Let's Do This Over 2.5/3
2.10
With morning sun they went home. Merlin was distant and Arthur couldn’t place what it could be. Was is what Bruce had said that caused him so much strife? They rode for a week, taking days for a journey that should have taken hours. Despite the slowness to their movements they rode like the fire that once lived in their hearts. The disjointed wind calmed their nerves before the creeping sun set them off again. They were desperate to find where they belonged. In Moray it was all over. A wound that ached before the arrow even left the bow. Scars had already been formed.
Neared to the castle they repeated their teenage years underneath the watch of an apple tree. They picked the last of the Autumn fruits, just beginning to turn, and the few berries left on the bushes. Merlin’s mouth was stained red. The colour seeping out like blood from the cracks on his lips.
He tasted like the cold and remnants of fruit. Arthur held him close for far too long. Merlin was all types of unholy but Arthur was the sin so bitter sweet.
He didn’t need to say anything when he readied to leave. The promises and “I love you”’s hung in the air.
---
The castle was colder than the outside upon their return. The courtyard had stood still for them as whispers carried fast. Arthur saw movement in Morgana’s window. A shift in the curtains that gave away what Arthur had managed.
They made it to his chambers without being ambushed by his father or a servant once. He half expected a priest to jump out from behind a pillar and flick holy water at him. Latin was a language Arthur learned young. It didn’t mean he wanted the nostalgia of having it shouted at him in means of retribution.
Everything was in slow motion and bleeding out into the sun.
Merlin looked so much paler. There was determination stuck fast in his eyes but his fingers gave it away as he fidgeted.
“You stay here when my father comes,” Arthur heard himself say. When had he gotten so brave? So cowardly? “Bolt the door behind me. I’ll be back.”
“There’s no denying it,” Merlin managed to sound only slightly less bitter than he probably was.
“It will be okay. I’m not going to let them take you.”
Because, in the end, that’s what it came down to. Arthur could have his title renounced, his blood ties denied and his lands taken. Merlin would be burned. Greater men had been killed for lesser crimes.
Arthur carried. His voice still betraying him but he stopped caring. “I would rather die than live a second without you. Don’t you let yourself think for a second that I would ever just let you go.”
A shuddering breath arose from Merlin. Great heaves of his shoulders as he tried to regain composure. “I don’t,” he weakly said. “That’s what I’m scared of.”
Arthur ran his hands up Merlin’s arms. He felt the heat of lean muscle beneath one of Arthur’s own old shirts.
“I missed being able to touch you,” Merlin whispered, his eye not leaving Arthur’s face. “God I missed you so much. I always miss you.”
“I thought you hated me.”
Merlin smiled. “I do. I hate your arrogance and the way your voice is always stuck in my head. I hate how easily I let myself weave into your life. And I wouldn’t dare try trading you for all the land in the world.”
“I’d start a crusade just to get you back. I’d tell them all you were my Jerusalem.”
There was something that went unspoken. The softest glint of recognition on Merlin’s face. “I know,” he said earnestly. “I’d let you start all those wars and I’ll be there by your side making sure you win them all.”
Something settled inside Arthur’s gut. The odd feeling of familiarity that came far too often when Merlin was around. It wasn’t nostalgia; there was no yearning for something he could remember but there was the fear and anxiety associated with it. The awkward feeling of Arthur having lost something without knowing what it could be. His mind cleared and he could think of only one thing to say, “I’ll burn bridges.”
Without missing anything Merlin responded, “I’ll burn more.”
A knock came down firm on the door. Arthur dropped his hold of Merlin and stepped away.
“Come in,” he called.
The servant who came in was one Arthur had never seen before. He didn’t look at Merlin or him fully and kept his eyes glued to his feet instead. “Your father requests you and your servant’s presence, my lord.”
He was gone before Arthur could give an answer. The door slammed shut.
---
“You two,” Uther seethed. “Have brought shame to this family.”
Arthur said, “It can’t be that bad. We were only gone a week at best.”
“It doesn’t matter how long you were gone but rather why you were gone.”
“We fought for what we saw as right-”
“You know damn well that that is not what this is about.” The sound of Uther's voice was enough to stop Arthur dead in his tracks. This was it. This was what the build up of Arthur's life had come to. Any sort of doubt he held was lost. Uther held Merlin and Arthur's lives in the balance. One slip of Arthur's word meant Uther's hand coming down. No amount of repent would stave off Uther's anger.
But Uther settled back again. He pressed his back flush against the wood of his chair. His let his arms relax just enough to reconsider the tension.
"Your sister has reason to believe that this is all just insolence. A belated form of childhood rebellion. I hope to God that you have something to say about this."
Morgana was a lifesaver. They had barely spoken in the recent months- she was too caught up in her rooms, her sickness and her marriage and Arthur was caught up in everything else. In adolescence they had never seen eye to eye but as they grew older things changed between the two them. Their morals evened out and their lives grew more complicated. The solace of an unburdened alliance was needed more than memories of their fights as children.
Arthur's lack of response gave away what little truth there was left to tell but Uther chose to ignore it anyway. He drove on with the conversation.
"You should just consider yourselves lucky that the stories only spread as far as the servants' quarters. If it got beyond the walls I don't know what repercussions would have come out of this."
But there were repercussions. There would always be repercussions.
Uther let a frailing finger point at Merlin. "And you," his voice began to rise again. "I knew since I had appointed you his servant that I had made a grave mistake. Your mother served us well but all you have ever done has caused us nothing but trouble. You have done and continue to belittle our authority, overstep your position and knowingly choose to take advantage of my son's fragile nature."
"I'm not fragile-"
"Be quiet!" Arthur flinched. Dust began to settle.
Merlin spoke, his voice causing cracks to form in the sky. The light of him came through then, having travelled for centuries across the stars.
"My lord, I believe we have already been punished for our actions. I feel as if the weight of my sins has already been lifted like smoke off my shoulders. We have all already fought in unlegendary wars and yet we choose to add another to this list."
Something callus flashed in Uther's eyes. It was Merlin's voice speaking but the words sounded nothing like him.
"I think the Gods have seen it so we all carry on unburdened. Why else would we live so freely now? Why else would I?"
Gods.
"Without repercussions beyond now," Uther muttered. Gone was his anger. Instead it had been replaced with an unmistakable age. Uther looked so tired.
There were always going to be repercussions.
Merlin stood stoic in front of Arthur. When he had moved Arthur didn't know. It was almost as if this moment was always happening. The warm contentedness that filled Arthur's brain with calm left him stalling. Beneath this layer was something else entirely. By God it was only know. Maybe also Merlin, whose smiles conveyed more than just secrets. He was just so good at keeping things from Arthur. He was a shield and Arthur was far too noble to need one.
"I'll be married come Autumn." The words fell from his mouth before he could think. He was tying rocks to his ankles, too caught up in his own descent that he barely noticed Merlin flinch. He held his breath, count down from ten and tried to re imagine what had just happened.
Arthur had changed everything. The ruthless surrounding his father had dispersed. Left in its place felt like ancient regrets. Of all the things his father could have shown to Arthur, it had to be regret.
Arthur was out the door before anyone had spoke. Behind him Merlin stumbled drunkenly, slowly pulling all the strings together. Upon closing the door he could have sworn he heard his father say, "You may go."
Too late. It was always too damn late.
"Go back to my chambers," Arthur said, trying to regain some of the control he had lost. "Wait there for me."
All of this walking through empty spaces was beginning to get old.
---
Morgana's rooms were not at all like Arthur's. They were light and airy, dressed in pale blues and lilacs. There were no hard lines like Arthur's chambers, but soft floating fabrics and a curved outer wall. It had been months since he had spent time with her and longer still since he had visited their mother's grave. He had been too caught up in Merlin and the progression of the war. The consequences had proved fatal.
Morgana's chambers reminded Arthur of all the things that, technically, should have made the castle home. They reminded him of childhood feuds with Morgana, the games he played with her and their brothers, of Igraine's laughter dancing in his ears. That wasn't home, though, no matter how hard he tried to make it so. And good God, did he try. It wasn't the memories or the people who he knew in childhood, but Merlin, who always managed to taste like summer fruit and kiss like bitter wine. He was a grand old thing, brought up to serve and not achieve. It was him and the alcove where they had been caught, the apple tree which held together their secrets in its roots, and the safe, Godless world they had made for themselves. That was what Arthur knew as home.
It didn't make Morgana any less important to him. She was nothing like Arthur's memories of her. Gone was her care free nature, her resilient desire to do right had weathered with the passing years, and her hands slowly began to shake. She had lost her hard shell but kept a small sense of her authority. She was sick with something no healer could diagnose. It left her confined to her bed for half the year and was, perhaps, the only household secret more well kept than Arthur's. Today was a good day for her. Her face set with stern lines set Uther's to shame. The quiet malice set everyone up to fall back down to their knees.
