gently bobbing of Morforwyn’s head mesmerized Merlin. It slowed Merlin’s breathing when he let the blue light flow over his face and into the dank cell.
“Sometimes you’re going to reach a point where you can’t help anymore without hurting yourself. And when that happens, you have to step back and look after yourself too. You are your own first priority,” Morforwyn said, stroking Merlin’s bloody knuckles with his flipper.
Tears slipped down Merlin’s cheeks when he listened to Morforwyn’s words. For so long, he hadn’t made himself a priority at all. Everything he had done had been for Arthur, for the destiny the dragon assured him would result in a bright future for all of Albion. He had forgotten about himself so long ago-his plans for the future, his needs, his desires.
“But what can I do from here?” Merlin asked. “I can’t do anything to help myself. I'm trapped and I think that Gwen and her men are going kill me. I deserve their hatred for not being able to save Arthur. I’m worthless to them. I’m worthless to everyone.”
Morforwyn rested his head on Merlin’s knees.
“Merlin, I know that sometimes you don’t feel so good about you,” Morforwyn said. “So for those days, just like today, I want to remind you that you are smart, you are good, and you are far braver than you think. You are important. And you are my favourite person. You are incredible for all you do. If you could see yourself the way that I see you, you would understand why I love you so much.”
“That sounds a bit ridiculous coming from a sea creature,” Merlin said with a sniffle.
“It's the truth, and you know it,” Morforwyn said. “You need to believe it yourself, and others will believe it too. You'll see.”
It had been a long time since Merlin received praise for anything he had done. Besides Arthur thanking him with his last breath, he couldn't remember a time when he wasn’t being criticised by Gaius or the dragon. The manatee’s words made him feel more confident in himself. They made him feel valued, even though Arthur wasn't alive to prove Merlin's success at protecting him.
“I need to get back to the lake now to check on Arthur and see if the Sidhe can help him,” Morforwyn said. “Do you think you'll be okay?”
Merlin felt better, but not that much better. “Don't leave,” he said. “I need you to help me.”
“Everything is going to work out great,” Morforwyn said, his voice fading along with his image. “You are clever and you can do this. You are going to do great things.”
“But...” Merlin said. And Morforwyn faded into nothingness. Only the blue glow remained on the water. It swirled into a circle that grew ever smaller until it finally disappeared. One droplet of water splashed from the puddle and all evidence of Morforwyn's presence was gone.
Merlin got to his feet and squared his shoulders. It would be bad enough that he wouldn't be by the lakeside if Arthur returned, he didn't want Morforwyn to be gone too. If the Sidhe were able to work their magic on his king, Merlin would want a friendly face to greet Arthur when he emerged from the lake. If not him, the manatee would have to do.
Only moments after Morforwyn vanished, Merlin heard footsteps descending the stairs to the dungeon. He went to the metal gate, grasping the rungs with nervous hands. The cold iron weighed heavily on his neck, a reminder that he wouldn’t be able to rely on his old trick of using magic to dupe the guards.
“Guards?” Merlin shouted. He waited as the swiftly-approaching footsteps grew louder.
Merlin bit his lip and tried to think of something to do that would distract the guards long enough for him to escape, but without his magic, it was futile.
From the dark stairwell, the flash of a crimson Camelot cloak came into view.
“Leon?” Merlin asked with a gulp.
“Merlin, I came as soon as I could,” Leon said, nearly out of breath. He sorted through the jangling ring of keys he carried with him, finding the right one to unlock Merlin’s cell.
“But, Gwen,” Merlin said. “She put me here. She’ll be furious if you release me.”
Leon stopped twisting the key in the lock and raised an eyebrow toward Merlin. “Let me worry about Gwen,” he said.
“You know I tried to save Arthur,” Merlin said hurriedly while Leon worked. “We got to the lake and it was too late. Oh gods, how I wish I could have stopped Mordred in time.”
“I can only imagine how much you miss him,” Leon said as he withdrew the key and swung the cell door open.
