Merlin Fanfiction: Love As Thou Wilt | Part 6b
The carriage ride up to the castle is silent; Merlin peeking out through the curtains as it steadily draws closer. Arthur mostly tells their story, Merlin adding a bit here and there, but mostly lost in thought on what he needs to say. Juliana believes him, but would Morgana de la Pendragon believe him?
They ride into a little used side courtyard of the eastern wing of the castle. The guards in red cloaks and silver mail help them out. Merlin looks closely and sees a small ring on each pinky finger of them. “They’re Morgana’s personal guard, handpicked and completely loyal to her. They can be trusted,” Juliana says in a lowered voice to him.
The guards search them for weapons. Gwaine hands over a dagger, and Arthur slowly relinquishes his sword. Merlin can only protest as they try to take the Pictish dagger in the sack that holds the only proof of their journey. “I’ll hold onto it,” Juliana says, nodding to the guards.
They nod and allow them through. Merlin blinks as the light dims and it takes him a second to realize where he is and who exactly is in the room. He has seen Morgana from a distance, but up close, she is still as coolly beautiful as he remembers. Eyes like still silent pools, her pale skin glows in the candle light, her dark locks coifed and pinned up in a fashionable style. The green dress is in fashion as well, though the dagger at her waist isn’t.
She is seated in a small throne-like chair, watching them calmly as they approach. The knight behind her shifts, keeping his eyes on them as they approach as well and if Arthur makes a noise at the sight of the man, he remains composed.
“Your highness,” Juliana says, curtsying.
Morgana nods, “Who have you brought?” Merlin looks at her and can see that she already knows who they are.
“Merlin nó Emrys, Knight Arthur du Bois,” Morgana’s eyes briefly flick to Arthur and then back to Juliana, “and Gwaine de Ganis,” Juliana finishes, using Gwaine’s full name. How she knew it, Merlin doesn’t know, but he hears Gwaine’s snort from behind his left shoulder.
Morgana nods again to Juliana and then fixes her eyes on Merlin, “You are accused of killing Kilgharrah nó Emrys, a man oath sworn to the Pendragon crown. How do you plead, warlock?”
Merlin straightens, “In the name of the Queen’s Draca, her only born, I bring this message. When the Red Hart rules in Hibernia, the Fisher King will accede.” The vaulting room echoes with his words.
Morgana is silent for a moment, before nodding again, “I already know this from the Admiral. Is that all you have to say?”
Merlin shakes his head. “No, I am here to say I am innocent. Petit’s messenger found Arthur and I at the tattooists and asked us to deliver the message. He said that the house was being watched and so was he. When we got there, everyone was dead, except…except Freya. She was still alive. She died in my arms,” Merlin says softly. Shaking himself, Merlin continues. “You have been betrayed your highness by those you have placed much trust in. Duc Valiant d’Alene plots for the throne and conspires with Selises Arrœk, the Pictish warlord and plans an invasion. They plan to betray D’Alene. They will succeed unless we can stop them,” Merlin says, looking Morgana in the eye.
Morgana’s face gives nothing away to her thoughts, though it is paler than before. “You charge Duc D’Alene, hero of Camelot and Escetia with this crime?” she asks.
Merlin shakes his head, “Not just him. Nimueh de l’Isle as well, who is his ally. She was the one who betrayed Kilgharrah and it is her letters to Arrœk that have assured his victory.”
Morgana is silent as she studies them. Finally she stirs, “Tell me everything you claim to have seen.” And so they do, starting from their desperate flight to the house from the tattooists and to their escape and flight from the Picts and their exhausted return back to Camelot. Morgana sits silent through it all. They show her their proof, the clothing and weapons that they had with them. Gwaine testifies to the condition that he found them in, half-starved and filthy from their journey.
“And this is all you have to offer? A wild tale and some stinking hides?” she asks.
“Summon Nimueh and question her. I swear that this is the truth,” Merlin say, chin lifted.
A guard slips back though the far door and, coming close, says something low into Morgana’s ear. Nodding, she waves him away. “Nimueh is unfortunately not in residence. “But explain to me why she let you live? No L’Isle would be fool enough to let someone like you live.”
Merlin is lost on how to explain this to her. He can’t fight the flush rising on his cheeks, “Um…”
Merlin wants to bury his face in his hands when Gwaine speaks up behind him, “Your highness that is a long tale and not fit for polite company.”
“Oh,” Morgana says and to Merlin’s amazement, a flush springs to her cheeks faintly.
Arthur steps forward, bowing, “Your highness, I don’t think Nimueh wanted to kill and upset the balance, but she knew our chances of survival were slim. That we not only escaped but made it back here would never have crossed her mind. We only made it back because of the Balance and with what skills we possess.”