He wanted to get this all over with and pretend so badly that Morgana was normal. The debilitating sickness might not have kept her held down today, but every word she spoke resonated with her rattling breath.
Arthur couldn't take it any more. The bittersweet sensation would leave him the sooner he spoke. "Thank you," he said. "For what you did for us."
Sat in front of her vanity she was already distracted; too busy running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame what already was. "What did I do?" she asked.
"You made our father forgive me."
She hummed sweetly and shook her head. "It can't have been." She looked at Arthur's reflection. "I haven't spoken to him for days. Not since you left, I've been all torn up."
Oh, well.
Morgana had been gone for a long time. She was always there in front of Arthur but in reality she was absent from herself. She couldn't convey to anyone else what was happening inside of her head and it ruined her. It was possible that she just forgot that she had ever spoken to Uther. But she always looked so distant when she was confused and today was the only day she had ever looked with any certainty. They were deafening, the quiet facts than begun to reveal themselves one by one.
"Well, I hope you find you peace."
Morgana nodded in acceptance and then went on to ignore Arthur standing there in the mirror. He left, ready to wander the corridors once again until he found himself.
---
Merlin was waiting in Arthur's bedchamber. He was sat on the bed-fires lit, candles set to take over for the sun when night fell-fidgeting with his sleeves.
"Morgana says she didn't tell father anything," Arthur said once he closed the door. Merlin looked blank. "She hasn't even spoken to him for days."
"Maybe she was just confused."
Arthur shook his head. "I've never seen her look more certain in my life. You remember, when we were children we used too-"
"I wasn't there. And anyway, certainty in the insane shouldn't be gospel truth."
"She's not insane."
"You know what, she might as well be."
"Merlin."
"It would explain a lot of things. No wonder your father's so keen to have her married off."
"Merlin!"
Merlin stopped. "What?" he looked at Arthur and then, immediately said, "I'm sorry, I overstepped."
"Why would she lie to me?"
Merlin fell apart underneath the slightest of blows. This was not one of them.
"You know she doesn't look anything like your mother. Then there's you, looking so sweet, just like her. The curve of your jaw, the way you smile, how you hold yourself. It's all so much like your mother. Sometimes I forget who Morgana is, but I can see it in her eyes who she is. The two of you look nothing alike except from the angle of your eyes."
"I think you should leave, Merlin."
Merlin opened and closed his mouth as if he meant to speak, hands hanging limply after being stopped mid conversation. He pulled himself together, stood up and made to exit, but not before biting out a stiff, "My lord," by way of leaving.
2.11
A year after that late Autumn came the end of Arthur's time. Before that there was summer than Spring. Further back still there was the first real winter of the new year.
In the orchard, long after the leaves had parted from the trees, sat beside the ground where the apple tree once held strong was where Arthur found Merlin.
Snow covered the ground, but there were shallow pits surrounding the few evergreens. Merlin was sat with his body pressed into the leaves, hiding from the weather.
"You shouldn't leave the castle when it's like this, you'll catch your death."
"I'll take my chances," Merlin said. His eyes were closed and his head tilted up, gazing wistfully, without seeing, to the heavens.
"You'd make a terrible tactician. You can't take chances with your health like that in wars."
Merlin laughed, a sharp sound that turned the knife in Arthur's stomach. Thing had been tense since they returned to the castle months ago. Neither one of them had tried to fix what was lost and instead went on pretending that nothing had ever changed. It was Arthur's duty to apologise; he had dragged Merlin down with him.
"You'd make a terrible knight," Merlin smiled. He opened his eyes just enough to squint at Arthur. "At least I can make my own decisions."
It was all so backwards. The idea of what they had become to one another. Sharp jokes that held no humour. Comments pulled from the air, meant to maim but only leaving nail marks. Forwards, Arthur pushed. He had so much to lose but it was already beginning to become lost.
For the two weeks following they stumbled together, half-heartedly clinging to each other to pass the time away. Winter solstice had left them locked in Arthur's chambers amidst another worthless argument. The walls and floor were cold, but the fire was warm, the food was too, and the bed beckoned them from its new positions in front of the fireplace.
Arthur's mind was still caught up in Uther and Morgana, and whatever Merlin had been trying to say to him but he didn't want to suffer through what peaceful time they had left. The fight had paused while the snow fell down, and the snow wouldn’t stop falling.
One afternoon the castle stood still, all signs of life gone bar the smoke from the fires. They were in Arthur's chambers waiting out the storm. Stuck in the bed, seeking refuge from the cold.
"I'm still convinced you could be King," Merlin mumbled sleepily, his voice croaking from lack of use. His chest was pressed against the mattress but he was looking at Arthur. He was squinting in the low light and his hair stood up in tufts.
"Maybe," Arthur replied.
Merlin smiled slow and sweet, candle light catching in his eyes and the fire warming his hair from jet black to golden brown.
"Definitely, just not yet. One day you'll be a great King and I'll be by your side the whole way." Merlin ran his fingers over Arthur's.
Merlin had already given Arthur everything he had; his loyalty, his love and his trust. He was so completely committed that there was nothing left of him to give. Arthur couldn't say he had done the same. He loved Merlin wholey-no matter how bruised or broken he was-and he would give his last breath to him if he had to. He would give up the world for Merlin, who was a shining beacon of hope amongst all of the change. What Merlin wanted was nothing short of treason. A joking treason, the sort left only half thought through and never entirely honest.
"I would be a terrible King," he said for maybe the thousandth time. He moved the hand Merlin wasn't holding so he could touch Merlin's face. He stopped short at the temple and grazed the cheekbones with the rough skin of his thumb. It was barely a touch, nothing close to the apology still needed, but it was something. It was enough for now.
2.12
It was tragic to love someone so much for so long and yet to feel as if you did not know them completely.
---
In late August of that same year a messenger came bearing the crest of a Flemish house. Arthur's marriage was to be postponed; war had broken out in his home country and it wasn't feasible to think of moving his future with at such a time. There was still no word of who she was.
---
In April news of Bruce’s return to Scotland came in the form of Bedivere. This time Arthur and Merlin left the castle with full knowledge of where they would be going. No longer would fear of Uther's actions stay Arthur's thoughts. His loyalties could not be moved and his father grew to accept it. Arthur saw no reason to fight about it any longer.
They travelled the country first, drawing support from men and meeting with Bruce when they could. Bedivere kept Arthur on the straight and narrow when Merlin was around. It was for the best. There was no time for distractions even when the need for speedy movements had long since passed. Scotland was still a country in the throes of war. Arthur fought with Bedivere and Bruce at Glentrool. He didn't see Merlin for the entire fight, but there was blood on his sword and bruises on his side when they found each other again. They captured Inverlochy and Urquhart and watched as Inverness and Nairn were raised to the ground, fire warming their hands.
By Banff Bruce fell ill and Arthur found himself briefly lost. He travelled west with Bedivere and Merlin in Bruce's absence to do what they could. Bruce's recovery was a miracle and he rode on to take Balvenie and Duffus. Things changed from that point. He rampaged the lands once he got to Moray, spilling Blood on the ground Arthur played on.
He watched with guilt in his heart as Bruce murdered all who he loved as a child. He closed out their screams and stayed his tongue. He rode at the back of the knights, as far from the blood as he could get.
It was near his father's own estate that he began to grow nervous. They passed through the orchards that held the remnants of his secrets. The apple tree had been cut down a long time ago to make way for something that would never be build. All that remained was a thin stump.
They neared the castle when Arthur spoke. "My father, he means you no harm. He will put up no arms against us. He will respect you as I do, even if his family loyalties keep him from liking you."
It didn't work. The small army rode on into the courtyard. Arthur had nothing left to say. His father was already descending the steps and before Arthur knew it Uther was kneeling in front of Bruce, head bowed in surrender. His hands shook. He looked like he was kneeling to pray.
There was long moment in which Arthur's world teetered on the edge of a cliff. How far would his loyalty have stretched had he known that Bruce would have done something like this?
Bruce's voice cut across the icy silence. It was a noise heard around the world. "You will be spared, for your son's loyalty if nothing else."
Bruce turned his horse and began to leave. He nodded as he passed Arthur. Bedivere said his goodbye when the rest of the flank had gone.
Bruce travelled onto Argyll as Arthur stayed behind with his father and so too did Merlin, ever the loyalist.
---
They were left alone for year in the knowledge that one day Arthur would be called upon to fight. The marriage was constantly postponed and rearranged, but Arthur finally knew a name. Alexandra, the third daughter of a Flemish Duke. She was younger than Arthur by years and he had seen one portrait. She was pale, brown braided hair just visible beneath the veil. She had round hazel eyes and a delicate mouth that showed little expression bar the slightest of smiles.