“Leon, what is the meaning of this? Have you come to take me to the gallows? Is this what Gwen wants for me?” Merlin asked, trying to take Morforwyn’s words about his bravery to heart as Leon roughly grabbed him by the arm to drag him from the cell. He decided without much difficulty that he'd not crumple at the prospect of being hanged. If there was no way of getting to the lake with the Horn of Cathbhadh, he'd have no hope of bringing Arthur back. And a world without Arthur was something Merlin could not embrace. He'd boldly leave his life without regret, if Gwen's decision demanded his death. He proudly followed Leon beyond the threshold of the cell.
“She doesn’t mean what she says,” Leon said. “Being queen has been very hard on her.”
“This is not about being queen. She’s furious with me. You heard her. She thinks it’s my fault that Arthur is dead,” Merlin said.
“Let me see this,” Leon said, noticing the cold iron that encircled Merlin’s neck. He ran a finger along the iron band.
Merlin tilted his head back to give Leon a better look. Leon’s fingers worked swiftly trying to determine how the iron was fastened. He squinted his eyes narrow, his breath heavy on Merlin's neck.
“To think that I ever doubted it would work on me,” Merlin said. “It’s too painful for me to cast a spell as long as I’m wearing it.”
Leon nodded, his tongue poking out between his lips while he intently searched through the keys for one that might fit.
“I tried,” Merlin said.
“She’s a bit angry about the magic,” Leon said, choosing a key to try in the lock. “I’m surprised the guards were able to find the cold iron to restrain you so quickly.”
“Gaius wouldn’t have given it to her. As angry as he is with me, I know he doesn’t wish me that kind of harm,” Merlin said.
“No, I think Uther kept a collection of restraints in his chambers in case they were ever needed. Gwen must have told the guards where to find it,” Leon said as he tried yet another key.
“I shouldn’t have lied to her for all those years. She was my friend,” Merlin said as Leon slid the new key into the lock.
“She had been pleased when she found out you were with Arthur. She knew you’d put in a good effort to save him. She knows how you feel about him,” Leon said quietly. “And what his feelings were for you.”
Leon's words warmed Merlin. He was surprised that Gwen understood that Arthur had an appreciation for his manservant, when he usually did little else but tease and torment him daily. “I tried to save him,” Merlin said, “but my efforts weren't good enough.” The words died on Merlin's tongue when Morforwyn's assertions about Merlin’s incredible bravery and talent echoed back to him.
Maybe what Merlin had done for Arthur was enough? Maybe Merlin should feel proud that he had gotten Arthur as far as the lake? Maybe the Sidhe were working their magic on Arthur right now-they couldn't very well be healing him if Merlin hadn't at least gotten him to the lake.
“When Gwen learned of Arthur's death, she could only think of reigning as queen of Camelot-something she has dreamed of since she was a little girl,” Leon said thoughtfully as he worked on the lock.
Merlin remembered well the Gwen he met when he first came to Camelot. “She'll be a good queen, she cares about people so much,” Merlin said. “When she's like herself.”
“Yes, but as the queen, she's under a lot of pressure. You've seen what the stress of it all has made her do to you-a friend. I don't think she could have anticipated how much becoming queen would affect her. Do you know how it is when you finally get something that you've dreamed about for so long? When everything falls into place and it’s so much more than you thought it would be?” Leon asked, shaking his head as he worked. “Some people can’t handle it. It’s just too much. The decisions that have to be made are just too overwhelming.”
Merlin tried to apply Leon's observations to himself. He supposed he'd be relieved if he was able to return Arthur to life, but his heart sank when he considered the magnitude of the task and what it would mean if he were successful. Arthur knew about his magic now. No matter how badly he hoped that he and Arthur could continue their lives as manservant and a king- the king who would lead Camelot to glory and the king who would rule over all of Albion- it seemed unlikely that Merlin would ever polish Arthur's armour or shine Arthur's boots again. Some things would never be the same between them and the least significant of those would be the tending to Arthur’s appearance. Fear welled up inside Merlin when he realized how their relationship would change. Arthur had pleaded with Merlin to hold him, to comfort him when he died. He tamped down the memory of it quickly, while he still could rely on Leon's attention to his restraints.
“I can only wish that she will be successful in ruling the kingdom in Arthur’s absence,” Merlin said, straining to lean back to give Leon more room.