“So you say. Is there nothing else?” she asks.
“They have my word,” Juliana says, stepping forward. “I knew Kilgharrah and I know he trusted his wards with his life.”
“Yes, with his life, but not with his secrets. Tell me, did he ever tell you he was oath sworn to protect not only the Queen’s Draca, but me as well?”
Merlin’s heart clenches and the anger that has slowly been building finally bursts forth, “No, but if he had, he would not be dead.” Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs it off. He needs to say this. “Kilgharrah taught and used me and kept me in ignorance to protect me. If had told me, the person closest to Nimueh, perhaps I could have saved him from Nimueh’s game, but he didn’t and he is dead,” says harshly, wiping at the hot tears prickling his eyes.
“If you want proof, question the guard,” Merlin says, shoulders bowing slightly as the anger finally runs out of steam.
“He’s right. We asked sought an audience with you and Juliana the night Kilgharrah was murdered and were turned away. I’m sure one of them remembers seeing a knight and a warlock,” Arthur says, stepping forward.
Nodding to the guard from before she tells him, “Go, but be discreet.” The guard leaves and as the door shuts, the rigidity that Morgana holds herself up with lets go and she sinks into her seat, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “You are speaking the truth, aren’t you?” Merlin can only nod, understanding her need for questioning. To discover a plot of invasion, impending war and treason all in one swoop is the worst thing a ruler could hear.
Finally, she straightens, her face composed, her eyes steel. “And Duc L’Ector?”
“As far as I know, he had nothing to do with it. He and Kilgharrah had already settled everything between them,” Merlin says, wanting to sit now that everything is finished. He forces himself to keep standing.
“Is it true that he killed Agravaine de la Bois?” she asks.
Merlin shrugs, “I believe it is. He was the one who killed his cousin, the late Queen. Kilgharrah used the knowledge to create a truce between them. I believe that he hoped to keep the same fate from happening to you as well.”
“And you got the information for him,” Morgana says.
Merlin shakes his head, “I wasn’t alone in this. There was another. Freya nó Emrys was the one who got the real information. She died trying to protect Kilgharrah.”
“You grieve for them both. I wish I could have known him better,” she says. Sighing, she stood. “Come with me.”
They followed her, the four of them and her knight. Walking through a set of door, she motions for the knight on duty to step aside. They crowd around the door to peer inside. Inside, Uther de la Pendragon lay on a canopied bed, face ashen and lax, only the occasional twitch giving evidence to his life, “My father.”
“He suffered a stroke during the winter. I have been ruling in his name and so far the council and nobles have allowed it.” They step back and the door is shut. They follow her back into the room from before. “But with war coming, I don’t know how long I can keep in control before someone tries to wrest it from me. I don’t know how much longer he has. Perhaps it is a mercy that he is here and does not have to worry about the realm anymore,” Morgana muses.
Sighing softly, Merlin shuts his eyes, feeling for the magic he can grasp now. As he lets go of his surrounding, his magic flows from him. It is like the time at the altar, when he and Gwaine had gone to make an offering. He can feel the magic everywhere and he can feel the Balance. Opening his eyes, he can see the lines of fate, each shining thread connected to someone. Weaving through them is one that is fading. It leads to through the doors that they just left.
Turning, he can see Morgana and the others watching him, eyes wide. “Soon,” Merlin says and his voice seems to echo. “The king’s hold on this world is fading and he will pass within the next few days.” Merlin staggers as the magic lets go of him and Arthur grabs his arm, holding him up.
“You can see the future?” Morgana asks, her eyes keen.
Merlin shakes his head, “I only saw the lines of fate. His is dim and will go out soon.”
“Oh,” she says. “I have dreams, of things that I’ve not seen before. Sometimes they come to pass, most often, they don’t,” Morgana admits and for a moment, she looks like the young woman she is, uncertain about life and the future. It’s gone in a blink, her composed mask back in place. “You will say nothing of this,” she tells the knight behind her. The man bows in reply, saying nothing.
Just then, the guard she had sent comes back in, another guard in tow. He takes one look at Arthur and Merlin and his eyes widen, “That’s them, him in the knight’s black and him in the blue-black cloak. They had come asking for the King’s Poet. But-”
“Thank you,” Morgana says cutting him off. “If you speak of this, you will be committing treason which is punishable by death.”
The guard gulps and nods before bowing to Morgana. The guard sees the man out. Morgana sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Who do I trust? What do I do?” She seems to realize that they are still there. “Forgive me my ingratitude. The crown is thankful for the news you have brought. You will be cleared of all charges, I can promise that.”