She was certainly beautiful. Arthur would be quite the envy of the nobility once the wedding finally went ahead. Arthur was dreading it. With each passing day it got closer, no matter how much it had to be pushed back. Time would not always be on his side.
---
Edward II, son of the old English King, was inaugurated in February. He held no quarry for Scotland beyond minor annoyance.
---
In the winter of 1308 Uther grew sick. A lung infection burdened him and his breath came out in forced shudders. He was confined to his bed by a monk named Gaius who was called upon to help. He worked herbs and plants into pastes that looked ghastly but were said to cure all ills.
Arthur had been so used to spending his time with Merlin and occasionally performing noble duties such as patrols and hunts that he had almost forgot all his lessons on keeping the duchy. He acted lord while Uther was bed bound. Merlin stood further away from Arthur while the stress overtook him.
The winter was harsh. Blizzards hit hard against the grey skies. Snow was thick and stubborn on the ground, refusing to move or fade away. Uther's room was kept the warmest out of all bar the kitchens. His lungs were full of fluid and his heart beat slow to a Roman victory march. He carried on in ill health despite the burden of breathing.
---
In the days following the new year Merlin fell ill. Arthur found him collapsed on the floor, breath something out in wheezes and sweating like it was high summer. Arthur carried Merlin to his bed and left him in the care of one of the few guards that Arthur actually trusted.
He rode with haste to Gaius's monastery. Gaius didn't take much prompting to journey back with Arthur but he was impatient with Arthur's need for speed.
"There's no need to hurry, my boy. I'm sure your servant is in good enough health for us to take out time," he said while Arthur stuttered about impatiently on his horse.
"You will hurry," he insisted.
Gaius stiffened but nodded. There might have been a muttering about the insolence of youth but nothing else slipped by Arthur.
They were back at the castle within record time but it still seemed far too slow for Arthur's liking. Gaius only needed to take one look around Arthur's chambers upon entering when a sudden slackness overcame his face. He worked quickly, tending to Merlin's illness without a hitch as if realising the reason for Arthur's haste.
When he was down he turned to Arthur and told him what had to be done in order to keep Merlin recovering.
"I can make my own way back from here, my lord. I have travelled this road many times in my life." No-one but Merlin had ever quite managed to say "my lord" in the manner that Gaius did. The tremblings of fear rocked Arthur's body.
"Thank you," was all Arthur found he was able to say. He was too busy keeping to Merlin and trying to hide in plain sight than to manage anything more than a quick clasp of Gaius' outstretched hand.
Gaius hesitated before leaving, as if he had forgotten how he was meant to open the door and walk away from the scene. "I will pray for him," Gaius said. "I will pray for the both of you." He was out the door in a flurry of robes and the soft slam of the chamber door.
Was he always so obvious?
---
Uther got back to good health soon after Merlin fell ill. It left Arthur with nothing to do but sit tight in his chambers, making sure Merlin was comfortable. When the appeal of that fell through Arthur sought something to make himself forget how wrong Merlin looked he threw himself into helping his father. He awaited the day the duchy would be his as much as he dreaded it.
Merlin was back to his usual charming, unpunctual self in less than a heartbeat on the eleventh day of the year, much to Arthur's visual distress. He'd have much preferred it if Merlin stayed in bed for longer just to ensure that all sickness was gone from his body.
---
Arthur's marriage was finally brought forwards to June of 1309. He spent Spring restless, tied up in his love for Merlin that each day broke his heart more. There were no grievances meant, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell. The final days before Alexandra arrived for the wedding Arthur spent deep within the forests. He was hunting for the feast but he only took Merlin with him. They let themselves by whole together for a few brief moments during which time slowed down. They left the forest, prizes slung over their shoulders, ready and unwilling to get back to their changing lives.
The actual wedding was a far more lavish affair than Morgana's had been. Tapestries were hung around the castle and the great hall was full of people and foliage. It was a gorgeous occasion; enough to rival a royal wedding.
Alexandra was even more stunning in real life. She wore a pale green wedding gown decorated in jewels and pearls, made by the finest tailors in her Kingdom. The war in her country had somehow spared her family's riches. She was here to impress. She spoke English perfectly and her Scottish was only slightly a botched attempt. She said her vows more fluently than Arthur, as though she had been practising instead racked with fear. This was the first time met. The portrait of her was never any easy thing to know.
At the feast she spoke pleasantly and never out of term. It was so unusual for Arthur. He was so used to spending time with Merlin that the propriety was foreign.
Merlin slipped out of the feast as soon as it began to wind down. Alexandra was taken away to her new chambers (which had been Morgana's first) to get ready. Arthur had fooled himself into forgetting about the consummation. He left soon after to find Merlin.
It was in Arthur's bed chambers that he found him. Merlin had refused to look Arthur in the eye for the entire feast. He was almost missed the ceremony if it hadn't been for Uther's manservant dragging a kicking Merlin into the room. Merlin was sitting on Arthur's bed.
"You should get ready," he said before Arthur could get a word in. Arthur just let it all happen.
Gradually Merlin removed all of Arthur's clothes and replaced them with his finest night robes. His touches lingered unconsciously but he still wouldn't look at Arthur fully.
"You could at least say something to me," Arthur said.
Merlin glared. "You'll be fine." He brushed the wrinkles out of the shirt and stepped back. He nodded, admiring his fine work and made to leave.
"Merlin," Arthur called when he realise what Merlin was doing. He slipped out into the hall behind him. "Merlin," he called again. It only made Merlin walk faster. "Merlin, stop running away."
Arthur ran down the corridor, grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and hurled him round. "What is you problem?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
Merlin huffed. "You're married," he said. "How could you think nothing would change?"
"That's what this is about?" Arthur couldn't help laughing. Merlin at least had the decency to look sheepish.
"...No."
"You were there when we planned this out."
"She's royalty."
"That changes nothing about how I feel. Dear God, don't let yourself think for one second that it would be anyone other than you. I'd rather have you over anyone but this is the only chance we have."
"I can't believe you'd have married me over her," Merlin gasped out in disbelief.
"I'd marry you over anyone if I were allowed. You're better than them all."
Merlin closed his eyes and sighed. The corridor was quiet except from the distant sound of festivities. "You still have to go," Merlin said. He opened his eyes again and finally met Arthur's.
"I know. I don't know what I'm going to do. But I'll be back to you before the night is over."
---
Arthur didn't come back. Merlin stayed up all night waiting.
2.13
For five years they lived a quiet life. Alexandra fitting more into the background running of things while Arthur tried to balance his time between them, giving Merlin far more time than he should have done.
One by one Arthur's brothers had either married or left to become mercenaries, a true sign that the times were changing much faster than Arthur would have liked. His father hadn't been seriously ill for a long time, but he looked frail and the dark circles under his eyes were a constant. Arthur was going to need an heir soon, a thought that plagued him always.
There were years before the world would come to that point. He had time to adjust to the idea of ever having to share anything with anyone other than Merlin. People were already speaking about the lack of an heir but when his father died word of something being wrong would spread sooner rather than later. It would be years more still until people began to speak of the rumours that once plagued him-the rumours dispelled by his marriage.
Merlin and Alexandra formed a strained relationship. It was obvious that Merlin resented her even though she had done nothing. It was her mere presence that was a threat even if Arthur never fell for it. At least she had been accepted by the court.
---
Uther fell ill again during the summer. It shook Uther took his core. Arthur heard his father's rattling breaths from miles away. They stalked him as he walked the corridors and found him when he was hiding in disused rooms. He couldn't escape the wrong feeling even while he was hiding with Merlin in amongst the ruins of a castle from long before Uther's time. It was a slow day and Arthur left Alexandra in charge of everything. Arthur still needed time.
They returned in time for dinner and all three dined together. There was a sense of awkwardness that came along with the resounding knowledge that Alexandra didn't belong here. She was meant for much more grandeur.
"Bruce came to our court in hiding one winter," Alexandra said once the plates had been cleared away and all the servants were gone. A wine jug had been made the centerpiece. "My father knew him long before he came to Flanders to marry my mother. He told us all there was to tell about his war with Edward that we did not already know. He took me aside one night and told me about you two, telling me that you had defied your blood in exchange for your beliefs. He said you lived in sin and I knew what he was asking of me. I agreed to marry you because Robert Bruce was my father's friend and I am glad I agreed to now because I don't think I could ever love anyone. I'm far more happy here away from my old life and I know you only expect a cover story from me."
Arthur knew the outlines of the story already but he never would have expected anything more to be said.
Merlin spoke, "I'm sorry," he said. "Truly."
"I just want the best for you both," she replied. There were tears in her eyes threatening to spill. They were all slightly tipsy, maybe her the most. "Please, just tell me you want the same for me."
Merlin nodded, too dumbfounded to do a thing.