“It's changed her,” Leon said, grunting as he worked the key. “And she is no more happy about it than I am.”
With one more nudge of the key, the iron fell from Merlin's neck and clattered to the stone floor.
“Leon?” Merlin asked, his gaze drawn to the iron.
Leon's lips curled into a thin smile.
Merlin looked from the iron band to Leon's face. “You... and Gwen?” he asked.
Merlin could barely see in the dark dungeon, but he could swear that Leon's cheeks flushed red.
“Merlin…” Leon said, casting his eyes down to the broken ring of iron that lay on the cell floor.
“You’re more than friends?” Merlin asked, the realization finally dawning on him.
“There's no need to act so surprised, Merlin,” Leon stammered. “You, of all people might know the loneliness of Gwen's marriage bed. It seems the king is most at peace when he's off on a hunt with you. Any fool could see the shallowness of their relationship in the absence of an heir.”
Merlin’s head ached. Whether it was from Leon’s revelation or the blow from Camelot’s guard, he couldn't say. For all the years that Arthur and Gwen had been together, he always assumed they were blissfully happy. Not that he had a lot of experience with married couples for comparison. He had never known his own parents when they were together. Certainly Gwen and Arthur seemed distant from each other many times, but for all Merlin knew, every married couple behaved this way.
“Leon, I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “I truly didn’t know.”
“I won’t have the queen’s honour questioned, but let’s call it even. You and Arthur aren't the only pair in this castle who share an interest in poetry,” Leon said.
Leon’s words punched the air from Merlin’s lungs. Surely Leon didn’t believe that Arthur and Merlin were lovers? It was too much for Merlin to take in. Yes, he had sworn to protect Arthur for all the days of his life and yes, he loved him as much as any man could love a brother, a fellow warrior, a king, but Leon’s impression of the pair of them was so far from the truth-
“I found this,” Leon said, and from beneath his cloak he drew the Horn of Cathbhadh, the key to Arthur’s return.
“Leon,” Merlin said. “I need that. It was the reason I entered Arthur's chambers.”
“I figured as much,” Leon said. “It fell from your pocket when you were scuffling with the guards. I knew it was important to you.”
“If I may have it,” Merlin said. “It might be the key to bringing Arthur back.”
Leon’s eyes narrowed. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. "There's no one with more investment in Arthur's return than you, but it's important for all of us."
Merlin reached for the horn and took it from Leon’s hand.
“I can’t make any promises,” Merlin said. “But this is our best hope for restoring Arthur to life.”
“It has to work, Merlin. The Saxons are gathering their troops even as we speak and I fear that they have new allies in their quest to overtake Camelot,” Leon said.
“You think the Saxons are waiting to attack, and adding to their strength while Camelot sleeps,” Merlin said. “I sense it too.”
“They know that Camelot’s forces have been weakened by the battle against Morgana and her armies,” Leon said. “Gwen… she means well.”
“I know,” Merlin said. “The threat of war with the Saxons would be too much for most men to handle. No one expects Gwen to be able to-”
“She’s a strong woman, Merlin,” Leon said.
“I know she is,” Merlin said, gripping Leon’s arm in reassurance. “No one doubts her ability or her competence. Under normal circumstances, she’d be a great leader. But you? What is your involvement with her? If she loves you, why is she so angry with me?”
“I think she sees your failure to save Arthur’s life as the incident that put her in this position,” Leon said.
“She could have just happily continued living with Arthur for the rest of her life, until I made the mistake of not getting him to the Sidhe in time,” Merlin said. “I think I understand.”
Leon nodded slowly. “Arthur… this is his kingdom through and through. I can’t bear to see it die because of Gwen’s indecision and inexperience, no matter how much I admire her. And if Arthur's allies take up sides with the Saxons, in hopes of receiving a share of Camelot's lands-”
“Arthur’s allies… they already doubt the power of the kingdom Arthur built? His body is barely cold,” Merlin said.