“No,” Merlin says and the others turn to stare at him. Swallowing, Merlin continues. “Your highness, you cannot. D’Alene is still your closest enemy. If he gets word of us, he will be forced to strike prematurely. He might win and even if we hold him off, we still have the Pict invasion as well.”
“Then you will still be named a murderer, you and your companions,” she says flatly.
“Then so be it. Gwaine’s part is unknown and he is safe. As for Arthur,” Merlin glances at the knight.
“I have already broken my vows to get us here safe. This will be but one more thing,” Arthur murmurs with a bow.
“I am sorry to put you in this position,” Morgana says. “But you are too valuable to place into hiding. So as of now, I am placing the three of you under the custody of the throne.”
~*~
Two days later, Uther de la Pendragon dies. They are confined to the castle and only gain some news from the guards watching over them. Gaius is sent to look them over and this brings about a round of tearful greeting and explanation.
Gaius sees to Arthur’s half healed wounds and orders them a rich diet to counter the deprivation they took as they fled. They hear the mourning bells tolling, but for the most part, Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine are alone.
Morgana comes to Merlin the night before her coronation. “You know,” she says and Merlin knows what she is asking about. Merlin nods. “Does he know?’ she asks, looking at Arthur across the room.
Merlin shakes his head, “My lady, even if he did know, I do not think he would want the crown. He has spent too much time free of politics and the pressures of the crown to want to take on that mantel.”
“It is odd to think he is my brother, if only half,” she says softly.
“Mayhap one day you should tell him. He’s never had any family and I am sure he would welcome the thought of a sister, even a half one,” Merlin says with a soft smile. “It isn’t easy, being alone,” Merlin says with a wistful twist to his mouth as he watches Arthur as well.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be. My mother and father may have given me up, but I still had family, an odd one though it was. I wouldn’t have changed it for the world,” Merlin says with a small smile. “Good night, my lady,” Merlin says with a bow and walks away.
The coronation is a quick affair. With seats missing from the council and people missing from the nobles due to the sickness, many are unsure of the new, untried Queen. They learn that many hadn’t shown from the north, saying it is still uncertain on the border and they dared not leave it undefended.
Nimueh, supposedly amongst her kin, is a glaring absence from the castle. Merlin spends too much time brooding on her and what she had done to him. Kilgharrah and Freya’s blood is on her hands and yet he still couldn’t stop himself when she got her hands on him. She still had hooks in him, despite his anguish and hatred of her.
Eventually, Arthur becomes fed up with Merlin’s festering. “If you keep this up, you will only keep hurting yourself. If you wish to even the Balance, then go to the temple and seek atonement. They will not turn you away.”
Morgana grants him permission to leave, hooded and with her guard. The clearing is as quiet as he remembers. A priestess is already waiting for him as he gains the top of the stairs. The priestess leads him from the altar, down a hidden stairway. A small stream winds through the trees. There, he cleanses himself as she chants softly, incense smoke filling his nose.
Finished, she hands him simple pieces of clothing, handspun. The rough material chafes against his damp skin. She nods, and taking his hand, leads him to the altar. Kneeling before it, Merlin places his offering, gold and silver pieces, into the slight dip.
Sitting there, he rings the bell and closes his eyes, letting his magic go free. He isn’t sure how long he is under, his magic and soul connected to the Balance and the world around him. But when he opens his eyes, he feels lighter and tears stain his cheeks.
Back at the castle, Merlin is calm, empty of the guilt and anger he had been carrying with him. He sleeps dreamlessly that night for the first time in a long time.
“The Queen is retiring to her mother’s estates for a fortnight to mourn,” Gwaine tells them later. “She’s calling up a council and we’re to attend.”
~*~
Merlin is surprised by who Morgana calls for. Besides the three of them, and Juliana, there is Gaius and Alice, who cries when she sees Merlin, Uriens, and the Knight Captain, Leon Gannes, Morgana’s personal knight. There are many others as well, Kay l’Ector, King Bayard de la Mercia with his son Bedwyr, both with their own knight. There is also King Godwyn de la Acestir and his brother Azreal. There is Geoffrey de Monmouth, one of the older nobles and royal archivist.
Mithian de Caernarvon, the Lady of Caernarvon is there as well, along with Pellinore de Dieu, the Comte de Dieu and Royal Commander. His son, Persant de Dieu, the steward of the Escetian throne is there as well. There are two that Merlin does not know, but has heard of: Gareth de Highpass, the Comte de Highpass and Morganor l’Galdren, Duc l’Galdren.