"I need an heir," Alexandra said. The tears spilled over and she knocked her goblet off the table as she stood up. "I'm sorry," she hastened. "I should never have said anything." She left the chamber in a hurry, leaving Arthur staring blankly at the space where she had been sitting.
2.14
The call for Bannockburn came in late June. Arthur left in the night, leaving Merlin behind in his bed. He told a passing guard to tell Alexandra where he was going. Merlin didn't need to be told, he would figure it all out anyway.
Arthur arrived on the eve of his battle. Bruce was staying in New Park, hidden in the safety of the forest. The carse had been prepared, pots dug into the ground with the intent to break the English offence.
A servant took Arthur's horse when he dismounted. He stood up proud, his house crest on his surcoat. By now everyone knew of the betrayals; the few Comyn men who fought on Bruce's side. Arthur was just one of them.
"Arthur," Bruce called when he noticed Arthur nearing him. "I'm honoured to have you here with us." Bruce pulled him into a quick one armed hug.
"I'm honoured to be here."
Bruce looked around, smile fading slightly when he realised Arthur had come alone. "I hope everything is fine. I see no sign of your servant."
Arthur shrugged. "I didn't want him to be here. Just in case something went wrong I wouldn't want him to be around to see that." It was a half truth, Bruce didn't need to know the full reasoning.
He seemed to accept Arthur's answer though. "Well then, I'll let you get back to everything."
---
June twenty second was marked with fierce winds and heavy summer rain. Sun flashed down in cloud breaks when the rain let up for a while.
Joseph, Bedivere's squire, gave a check over Arthur's armour. He was far more kitted out than some of the men in the camp but so far the schiltrons had prove impenetrable bar that one disastrous fight. He had his sword sheathed on his belt and a pike his hand. The sword acted as the good lucky charm, polished by Merlin, it was useless in battle. schiltrons were the only thing that made a Scottish infantry deadly to the English. There was no point in failing that design.
Arthur joined the long ranks of men and waited. There was a moment when they all knelt down to pray, priests standing in front of the lines giving their sermons. The cackling of the English wavered in the distance. How must this look to them?
The battle begun with an execution. Henry de Bohun was split in two by Bruce's battle axe and the English cavalry charged. The Scottish would not fall.
---
Merlin woke to find himself alone. His dreams had tormented him and he could barely remember his name for a few blissful seconds. He was lifeless just then; so condemned to an eternity of suffering that he could feel the strength of the world beneath his fingertips. He wished he could shatter it all.
He dressed in a hurry, grabbed breakfast from the kitchens and saddled up his horse. He knew without asking where Arthur had gone. He would never skip a call from Robert Bruce. Not even if it meant risking everything, just like he had done with Merlin once before.
He rode fast through the orchards. Merlin was stupid and in love, forever chasing a man who was always distancing himself.
The sun was only just passing overhead. The sky above was blue and hot summer sun beamed down, but in the distance grey clouds were looming.
---
The first day of battle saw the English retreat back to their camp across the Bannockburn. The cavalry charge had failed, falling apart due to the pots and constantly being pushed back by the pikemen. The infantry and archers found no place in the fighting. Everything had worked perfectly but there were still more days to come.
---
Merlin was closer to Sterling than he should have been. He had to pass over the edges of the highlands to get where he needed to be. He slept in the forest the night before and carried on travelling when first light hit. He made it to New Park by early afternoon. The remainder of the Scottish camp was there, carry on their duties while the battle roared on.
He gave his horse to a grooms boy who had come forwards. He could just see the backs of the Scottish schiltron advancing forwards. Arthur was some distance away, sitting on his horse and watching the battle unfold. He was in full armour, ready and waiting with the rest of the cavalry for orders.
It was amazing to watch. Merlin couldn't see the English but he had heard stories of what they could do. Scotland's army was made up of peasants and ill trained knights. Yet there they were, standing up against the English like it was nothing.
Arrows came down like rain. Piercing the ground around the schiltron. Bruce shouted something Merlin couldn't hear and the cavalry sprang into action and rode out of sight. Merlin had seen enough when the arrows began to stop falling. He went back to where the camp followers were sitting.
"The English are being crushed," he said. Some turned to look at him while others just carried on what they were doing. "They're being drawn into a trap and the Welsh have stopped their fire."
The servants just looked confused as to why Merlin was telling them this. Their job was to care for the camp, not the fight. "If we go now to their lines then there's no way the English can come back from this. A second army will scare them into a withdraw."
"Aye," one of the blacksmiths said. "He's right. There's every reason that would work."
"Thank you," Merlin said.
A call from the carse came, "Lay on! Lay on! Lay on! They fail!"
Word travelled quick around the camp. The servants made to move, grabbing whatever weapons had been left behind. In a line they ran out the forest and down the slope to the schiltron. There were a hundred or so of them at most. Merlin was surrounded by pushing bodies and suffocating heat. They pushed forwards, each step getting easier, weapons held skywards to fend off against any last attempts. The schiltron broke ranks as the English burst the banks of the Bannockburn.
"They flee!" one of the cavalry men shouted. "The English flee down the banks and over the bodies in the river."
The battle was over. Gradually the men dispersed and victory whoops filled the air.
Arthur jumped down from his horse. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his hair. He was grinning madly, so pleased as having had won.
"Arthur," Merlin shouted across everyone's celebrations. Arthur round and Merlin ran towards him. "You dick," he said when they met in the middle. "You absolutely worthless sod. Don't you ever do that to me again." He pulled Arthur into a tight hug, not caring about the thousands around them or the restraint of armour.
"Your father was worried," her covered. "I was worried."
"God Merlin. I'm fine, really. I am." He stepped backwards to get a better look. "You shouldn't be here. I left you behind for a reason."
"Well it's a shitty reason. You can't just up and leave me like that. You could have been dead."
"Yeah, well," Arthur looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know if we would win," he hastened. "I didn't want you to be here if this was just going to turn out like Falkirk did."
"It would never have been Falkirk."
"But what if it did. I wouldn't be able to have gone through with the battle knowing that you were watching us be destroyed. You would have tried to be all noble and save us. I don't think I could live if you got killed and I had to live on without you." Arthur voice was full of something far more than the shallow reasoning he'd use with his father. It was genuine and heartbreaking the tone he used. It was strange, to think how awkward Arthur was with his affections in the safety of his duchy, but on the battlefield he was far more able to breathe easy.
"You wouldn't let me die," Merlin said.
They walked back to the restless camp. Sun finally shedding some light on New Park and the carse.
2.15
They had taken their time going home, taking a week for a journey that should have been a few days. When they arrived back at the castle everything was still. There were few servants anywhere and the only person who came to greet them was the stable boy appearing to take the horses.
"Where is everyone?" Merlin asked.
Arthur didn't know either. "Maybe they all got fed up and left."
The entrance doors banged open and Alexandra came rushing out. Her dress dragged on the dirty stone.
"Something terrible has happened," she said. "It's your father."
Immediately Arthur knew what she was going to say. Illness came so often to Uther that it was met with quiet worry. "Where is he?" Arthur asked.
"We tried our best. Gaius came to care for him but nothing could help. He's in the old crypt."
---
It had been years since Arthur had ventured into the family crypt. He hadn't been since Igraine had died and her body graced the centre plinth. The body had long since been moved. Her bones were indistinguishable from their ancestors. Most of whom were only distantly related.
His father's body now found its place on the plinth. There was something about his stillness, about the non-existent moving of his chest, that calmed Arthur. Death looked so peaceful. You would never have known that a heart attack had finally taken him.
He looked like a warlord made poetic by the east. His father was old enough to have gone on the last crusade as a boyish knight.
Arthur had fought in wars in France and Scotland both. He had fought for Kings and dukes and then spent his free time in a sin that made him hell bound. Yet none of those things were as terrifying as Uther's lifeless body.
"He gave me so much," Arthur said. He didn't even notice he was speaking until he finished. "Yet all this time I thought I owed him so little. I was wrong. I owe him so much."
"I never thought he'd die like this," Merlin's voice alerted Arthur to his presence. "I always thought it would be something much more noble."
"I could have been killed," Arthur sobbed.
"Arthur," Merlin breathed out. His hand grazed Arthur's shoulder in a soft touch. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You're free now. You're allowed to hurt, but God you're free."
Arthur let out a shaky laugh and tried to wipe away his tears but they just kept coming. "I didn't think it would hurt this bad."
"I know. It's okay. You'll be okay."
"I thought we had years." He shouted, then, "Fuck, fuck I need an heir."
Merlin tensed but he didn't make to leave like he normally would.
"We'll figure something out when we have to. Everything will be alright." They both knew the answer to all their problems.
"Yes," Arthur said. He moved Merlin's hand to rest on his cheek. "We'll think of something. We always do."