“I fear that they don’t hold Gwen in the same esteem that they held Arthur. Arthur is of noble birth. Gwen would never be able to command the respect of Camelot’s allies. The old guard of Uther’s day will always see her as nothing but a serving girl turned queen,” Leon said. “Arthur’s allies, Rodor, Olaf, Annis… they have only recently sworn their loyalty to Arthur. How long will their new alliance last when Camelot dangles like sweet fruit ready for the plucking?”
“There are worse threats than those from the families of Mithian and Vivian,” Merlin said. “What of the Sarrum of Amata? Those monsters would attack their own mothers if given the chance.”
“Arthur’s enemies will grow, when he can’t keep them in check,” Leon said. “They plot to divide Camelot and share the spoils among themselves.”
“We can't let that happen. It's everything Arthur worked for,” Merlin said.
“If you have a solution, you need to follow through with it,” Leon said.
Merlin gripped the horn tightly in his hand. “I think I can bring Arthur back,” he said.
“Then you must do it,” Leon said. “Go. For the sake of all of us, go. Arthur would want you to go to him, I know he would.”
“Thank you, Leon,” Merlin said, meaning it with all of his heart.
Merlin headed for the stairs with Leon. As they climbed, Merlin realized that he had been knocked out for most of the morning. He tentatively touched the knot on the back of his head. It felt tender and swollen, but he didn’t feel any dried blood.
The sun was high when they reached the gate to the courtyard. Merlin could feel its warmth, even though it barely burned through the grey overcast of midday. Merlin trusted that Leon would shield him from any passers-by who wanted to do him harm. He followed the red billowing cloak that distinguished Leon as a knight of Camelot, arriving in the stables without attracting anyone’s notice.
“I can’t leave Camelot to go with you,” Leon said. “And there are few horses to spare after what happened at Camlann.”
“I can go on foot, but it will take me longer. I won’t reach the lake until tomorrow,” Merlin said.
“Saddle Dunraven for me,” Leon told the stableboy, after choosing a sturdy bay from its stall.
“I can take you as far as the Ealdor crossroads,” Leon said. “That ought to give you a good start. You’ll make it to the lake at Avalon by sunset if we hurry.”
Merlin sighed with relief at Leon’s willingness to help him.
“The guards are back on duty,” Merlin said as he stood at the stable door, watching the changing of the patrol in the courtyard. He recognized a few of the younger guards and wondered how many old faces had been lost to battle in the past week.
“Only Gwen herself could give the order to stop you now,” Leon said, scanning the newly-arrived guards in the courtyard. “And I’ll see to her if she tries to make that happen.”
“Thank you. I hope she won’t be angry for your absence this afternoon,” Merlin said, turning to stroke Dunraven’s nose. “She needs you.”
Leon nodded and gave the saddle a tug. “You have the horn?” he asked.
Merlin patted his jacket pocket and said, “I’ll get it to Arthur safely, with your help. And, Leon, he’d be proud that he selected you as the leader of his knights.”
Leon mounted Dunraven and gave Merlin a hand to haul him onto the horse’s back. With a nudge of his heels, Leon urged the horse forward, Dunraven’s hooves clattering across the courtyard. Together the men rode from the citadel, leaving Camelot without raising any alarm among the guards.
The early afternoon passed too slowly for Merlin’s liking. The beat of galloping hooves beneath them never seemed to be taking them across the land fast enough. Whether it was the long stretch of road that seemed to span endlessly before them or the incomprehensible thought that Gwen had taken a liking to Leon while Arthur still shared their marriage bed, Merlin’s mind was in turmoil.
Merlin had always thought of Leon as a fine man. His loyalty to Arthur had never come into question. He’d even been known to ignore Merlin’s well-being if paying attention to his distress meant abandoning a quest or disobeying Arthur’s word. Gwen was fortunate to have someone as dedicated as Leon to help her after Arthur’s death. Although Merlin had never worried himself about the stability of Arthur and Gwen’s marriage before, now that it had been brought to his attention, he became even more concerned about what would happen to Leon and Gwen if he successfully returned Arthur to life.