What surprises Merlin the most is that Morgana calls on the heads of the Moonlight Court. Dame Fors and her second Damas of the Fire Court are the first to arrive. Dame Edward Orkney of Earth Court and his second Priamus Avoutres arrive next from the Escetian branch of the Moonlight Court.
Soon to follow are Dame Maliasa Bulor and her second Sarah Hans of the Water Court from the Tintagel branch. Dame Dinas Seneschal of the Wind Court and his second Gilli Clarence arrive with Godwyn from Acestir. The last is Dame Hannah Winchelsea of the Lightning Court who arrives with her second Sophia Sidhe.
Merlin spends the morning before the council meeting hiding in his room, his magic going haywire with so many powerful magic users so close. Arthur is with him, trying to avoid all the knights that have arrived with the kings and nobles. He knows many of them and doesn’t want to face them.
But, eventually, they must make their presence known. The room is crowded when they walk in behind Morgana. Those who know who they are instantly fall silent and the rest soon follow, staring at the new arrivals.
“Merlin?” Uriens voice carries through the silent room and Merlin looks at the man he has known for so long. Merlin smiles as the man comes forward, taking him by the shoulders to look him over. “You’re alive!”
Duc L’Ector comes up as well, looking them over. “I hope you brought them to prove my innocence, Morgana,” he says looking at her.
“That is one of the reasons, but not the most pressing,” Morgana says.
“You bring two condemned murderers here, my lady,” the Comte de Highpass says, looking at Morgana.
“They have been cleared of the charge. Please listen to their story,” Morgana says. So they tell their tale once again.
The room is silent as they tell all they have done and been through. No one stirs as they finally come to a stop. “Surely you do not believe them, Morgana,” L’Ector says, lounging on a sofa.
“Not on their word alone. My guards have asked around discreetly and four of the castle guards remember seeing them that night asking for an audience as they claim. One saw them with Nimueh. Gaius himself has examined them and says their condition is consistent with the hardship they described to us.”
“There are other explanations for that,” Mithian de Caernarvon says, eyeing the two of them, her face composed.
“True, but the most damning evidence of their conviction was their absence and now here they stand before us,” Morgana says to the woman.
“Is there any other evidence for their story?” Mithian asks.
Merlin steps forward and bows, “My lady, if you need more evidence, then send for the Marquise of Cholhn. It was his men we came upon in the woods. Or, you can venture into the Pictish lands and ask Hoel Peredur of the Alban slaves he bought from Nædre’s soldiers. I can point out exactly where his steading lies on a map.”
“And either way, we tip our hand to D’Alene. If you laid this trap, then Kilgharrah trained you well, but if not, we will need all the help we can get,” L’Ector says, eyeing Merlin from his seat.
Uriens steps up, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’ve known Merlin since he was a child and I do not believe he would be party to Kilgharrah’s murder. As for the knight, he wears his honesty on his face.” He turns to look at Gwaine, “As for you, I do not know you, but you gain nothing from this either.”
“I’ve known Merlin longer than even Kilgharrah. I saw him the night he arrived in the city. He is not lying,” Gwaine says.
“I think the question we need to ask is why D’Alene wanted Kilgharrah dead?” Dame Fors asks from the side of the room. She and the other Court members are gathered in a group, watching the nobles.
No one stirs except Morgana, who shifts restlessly, her dress rustling in the still room. “The fault may fall on me partly,” she admits. “I asked him to help me in a certain matter that D’Alene probably thought dangerous to his plan.”
“You can’t still be going through this?” L’Ector asks, looking at Morgana.
“It is not for you to decide,” she says, chin lifting in defiance.
“I would rather see a union with one of the mainland princes. At least then we would have soldiers to add to our ranks,” L’Ector says with a growl.
“Morgause almost came close enough. If she had been able to rally the army of the Frumgar’s son, Galway, across from Hibernia, we would never have been able to stop them,” Uriens reminds them.
“They would have never made it across, not with the Fisher King guarding the waters. Petit tried it already, and they never even got close,” Pellinore de Dieu says.
“He let the Frumgar’s nephew, Driant across and no one knew why,” Morganor l’Galdren says, standing. “Beside, Nimueh and D’Alene stopped them.” He turns to Morgana, “My lady, what do you have to do with Hibernia that would cause Kilgharrah’s death?”
Straightening before them, she says evenly, “At the age of sixteen, my hand was promised to Driant mab Drekana son of Drekana and heir and nephew to Frumgar of Hibernia.”
It clicks then, the pattern that he has been trying to figure out since he was old enough to start seeing parts of it. “The message, you sought passage for the Hibernian Prince to here, but why turn to Kilgharrah?”