3
With morning sun they went home. Merlin was distant and Arthur couldn’t place what it could be. Was is what Bruce had said that caused him so much strife? They rode for a week, taking days for a journey that should have taken hours. Despite the slowness to their movements they rode like the fire that once lived in their hearts. The disjointed wind calmed their nerves before the creeping sun set them off again. They were desperate to find where they belonged. In Moray it was all over. A wound that ached before the arrow even left the bow. Scars had already been formed.
Neared to the castle they repeated their teenage years underneath the watch of an apple tree. They picked the last of the Autumn fruits, just beginning to turn, and the few berries left on the bushes. Merlin’s mouth was stained red. The colour seeping out like blood from the cracks on his lips.
He tasted like the cold and remnants of fruit. Arthur held him close for far too long. Merlin was all types of unholy but Arthur was the sin so bitter sweet.
He didn’t need to say anything when he readied to leave. The promises and “I love you”’s hung in the air.
---
The castle was colder than the outside upon their return. The courtyard had stood still for them as whispers carried fast. Arthur saw movement in Morgana’s window. A shift in the curtains that gave away what Arthur had managed.
They made it to his chambers without being ambushed by his father or a servant once. He half expected a priest to jump out from behind a pillar and flick holy water at him. Latin was a language Arthur learned young. It didn’t mean he wanted the nostalgia of having it shouted at him in means of retribution.
Everything was in slow motion and bleeding out into the sun.
Merlin looked so much paler. There was determination stuck fast in his eyes but his fingers gave it away as he fidgeted.
“You stay here when my father comes,” Arthur heard himself say. When had he gotten so brave? So cowardly? “Bolt the door behind me. I’ll be back.”
“There’s no denying it,” Merlin managed to sound only slightly less bitter than he probably was.
“It will be okay. I’m not going to let them take you.”
Because, in the end, that’s what it came down to. Arthur could have his title renounced, his blood ties denied and his lands taken. Merlin would be burned. Greater men had been killed for lesser crimes.
Arthur carried. His voice still betraying him but he stopped caring. “I would rather die than live a second without you. Don’t you let yourself think for a second that I would ever just let you go.”
A shuddering breath arose from Merlin. Great heaves of his shoulders as he tried to regain composure. “I don’t,” he weakly said. “That’s what I’m scared of.”
Arthur ran his hands up Merlin’s arms. He felt the heat of lean muscle beneath one of Arthur’s own old shirts.
“I missed being able to touch you,” Merlin whispered, his eye not leaving Arthur’s face. “God I missed you so much. I always miss you.”
“I thought you hated me.”
Merlin smiled. “I do. I hate your arrogance and the way your voice is always stuck in my head. I hate how easily I let myself weave into your life. And I wouldn’t dare try trading you for all the land in the world.”
“I’d start a crusade just to get you back. I’d tell them all you were my Jerusalem.”
There was something that went unspoken. The softest glint of recognition on Merlin’s face. “I know,” he said earnestly. “I’d let you start all those wars and I’ll be there by your side making sure you win them all.”
Something settled inside Arthur’s gut. The odd feeling of familiarity that came far too often when Merlin was around. It wasn’t nostalgia; there was no yearning for something he could remember but there was the fear and anxiety associated with it. The awkward feeling of Arthur having lost something without knowing what it could be. His mind cleared and he could think of only one thing to say, “I’ll burn bridges.”
Without missing anything Merlin responded, “I’ll burn more.”
A knock came down firm on the door. Arthur dropped his hold of Merlin and stepped away.
“Come in,” he called.
The servant who came in was one Arthur had never seen before. He didn’t look at Merlin or him fully and kept his eyes glued to his feet instead. “Your father requests you and your servant’s presence, my lord.”
He was gone before Arthur could give an answer. The door slammed shut.
---
“You two,” Uther seethed. “Have brought shame to this family.”
Arthur said, “It can’t be that bad. We were only gone a week at best.”
“It doesn’t matter how long you were gone but rather why you were gone.”
“We fought for what we saw as right-”
“You know damn well that that is not what this is about.” The sound of Uther's voice was enough to stop Arthur dead in his tracks. This was it. This was what the build up of Arthur's life had come to. Any sort of doubt he held was lost. Uther held Merlin and Arthur's lives in the balance. One slip of Arthur's word meant Uther's hand coming down. No amount of repent would stave off Uther's anger.
But Uther settled back again. He pressed his back flush against the wood of his chair. His let his arms relax just enough to reconsider the tension.
"Your sister has reason to believe that this is all just insolence. A belated form of childhood rebellion. I hope to God that you have something to say about this."
Morgana was a lifesaver. They had barely spoken in the recent months- she was too caught up in her rooms, her sickness and her marriage and Arthur was caught up in everything else. In adolescence they had never seen eye to eye but as they grew older things changed between the two them. Their morals evened out and their lives grew more complicated. The solace of an unburdened alliance was needed more than memories of their fights as children.
Arthur's lack of response gave away what little truth there was left to tell but Uther chose to ignore it anyway. He drove on with the conversation.
"You should just consider yourselves lucky that the stories only spread as far as the servants' quarters. If it got beyond the walls I don't know what repercussions would have come out of this."
But there were repercussions. There would always be repercussions.
Uther let a frailing finger point at Merlin. "And you," his voice began to rise again. "I knew since I had appointed you his servant that I had made a grave mistake. Your mother served us well but all you have ever done has caused us nothing but trouble. You have done and continue to belittle our authority, overstep your position and knowingly choose to take advantage of my son's fragile nature."
"I'm not fragile-"
"Be quiet!" Arthur flinched. Dust began to settle.
Merlin spoke, his voice causing cracks to form in the sky. The light of him came through then, having travelled for centuries across the stars.
"My lord, I believe we have already been punished for our actions. I feel as if the weight of my sins has already been lifted like smoke off my shoulders. We have all already fought in unlegendary wars and yet we choose to add another to this list."
Something callus flashed in Uther's eyes. It was Merlin's voice speaking but the words sounded nothing like him.
"I think the Gods have seen it so we all carry on unburdened. Why else would we live so freely now? Why else would I?"
Gods.
"Without repercussions beyond now," Uther muttered. Gone was his anger. Instead it had been replaced with an unmistakable age. Uther looked so tired.
There were always going to be repercussions.
Merlin stood stoic in front of Arthur. When he had moved Arthur didn't know. It was almost as if this moment was always happening. The warm contentedness that filled Arthur's brain with calm left him stalling. Beneath this layer was something else entirely. By God it was only know. Maybe also Merlin, whose smiles conveyed more than just secrets. He was just so good at keeping things from Arthur. He was a shield and Arthur was far too noble to need one.
"I'll be married come Autumn." The words fell from his mouth before he could think. He was tying rocks to his ankles, too caught up in his own descent that he barely noticed Merlin flinch. He held his breath, count down from ten and tried to re imagine what had just happened.
Arthur had changed everything. The ruthless surrounding his father had dispersed. Left in its place felt like ancient regrets. Of all the things his father could have shown to Arthur, it had to be regret.
Arthur was out the door before anyone had spoke. Behind him Merlin stumbled drunkenly, slowly pulling all the strings together. Upon closing the door he could have sworn he heard his father say, "You may go."
Too late. It was always too damn late.
"Go back to my chambers," Arthur said, trying to regain some of the control he had lost. "Wait there for me."
All of this walking through empty spaces was beginning to get old.
---
Morgana's rooms were not at all like Arthur's. They were light and airy, dressed in pale blues and lilacs. There were no hard lines like Arthur's chambers, but soft floating fabrics and a curved outer wall. It had been months since he had spent time with her and longer still since he had visited their mother's grave. He had been too caught up in Merlin and the progression of the war. The consequences had proved fatal.
Morgana's chambers reminded Arthur of all the things that, technically, should have made the castle home. They reminded him of childhood feuds with Morgana, the games he played with her and their brothers, of Igraine's laughter dancing in his ears. That wasn't home, though, no matter how hard he tried to make it so. And good God, did he try. It wasn't the memories or the people who he knew in childhood, but Merlin, who always managed to taste like summer fruit and kiss like bitter wine. He was a grand old thing, brought up to serve and not achieve. It was him and the alcove where they had been caught, the apple tree which held together their secrets in its roots, and the safe, Godless world they had made for themselves. That was what Arthur knew as home.
It didn't make Morgana any less important to him. She was nothing like Arthur's memories of her. Gone was her care free nature, her resilient desire to do right had weathered with the passing years, and her hands slowly began to shake. She had lost her hard shell but kept a small sense of her authority. She was sick with something no healer could diagnose. It left her confined to her bed for half the year and was, perhaps, the only household secret more well kept than Arthur's. Today was a good day for her. Her face set with stern lines set Uther's to shame. The quiet malice set everyone up to fall back down to their knees.