Would Gwen continue to carry on with Leon? Would Arthur be crushed to learn that Gwen had so easily moved on from his death to find a new mate? Arthur was beside himself in anguish when Gwen chose Lancelot over him all those years ago. How would Merlin comfort Arthur, if he were able to bring him back to life and if he found it necessary to shed light on the new happenings in Camelot? He hoped that Arthur would listen to him without blame, despite the difficult news he’d have of the days that passed since he entrusted him into the care of the Sidhe.
On Leon and Merlin rode into the late afternoon, with Merlin curling his fingers under the back of the saddle to attain a secure grip. He occasionally shifted in his seat to take hold of Leon’s shoulders, as they’d engage in conversation about how many men had been lost in the battle, how sad they both were about what happened to Gwaine, and whether Leon thought Gwen might ever see fit to lift the ban on magic in Camelot. The conversation regarding magic was too much for Merlin to think about. He half expected Leon to ask if Merlin could turn him into a toad, such was the knight’s new understanding of Merlin’s powers.
When Merlin’s thighs burned so much that he thought he couldn’t ride any longer, he recognized the last stretch of road on their way to the intersection with the road to Ealdor. Leon unexpectedly slowed Dunraven to a halt and motioned for Merlin to keep quiet. Ahead, on the road, Merlin could see a bustle of activity taking place. There seemed to be some sort of meeting in progress at the intersection. Merlin could make out the men in Saxon garb as Leon urged Dunraven into the brush at the side of the road.
“I can keep us hidden,” Merlin said, assuring Leon that he could keep them safe.
“I had nearly forgotten,” Leon said, although Merlin wasn’t sure whether he truly believed him, but there was no time to doubt Leon’s sincerity. Merlin shepherded both Leon and Dunraven into the dense stand of trees, whispering a spell to keep them hidden from the Saxon's view. When they were secure, Merlin tethered Dunraven to a tree and crept through the forest with Leon to where they could get a better view of the action at the crossroads as it unfolded.
Ahead, on the road, the Saxon warriors stood guard over a meeting between enemies. Merlin recognized Cerdic, the Saxon king, his pewter crown heavy upon his head as he spit through the matted length of his beard, a sword ready in his hand. Across from him stood a familiar visitor to Camelot. Merlin recognized King Godwyn’s emissary from the time he accompanied the king to Camelot in years past with Princess Elena. Merlin worried that the situation with Camelot's allies was just as Leon had told him it would be. Arthur’s former allies had ridden through the realm to ally with the Saxons, all part of their plan to claim a slice of Camelot for their own.
If King Godwyn had sent a party to negotiate with the Saxons, how many had come before them?
And how many would come after?
Elena’s father couldn’t be blamed for wanting a portion of Camelot to add to his own kingdom. After all, Arthur had rejected Elena’s hand in marriage all those years ago. She had yet to marry, as far as Merlin knew. The bad blood between the families had probably weighed heavily on King Godwyn’s mind for years. The anger was not enough to go to war over, but enough to make a father take the Saxon’s side-with Arthur dead and Elena’s rival wearing the crown of Camelot.
“Love,” Leon said, a wistful look in his eyes.
“Love?” Merlin asked, confused by the interruption of his thoughts about impending war.
“I understand now the things that one will do for love. How many princesses had been rejected by our own Princess before he married Gwen?” Leon asked.
Merlin felt a pang of sorrow for Gwaine whose taunts had so easily become part of the language of knights. “Gwaine,” he said with affection, giving Leon a half-hearted smile.
“You see what I mean, though,” Leon said. “It's no surprise to me that the fathers of the shunned princesses are out for Gwen's blood. They have no alliance with her.”
“But you... and Gwen,” Merlin said. “You fear you’ll lose her if Arthur returns.”
“Sometimes, a man needs to do what he feels is right, no matter the consequences he may suffer. If you can bring Arthur back, it would be enough to keep peace in Camelot and in all the realm,” Leon said.
Merlin watched Leon's lips go thin. Of course bringing Arthur back might ruin a future Leon had planned with Gwen. But to fail could mean the dissolution of the Camelot he had worked so hard to defend.
“I never underestimated Arthur’s power to unify the kingdom,” Merlin said. “I assure you, if I can bring him back to life if I get to the lake, he'll do what's right.”