He wanted to get this all over with and pretend so badly that Morgana was normal. The debilitating sickness might not have kept her held down today, but every word she spoke resonated with her rattling breath.
Arthur couldn't take it any more. The bittersweet sensation would leave him the sooner he spoke. "Thank you," he said. "For what you did for us."
Sat in front of her vanity she was already distracted; too busy running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame what already was. "What did I do?" she asked.
"You made our father forgive me."
She hummed sweetly and shook her head. "It can't have been." She looked at Arthur's reflection. "I haven't spoken to him for days. Not since you left, I've been all torn up."
Oh, well.
Morgana had been gone for a long time. She was always there in front of Arthur but in reality she was absent from herself. She couldn't convey to anyone else what was happening inside of her head and it ruined her. It was possible that she just forgot that she had ever spoken to Uther. But she always looked so distant when she was confused and today was the only day she had ever looked with any certainty. They were deafening, the quiet facts than begun to reveal themselves one by one.
"Well, I hope you find you peace."
Morgana nodded in acceptance and then went on to ignore Arthur standing there in the mirror. He left, ready to wander the corridors once again until he found himself.
---
Merlin was waiting in Arthur's bedchamber. He was sat on the bed-fires lit, candles set to take over for the sun when night fell-fidgeting with his sleeves.
"Morgana says she didn't tell father anything," Arthur said once he closed the door. Merlin looked blank. "She hasn't even spoken to him for days."
"Maybe she was just confused."
Arthur shook his head. "I've never seen her look more certain in my life. You remember, when we were children we used too-"
"I wasn't there. And anyway, certainty in the insane shouldn't be gospel truth."
"She's not insane."
"You know what, she might as well be."
"Merlin."
"It would explain a lot of things. No wonder your father's so keen to have her married off."
"Merlin!"
Merlin stopped. "What?" he looked at Arthur and then, immediately said, "I'm sorry, I overstepped."
"Why would she lie to me?"
Merlin fell apart underneath the slightest of blows. This was not one of them.
"You know she doesn't look anything like your mother. Then there's you, looking so sweet, just like her. The curve of your jaw, the way you smile, how you hold yourself. It's all so much like your mother. Sometimes I forget who Morgana is, but I can see it in her eyes who she is. The two of you look nothing alike except from the angle of your eyes."
"I think you should leave, Merlin."
Merlin opened and closed his mouth as if he meant to speak, hands hanging limply after being stopped mid conversation. He pulled himself together, stood up and made to exit, but not before biting out a stiff, "My lord," by way of leaving.
2.11
A year after that late Autumn came the end of Arthur's time. Before that there was summer than Spring. Further back still there was the first real winter of the new year.
In the orchard, long after the leaves had parted from the trees, sat beside the ground where the apple tree once held strong was where Arthur found Merlin.
Snow covered the ground, but there were shallow pits surrounding the few evergreens. Merlin was sat with his body pressed into the leaves, hiding from the weather.
"You shouldn't leave the castle when it's like this, you'll catch your death."
"I'll take my chances," Merlin said. His eyes were closed and his head tilted up, gazing wistfully, without seeing, to the heavens.
"You'd make a terrible tactician. You can't take chances with your health like that in wars."
Merlin laughed, a sharp sound that turned the knife in Arthur's stomach. Thing had been tense since they returned to the castle months ago. Neither one of them had tried to fix what was lost and instead went on pretending that nothing had ever changed. It was Arthur's duty to apologise; he had dragged Merlin down with him.
"You'd make a terrible knight," Merlin smiled. He opened his eyes just enough to squint at Arthur. "At least I can make my own decisions."
It was all so backwards. The idea of what they had become to one another. Sharp jokes that held no humour. Comments pulled from the air, meant to maim but only leaving nail marks. Forwards, Arthur pushed. He had so much to lose but it was already beginning to become lost.
For the two weeks following they stumbled together, half-heartedly clinging to each other to pass the time away. Winter solstice had left them locked in Arthur's chambers amidst another worthless argument. The walls and floor were cold, but the fire was warm, the food was too, and the bed beckoned them from its new positions in front of the fireplace.
Arthur's mind was still caught up in Uther and Morgana, and whatever Merlin had been trying to say to him but he didn't want to suffer through what peaceful time they had left. The fight had paused while the snow fell down, and the snow wouldn’t stop falling.
One afternoon the castle stood still, all signs of life gone bar the smoke from the fires. They were in Arthur's chambers waiting out the storm. Stuck in the bed, seeking refuge from the cold.
"I'm still convinced you could be King," Merlin mumbled sleepily, his voice croaking from lack of use. His chest was pressed against the mattress but he was looking at Arthur. He was squinting in the low light and his hair stood up in tufts.
"Maybe," Arthur replied.
Merlin smiled slow and sweet, candle light catching in his eyes and the fire warming his hair from jet black to golden brown.
"Definitely, just not yet. One day you'll be a great King and I'll be by your side the whole way." Merlin ran his fingers over Arthur's.
Merlin had already given Arthur everything he had; his loyalty, his love and his trust. He was so completely committed that there was nothing left of him to give. Arthur couldn't say he had done the same. He loved Merlin wholey-no matter how bruised or broken he was-and he would give his last breath to him if he had to. He would give up the world for Merlin, who was a shining beacon of hope amongst all of the change. What Merlin wanted was nothing short of treason. A joking treason, the sort left only half thought through and never entirely honest.
"I would be a terrible King," he said for maybe the thousandth time. He moved the hand Merlin wasn't holding so he could touch Merlin's face. He stopped short at the temple and grazed the cheekbones with the rough skin of his thumb. It was barely a touch, nothing close to the apology still needed, but it was something. It was enough for now.
2.12
It was tragic to love someone so much for so long and yet to feel as if you did not know them completely.
---
In late August of that same year a messenger came bearing the crest of a Flemish house. Arthur's marriage was to be postponed; war had broken out in his home country and it wasn't feasible to think of moving his future with at such a time. There was still no word of who she was.
---
In April news of Bruce’s return to Scotland came in the form of Bedivere. This time Arthur and Merlin left the castle with full knowledge of where they would be going. No longer would fear of Uther's actions stay Arthur's thoughts. His loyalties could not be moved and his father grew to accept it. Arthur saw no reason to fight about it any longer.
They travelled the country first, drawing support from men and meeting with Bruce when they could. Bedivere kept Arthur on the straight and narrow when Merlin was around. It was for the best. There was no time for distractions even when the need for speedy movements had long since passed. Scotland was still a country in the throes of war. Arthur fought with Bedivere and Bruce at Glentrool. He didn't see Merlin for the entire fight, but there was blood on his sword and bruises on his side when they found each other again. They captured Inverlochy and Urquhart and watched as Inverness and Nairn were raised to the ground, fire warming their hands.
By Banff Bruce fell ill and Arthur found himself briefly lost. He travelled west with Bedivere and Merlin in Bruce's absence to do what they could. Bruce's recovery was a miracle and he rode on to take Balvenie and Duffus. Things changed from that point. He rampaged the lands once he got to Moray, spilling Blood on the ground Arthur played on.
He watched with guilt in his heart as Bruce murdered all who he loved as a child. He closed out their screams and stayed his tongue. He rode at the back of the knights, as far from the blood as he could get.
It was near his father's own estate that he began to grow nervous. They passed through the orchards that held the remnants of his secrets. The apple tree had been cut down a long time ago to make way for something that would never be build. All that remained was a thin stump.
They neared the castle when Arthur spoke. "My father, he means you no harm. He will put up no arms against us. He will respect you as I do, even if his family loyalties keep him from liking you."
It didn't work. The small army rode on into the courtyard. Arthur had nothing left to say. His father was already descending the steps and before Arthur knew it Uther was kneeling in front of Bruce, head bowed in surrender. His hands shook. He looked like he was kneeling to pray.
There was long moment in which Arthur's world teetered on the edge of a cliff. How far would his loyalty have stretched had he known that Bruce would have done something like this?
Bruce's voice cut across the icy silence. It was a noise heard around the world. "You will be spared, for your son's loyalty if nothing else."
Bruce turned his horse and began to leave. He nodded as he passed Arthur. Bedivere said his goodbye when the rest of the flank had gone.
Bruce travelled onto Argyll as Arthur stayed behind with his father and so too did Merlin, ever the loyalist.
---
They were left alone for year in the knowledge that one day Arthur would be called upon to fight. The marriage was constantly postponed and rearranged, but Arthur finally knew a name. Alexandra, the third daughter of a Flemish Duke. She was younger than Arthur by years and he had seen one portrait. She was pale, brown braided hair just visible beneath the veil. She had round hazel eyes and a delicate mouth that showed little expression bar the slightest of smiles.
She was certainly beautiful. Arthur would be quite the envy of the nobility once the wedding finally went ahead. Arthur was dreading it. With each passing day it got closer, no matter how much it had to be pushed back. Time would not always be on his side.
---
Edward II, son of the old English King, was inaugurated in February. He held no quarry for Scotland beyond minor annoyance.
---
In the winter of 1308 Uther grew sick. A lung infection burdened him and his breath came out in forced shudders. He was confined to his bed by a monk named Gaius who was called upon to help. He worked herbs and plants into pastes that looked ghastly but were said to cure all ills.
Arthur had been so used to spending his time with Merlin and occasionally performing noble duties such as patrols and hunts that he had almost forgot all his lessons on keeping the duchy. He acted lord while Uther was bed bound. Merlin stood further away from Arthur while the stress overtook him.
The winter was harsh. Blizzards hit hard against the grey skies. Snow was thick and stubborn on the ground, refusing to move or fade away. Uther's room was kept the warmest out of all bar the kitchens. His lungs were full of fluid and his heart beat slow to a Roman victory march. He carried on in ill health despite the burden of breathing.
---
In the days following the new year Merlin fell ill. Arthur found him collapsed on the floor, breath something out in wheezes and sweating like it was high summer. Arthur carried Merlin to his bed and left him in the care of one of the few guards that Arthur actually trusted.
He rode with haste to Gaius's monastery. Gaius didn't take much prompting to journey back with Arthur but he was impatient with Arthur's need for speed.
"There's no need to hurry, my boy. I'm sure your servant is in good enough health for us to take out time," he said while Arthur stuttered about impatiently on his horse.
"You will hurry," he insisted.
Gaius stiffened but nodded. There might have been a muttering about the insolence of youth but nothing else slipped by Arthur.
They were back at the castle within record time but it still seemed far too slow for Arthur's liking. Gaius only needed to take one look around Arthur's chambers upon entering when a sudden slackness overcame his face. He worked quickly, tending to Merlin's illness without a hitch as if realising the reason for Arthur's haste.
When he was down he turned to Arthur and told him what had to be done in order to keep Merlin recovering.
"I can make my own way back from here, my lord. I have travelled this road many times in my life." No-one but Merlin had ever quite managed to say "my lord" in the manner that Gaius did. The tremblings of fear rocked Arthur's body.
"Thank you," was all Arthur found he was able to say. He was too busy keeping to Merlin and trying to hide in plain sight than to manage anything more than a quick clasp of Gaius' outstretched hand.
Gaius hesitated before leaving, as if he had forgotten how he was meant to open the door and walk away from the scene. "I will pray for him," Gaius said. "I will pray for the both of you." He was out the door in a flurry of robes and the soft slam of the chamber door.
Was he always so obvious?
---
Uther got back to good health soon after Merlin fell ill. It left Arthur with nothing to do but sit tight in his chambers, making sure Merlin was comfortable. When the appeal of that fell through Arthur sought something to make himself forget how wrong Merlin looked he threw himself into helping his father. He awaited the day the duchy would be his as much as he dreaded it.
Merlin was back to his usual charming, unpunctual self in less than a heartbeat on the eleventh day of the year, much to Arthur's visual distress. He'd have much preferred it if Merlin stayed in bed for longer just to ensure that all sickness was gone from his body.
---
Arthur's marriage was finally brought forwards to June of 1309. He spent Spring restless, tied up in his love for Merlin that each day broke his heart more. There were no grievances meant, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell. The final days before Alexandra arrived for the wedding Arthur spent deep within the forests. He was hunting for the feast but he only took Merlin with him. They let themselves by whole together for a few brief moments during which time slowed down. They left the forest, prizes slung over their shoulders, ready and unwilling to get back to their changing lives.
The actual wedding was a far more lavish affair than Morgana's had been. Tapestries were hung around the castle and the great hall was full of people and foliage. It was a gorgeous occasion; enough to rival a royal wedding.
Alexandra was even more stunning in real life. She wore a pale green wedding gown decorated in jewels and pearls, made by the finest tailors in her Kingdom. The war in her country had somehow spared her family's riches. She was here to impress. She spoke English perfectly and her Scottish was only slightly a botched attempt. She said her vows more fluently than Arthur, as though she had been practising instead racked with fear. This was the first time met. The portrait of her was never any easy thing to know.
At the feast she spoke pleasantly and never out of term. It was so unusual for Arthur. He was so used to spending time with Merlin that the propriety was foreign.
Merlin slipped out of the feast as soon as it began to wind down. Alexandra was taken away to her new chambers (which had been Morgana's first) to get ready. Arthur had fooled himself into forgetting about the consummation. He left soon after to find Merlin.
It was in Arthur's bed chambers that he found him. Merlin had refused to look Arthur in the eye for the entire feast. He was almost missed the ceremony if it hadn't been for Uther's manservant dragging a kicking Merlin into the room. Merlin was sitting on Arthur's bed.
"You should get ready," he said before Arthur could get a word in. Arthur just let it all happen.
Gradually Merlin removed all of Arthur's clothes and replaced them with his finest night robes. His touches lingered unconsciously but he still wouldn't look at Arthur fully.
"You could at least say something to me," Arthur said.
Merlin glared. "You'll be fine." He brushed the wrinkles out of the shirt and stepped back. He nodded, admiring his fine work and made to leave.
"Merlin," Arthur called when he realise what Merlin was doing. He slipped out into the hall behind him. "Merlin," he called again. It only made Merlin walk faster. "Merlin, stop running away."
Arthur ran down the corridor, grabbed Merlin by the shoulder and hurled him round. "What is you problem?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
Merlin huffed. "You're married," he said. "How could you think nothing would change?"
"That's what this is about?" Arthur couldn't help laughing. Merlin at least had the decency to look sheepish.
"...No."
"You were there when we planned this out."
"She's royalty."
"That changes nothing about how I feel. Dear God, don't let yourself think for one second that it would be anyone other than you. I'd rather have you over anyone but this is the only chance we have."
"I can't believe you'd have married me over her," Merlin gasped out in disbelief.
"I'd marry you over anyone if I were allowed. You're better than them all."
Merlin closed his eyes and sighed. The corridor was quiet except from the distant sound of festivities. "You still have to go," Merlin said. He opened his eyes again and finally met Arthur's.
"I know. I don't know what I'm going to do. But I'll be back to you before the night is over."
---
Arthur didn't come back. Merlin stayed up all night waiting.
2.13
For five years they lived a quiet life. Alexandra fitting more into the background running of things while Arthur tried to balance his time between them, giving Merlin far more time than he should have done.
One by one Arthur's brothers had either married or left to become mercenaries, a true sign that the times were changing much faster than Arthur would have liked. His father hadn't been seriously ill for a long time, but he looked frail and the dark circles under his eyes were a constant. Arthur was going to need an heir soon, a thought that plagued him always.
There were years before the world would come to that point. He had time to adjust to the idea of ever having to share anything with anyone other than Merlin. People were already speaking about the lack of an heir but when his father died word of something being wrong would spread sooner rather than later. It would be years more still until people began to speak of the rumours that once plagued him-the rumours dispelled by his marriage.
Merlin and Alexandra formed a strained relationship. It was obvious that Merlin resented her even though she had done nothing. It was her mere presence that was a threat even if Arthur never fell for it. At least she had been accepted by the court.
---
Uther fell ill again during the summer. It shook Uther took his core. Arthur heard his father's rattling breaths from miles away. They stalked him as he walked the corridors and found him when he was hiding in disused rooms. He couldn't escape the wrong feeling even while he was hiding with Merlin in amongst the ruins of a castle from long before Uther's time. It was a slow day and Arthur left Alexandra in charge of everything. Arthur still needed time.
They returned in time for dinner and all three dined together. There was a sense of awkwardness that came along with the resounding knowledge that Alexandra didn't belong here. She was meant for much more grandeur.
"Bruce came to our court in hiding one winter," Alexandra said once the plates had been cleared away and all the servants were gone. A wine jug had been made the centerpiece. "My father knew him long before he came to Flanders to marry my mother. He told us all there was to tell about his war with Edward that we did not already know. He took me aside one night and told me about you two, telling me that you had defied your blood in exchange for your beliefs. He said you lived in sin and I knew what he was asking of me. I agreed to marry you because Robert Bruce was my father's friend and I am glad I agreed to now because I don't think I could ever love anyone. I'm far more happy here away from my old life and I know you only expect a cover story from me."
Arthur knew the outlines of the story already but he never would have expected anything more to be said.
Merlin spoke, "I'm sorry," he said. "Truly."
"I just want the best for you both," she replied. There were tears in her eyes threatening to spill. They were all slightly tipsy, maybe her the most. "Please, just tell me you want the same for me."
Merlin nodded, too dumbfounded to do a thing.