“I fear that Godwyn won’t be the first of Arthur’s allies to turn against him in death,” Leon said as he gazed down the road at the Saxons. “Even if he does return, we may not have enough men to defeat the Saxons and their new allies.”
Merlin nodded in agreement. It made sense that the allies Arthur had made would not uphold their agreements with Gwen in charge, especially if she was perceived to be as unstable as Gaius had insinuated. The threat of Camelot’s demise strengthened Merlin’s resolve to return to the lake and to summon Arthur with the horn. If there was ever any doubt in his mind about whether it was the right thing to do, it was allayed by the appearance of Godwyn’s emissary. He had to get to the lake, and quickly.
“Thank you for bringing me this far,” Merlin said, after they invisibly watched Cerdic and his army of men disband and ride off in their opposite directions.
With a whispered spell, he made Leon and Dunraven visible again.
“Godspeed to you, Merlin,” Leon said. “I wish you luck in your task. I sincerely mean that. For Gwen's sake... for all our sakes.”
Merlin clasped Leon’s arm as a sign of their brotherhood. Merlin recognized the waver in Leon’s voice and only could imagine what boldness of spirit it took for him to wish earnestly for Arthur’s return. What Arthur's return might mean to Leon and his love for Gwen, Merlin could only imagine.
Merlin hoped that Leon would tell Gwen about their discovery of the Saxon's new allies. Perhaps it would spur her to defend the kingdom, but Merlin feared that it would already be too late.
Camelot’s forces were brutally weakened by Morgana’s war, and Godwyn’s men simply sought to finish the job. If Godwyn was here already negotiating with the Saxons, would Annis and Rodor be far behind? And what of King Olaf and the other lords of the land whose daughter’s hands in marriage hadn’t been joined with Arthur’s in marriage? If love was a reason enough to engage in this negotiation of dividing Camelot’s lands, then what other shunned families who had sought Arthur as a suitor would follow?
Merlin watched Leon ride down the road toward Camelot. He was an honourable man and Merlin wished with all his might that he could help Gwen to see what was coming next. He regretted that there was nothing further that he could do to help Leon in his dealings with Gwen, but he had a challenge of his own to face. Merlin touched his pocket where the horn was safely stowed away. He pressed gently with his fingers, feeling its outline, a surge of hope for Arthur’s return welling in his chest. If he hurried, he’d be at the lake by sunset.
Merlin set off down the road to Avalon, its surface scarred by a dual track of wagon wheels left by travellers who had made the journey across the kingdom. His head throbbed with every step, the blood pounding through the achy bump he received from Camelot’s guard.
He put the pain out of his mind as he walked. He’d have to suffer far worse agony than the twinge in his head to keep him from the lakeside, to keep him from Arthur, his king. He had sworn that he would protect Arthur, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. And he was willing to do just that this time, just like every other time. He had sworn it to Arthur, and that promise he made as they stood on the doorstep of a great battle became his duty that day and every day after.
What if Arthur became cross with him for stealing the horn from his chambers?
The thought of Arthur’s surly tone made Merlin smile. “Merlin,” he’d say,< i>“only an idiot would allow himself to be thrown into the dungeon by a… girl!”
Leave it to Arthur to be an insufferable prat, even after Merlin brought him back from the dead. Merlin dwelled on the thought, the memory of Arthur’s voice wafting through the corners of his mind. He turned over each memory of it as he strode past trees and boulders, each step bringing him closer to his goal. He wrapped his thoughts around the velvet sound of Arthur's words as the road curled through the countryside, over rolling hills and through the dark hidden places of the forest, no Saxons in sight and no plan for what to do with them if they did start an altercation with him. Arthur’s voice swam through his head, as if it were only yesterday that he last heard the cherished sound. Sometimes the voice chided him for being a terribly inefficient servant, but sometimes the voice sounded so warm and tender that Merlin could barely bring himself to consider that he might never hear it again.
Merlin shook off the sorrowful thought. Instead, he remembered Morforwyn and his insistence that Merlin would succeed at bringing Arthur back. He increased the length of his stride across the damp roadway, thinking all the while of what it would be like to have Arthur by his side again. In all Merlin's life he had known no other purpose but to protect Arthur from harm. Something about it felt right as he walked faster. The broken pieces of his universe were sliding back into their proper place. It soothed him like the comfort of sending magic from his fingertips after needing to restrain it for a long period of time.