"I need an heir," Alexandra said. The tears spilled over and she knocked her goblet off the table as she stood up. "I'm sorry," she hastened. "I should never have said anything." She left the chamber in a hurry, leaving Arthur staring blankly at the space where she had been sitting.
2.14
The call for Bannockburn came in late June. Arthur left in the night, leaving Merlin behind in his bed. He told a passing guard to tell Alexandra where he was going. Merlin didn't need to be told, he would figure it all out anyway.
Arthur arrived on the eve of his battle. Bruce was staying in New Park, hidden in the safety of the forest. The carse had been prepared, pots dug into the ground with the intent to break the English offence.
A servant took Arthur's horse when he dismounted. He stood up proud, his house crest on his surcoat. By now everyone knew of the betrayals; the few Comyn men who fought on Bruce's side. Arthur was just one of them.
"Arthur," Bruce called when he noticed Arthur nearing him. "I'm honoured to have you here with us." Bruce pulled him into a quick one armed hug.
"I'm honoured to be here."
Bruce looked around, smile fading slightly when he realised Arthur had come alone. "I hope everything is fine. I see no sign of your servant."
Arthur shrugged. "I didn't want him to be here. Just in case something went wrong I wouldn't want him to be around to see that." It was a half truth, Bruce didn't need to know the full reasoning.
He seemed to accept Arthur's answer though. "Well then, I'll let you get back to everything."
---
June twenty second was marked with fierce winds and heavy summer rain. Sun flashed down in cloud breaks when the rain let up for a while.
Joseph, Bedivere's squire, gave a check over Arthur's armour. He was far more kitted out than some of the men in the camp but so far the schiltrons had prove impenetrable bar that one disastrous fight. He had his sword sheathed on his belt and a pike his hand. The sword acted as the good lucky charm, polished by Merlin, it was useless in battle. schiltrons were the only thing that made a Scottish infantry deadly to the English. There was no point in failing that design.
Arthur joined the long ranks of men and waited. There was a moment when they all knelt down to pray, priests standing in front of the lines giving their sermons. The cackling of the English wavered in the distance. How must this look to them?
The battle begun with an execution. Henry de Bohun was split in two by Bruce's battle axe and the English cavalry charged. The Scottish would not fall.
---
Merlin woke to find himself alone. His dreams had tormented him and he could barely remember his name for a few blissful seconds. He was lifeless just then; so condemned to an eternity of suffering that he could feel the strength of the world beneath his fingertips. He wished he could shatter it all.
He dressed in a hurry, grabbed breakfast from the kitchens and saddled up his horse. He knew without asking where Arthur had gone. He would never skip a call from Robert Bruce. Not even if it meant risking everything, just like he had done with Merlin once before.
He rode fast through the orchards. Merlin was stupid and in love, forever chasing a man who was always distancing himself.
The sun was only just passing overhead. The sky above was blue and hot summer sun beamed down, but in the distance grey clouds were looming.
---
The first day of battle saw the English retreat back to their camp across the Bannockburn. The cavalry charge had failed, falling apart due to the pots and constantly being pushed back by the pikemen. The infantry and archers found no place in the fighting. Everything had worked perfectly but there were still more days to come.
---
Merlin was closer to Sterling than he should have been. He had to pass over the edges of the highlands to get where he needed to be. He slept in the forest the night before and carried on travelling when first light hit. He made it to New Park by early afternoon. The remainder of the Scottish camp was there, carry on their duties while the battle roared on.
He gave his horse to a grooms boy who had come forwards. He could just see the backs of the Scottish schiltron advancing forwards. Arthur was some distance away, sitting on his horse and watching the battle unfold. He was in full armour, ready and waiting with the rest of the cavalry for orders.
It was amazing to watch. Merlin couldn't see the English but he had heard stories of what they could do. Scotland's army was made up of peasants and ill trained knights. Yet there they were, standing up against the English like it was nothing.
Arrows came down like rain. Piercing the ground around the schiltron. Bruce shouted something Merlin couldn't hear and the cavalry sprang into action and rode out of sight. Merlin had seen enough when the arrows began to stop falling. He went back to where the camp followers were sitting.
"The English are being crushed," he said. Some turned to look at him while others just carried on what they were doing. "They're being drawn into a trap and the Welsh have stopped their fire."
The servants just looked confused as to why Merlin was telling them this. Their job was to care for the camp, not the fight. "If we go now to their lines then there's no way the English can come back from this. A second army will scare them into a withdraw."
"Aye," one of the blacksmiths said. "He's right. There's every reason that would work."
"Thank you," Merlin said.
A call from the carse came, "Lay on! Lay on! Lay on! They fail!"
Word travelled quick around the camp. The servants made to move, grabbing whatever weapons had been left behind. In a line they ran out the forest and down the slope to the schiltron. There were a hundred or so of them at most. Merlin was surrounded by pushing bodies and suffocating heat. They pushed forwards, each step getting easier, weapons held skywards to fend off against any last attempts. The schiltron broke ranks as the English burst the banks of the Bannockburn.
"They flee!" one of the cavalry men shouted. "The English flee down the banks and over the bodies in the river."
The battle was over. Gradually the men dispersed and victory whoops filled the air.
Arthur jumped down from his horse. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked his hair. He was grinning madly, so pleased as having had won.
"Arthur," Merlin shouted across everyone's celebrations. Arthur round and Merlin ran towards him. "You dick," he said when they met in the middle. "You absolutely worthless sod. Don't you ever do that to me again." He pulled Arthur into a tight hug, not caring about the thousands around them or the restraint of armour.
"Your father was worried," her covered. "I was worried."
"God Merlin. I'm fine, really. I am." He stepped backwards to get a better look. "You shouldn't be here. I left you behind for a reason."
"Well it's a shitty reason. You can't just up and leave me like that. You could have been dead."
"Yeah, well," Arthur looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know if we would win," he hastened. "I didn't want you to be here if this was just going to turn out like Falkirk did."
"It would never have been Falkirk."
"But what if it did. I wouldn't be able to have gone through with the battle knowing that you were watching us be destroyed. You would have tried to be all noble and save us. I don't think I could live if you got killed and I had to live on without you." Arthur voice was full of something far more than the shallow reasoning he'd use with his father. It was genuine and heartbreaking the tone he used. It was strange, to think how awkward Arthur was with his affections in the safety of his duchy, but on the battlefield he was far more able to breathe easy.
"You wouldn't let me die," Merlin said.
They walked back to the restless camp. Sun finally shedding some light on New Park and the carse.
2.15
They had taken their time going home, taking a week for a journey that should have been a few days. When they arrived back at the castle everything was still. There were few servants anywhere and the only person who came to greet them was the stable boy appearing to take the horses.
"Where is everyone?" Merlin asked.
Arthur didn't know either. "Maybe they all got fed up and left."
The entrance doors banged open and Alexandra came rushing out. Her dress dragged on the dirty stone.
"Something terrible has happened," she said. "It's your father."
Immediately Arthur knew what she was going to say. Illness came so often to Uther that it was met with quiet worry. "Where is he?" Arthur asked.
"We tried our best. Gaius came to care for him but nothing could help. He's in the old crypt."
---
It had been years since Arthur had ventured into the family crypt. He hadn't been since Igraine had died and her body graced the centre plinth. The body had long since been moved. Her bones were indistinguishable from their ancestors. Most of whom were only distantly related.
His father's body now found its place on the plinth. There was something about his stillness, about the non-existent moving of his chest, that calmed Arthur. Death looked so peaceful. You would never have known that a heart attack had finally taken him.
He looked like a warlord made poetic by the east. His father was old enough to have gone on the last crusade as a boyish knight.
Arthur had fought in wars in France and Scotland both. He had fought for Kings and dukes and then spent his free time in a sin that made him hell bound. Yet none of those things were as terrifying as Uther's lifeless body.
"He gave me so much," Arthur said. He didn't even notice he was speaking until he finished. "Yet all this time I thought I owed him so little. I was wrong. I owe him so much."
"I never thought he'd die like this," Merlin's voice alerted Arthur to his presence. "I always thought it would be something much more noble."
"I could have been killed," Arthur sobbed.
"Arthur," Merlin breathed out. His hand grazed Arthur's shoulder in a soft touch. "It's okay. It's not your fault. You're free now. You're allowed to hurt, but God you're free."
Arthur let out a shaky laugh and tried to wipe away his tears but they just kept coming. "I didn't think it would hurt this bad."
"I know. It's okay. You'll be okay."
"I thought we had years." He shouted, then, "Fuck, fuck I need an heir."
Merlin tensed but he didn't make to leave like he normally would.
"We'll figure something out when we have to. Everything will be alright." They both knew the answer to all their problems.
"Yes," Arthur said. He moved Merlin's hand to rest on his cheek. "We'll think of something. We always do."
3