Around the next bend in the road, Merlin made his way closer and closer to Avalon. Merlin hoped that Arthur wouldn’t be angry with Leon, or with Gwen. Leon could hardly be blamed for wanting to help Gwen in the tragedy of Arthur’s death. And Gwen, she had little experience in running a kingdom. Together they didn't have much of a chance in upholding Arthur's legacy. It was a great comfort to Merlin that at least the pair could find some solace in each other after Arthur's death. It would serve them well in case Merlin wasn’t successful with the Horn of Cathbhadh that weighed both heavily in his pocket and on his mind.
Merlin suspected Leon hadn’t had much opportunity to forge a relationship with a girl in Camelot. Who had time for a girl, anyway, Merlin wondered. Arthur barely had time for Gwen, and she was his wife. Merlin knew that he himself hadn’t found time or opportunity to be with anyone. He remembered the time when an enchanted Gwen had told Arthur that Merlin had a girl he was meeting. It disturbed him how easily Gwen had lied about it when the thought of it was ludicrous to him. No, he hadn’t been able to think about giving his heart to another since Freya’s death. Not when his days were filled with serving Arthur, with protecting him from harm, with ensuring he would become a great king.
Faster and faster, Merlin walked, practically ran across the hills that led to Avalon. At the forefront of his mind was the purpose of his journey, to bring Arthur back, to return to the life he knew before the war with Morgana took over their lives, before Mordred dealt Arthur his fatal blow. Back to the time when everything about Arthur filled Merlin’s days. Merlin would tend Arthur’s needs from dawn to dusk. They made an odd pair, Merlin supposed-a great king and his manservant who possessed magical powers that his highness could know nothing about. Somehow, it worked for them to share their lives-the sorrow of losing their fathers, the exhilaration of a battle won, the affection they shared for each other in times of strife as well as in jubilation.
Indeed, Merlin’s most joyous memories were the times he spent in deep confidence with Arthur, both of them working toward the same goal. Their enemies were shared in times of danger, just as in times of happiness Merlin shared in Arthur’s joy-when he became king, when he embraced Merlin finding him alive, when he caught Merlin’s eye from across a smoky campfire. Despite the threat of an insurmountable battle, the blue of Arthur’s eyes filled Merlin to the brim with a happiness that Merlin knew not how to put into words.
Over the rolling hills, the narrow tract worn to dust by hooves, Merlin glimpsed the tower that rose from the island where he had last left his king’s side. A breathless laugh escaped his chest, the thrill of arriving on the shore so he could use the horn suffused him with a joy that he had nearly forgotten in the days that passed without his king.
Being with Arthur was a sacred joy, the only joy Merlin ever allowed himself in Camelot. Sometimes when he lay awake in his narrow bed at night, he’d replay the events of the day, the roughhousing, the secret looks, the casual melting of boundaries between servant and king. He remembered those feelings now, and they came back with even more force than they had when Arthur was alive.
Merlin could hide these feelings that Arthur stirred in him with much more ease than he could his magic. The magic took more of his time to conceal, more of his effort, so the tender feelings of Merlin’s heart stayed buried deep within him.
But now, with his magic revealed as Arthur’s heart beat through its final days, the tension of keeping Merlin’s secret was released. He could relax for the first time, even though he knew Arthur may soon die. The moments of freedom were addictive, dizzying, and he yearned to experience them again.
What would it be like to laugh with Arthur now? To be free of his secret of magic with Arthur healthy and whole? Not for the first time, Merlin imagined Arthur’s lips curled into a smile, Arthur’s hot breath on his neck, Arthur’s hands on him as he came undone, something previously unattainable that suddenly seemed within reach.
Just over the next hill.
He ran to the lake, his boots splattering mud onto his breeches. Slipping through the grass, he dropped to his knees, the wetness staining them black. He wrestled the horn from his pocket, put it to his lips and blew.
~ ~ ~