“Uther didn’t like Kilgharrah, hated the bond between him and Ygraine, but he could see the use in Kilgharrah’s oath. After Ygraine and the prince’s death, Uther sought out an alliance with my hand as currency…but I wanted something more,” Morgana says. “Driant mab Drekana.”
L’Ector lets out a roaring laugh, “The cripple? You want to marry him?”
Morgana sends a withering glare at the man, “I want to wed the rightful heir to the Hibernian throne, to whom I am betrothed. And it is what Kilgharrah was trying to accomplish and was killed for.”
“And what does this have to do with D’Alene or the Picts?” Leon Gannes, Knight Captain, asks, stepping forward with a bow to his ward.
“It could have nothing to do with it,” she says, “or it could be everything.” Everyone is silent at her words.
~*~
Morgana paces the room as they all sit, listening to her words, “All my life, I have been a pawn in Uther’s game for alliance by marriage. I have been courted, had suits thrown at me, and parties thrown in my name until I could scream, and for lords who only see a means to a throne. But the Hibernians, they don’t want power. They only come for a vision and it seems it was enough to sway the Fisher King.”
Merlin remembers Freya mentioning it, how the Hibernian party had come following the vision, of a Red Hart and a Golden Dragon.
“Driant has no wish to rule over Camelot or the five kingdoms. He only wants what is best for his people. We spoke of it, through mixed tongues, of ruling together, our two kingdoms. I will not abandon this alliance for convenience.”
“You are Queen now,” Mithian says softly, “You may not have a choice.”
“The emperor-,” L’Ector begins.
“Will send aid if he wishes to keep from being invaded if we fall,” Mithian cuts in. “Do you really think the Picts will stop with just the five kingdoms? The simplest solution would be to marry D’Alene.”
“And set a traitor upon the throne?” the Comte de Dieu asks with a hiss.
“If it is true, then our first course would be to bind his loyalty, to fight of the invasion,” she says with a glare at the Royal Commander. There are murmurs everywhere as people start voicing their opinions.
Merlin shakes himself and says softly, “No. Even if we did secure his loyalty, we still have the Pictish invasion. I have seen their numbers, I know what we would be up against and even with D’Alene’s men, we would never survive. And we would be betrayed the moment we came to the decision by Nimueh. She corresponds with Arrœk and he would be tipped off.”
“Then we bring Nimueh de l’Isle in to custody,” Morganor says gruffly.
“Do you think it would be that easy to hold her? It is no coincidence that she is with her kin and not in Camelot,” Merlin says, eyeing the large lord.
“What I want to know is why she would betray us? What could possibly be worth the risk?” Dame Maliasa Bulor asks. They all turn to look at Merlin.
Merlin trembles slightly under their stares. Taking a breath, he lets it out before speaking. “The L’Isle House has always played the Game of Houses and Thrones. And this time, the whole of Albion is the stakes. But she has made a mistake with me and it is our only advantage. But do not expect another. If you feel D’Alene is our biggest threat, than you are falling into her trap.”
“I will not allow that man to revolt with my army,” Pellinore growls out.
“But we do not know if they are revolting or not. We need to find a way to the truth,” L’Ector murmurs.
“Without tipping out hand, of course,” the Commander says, eyeing the Duc. L’Ector just smirks and nods.
“Where are Prince Dillon’s Men stationed?” Uriens asks. “If I recall, D’Alene was trying to gain control of them.”
“In Escetia, under Persant’s control, but they are an insubordinate bunch,” Pellinore says, nodding towards his son.
“My cousin was always a patient man,” Uriens says with a smile, remembering the prince. “He had Morgause for a mother,” he says, glancing at Morgana who is the woman’s half-sister. Morgana doesn’t even twitch at the slight. “Perhaps we should give D’Alene them. Let them ride with him, test the loyalties of D’Alene’s men.”
“And how do we guarantee their loyalty?” Mithian asks. “If you’ll recall, it was the Pendragon line that had their leader killed.”
“Yes, Uther, but what if Morgana were to recall Cenred de la Escetia and his daughter Dalia from exile?” Uriens continues.
“And strip away my son’s stewardship of the Escetian throne?” Pellinore asks with a glare, voice low.
“Your son may be a good man, but he is not of the Escetian line, nor one of their nobles. They would never accept him unless he was to become one of them…say through marriage,” Uriens says coolly back.
“Dalia,” Mithian says softly.
“Exactly,” Uriens nods.
Morgana turns to Uriens. “Without the Escetian army, we would be left with only half our defenses. Comte de Isidore, your cousin has committed a crime against this throne and the five kingdoms. If given a chance to redeem himself, would he take it?”
“My lady, he is an Alban in exile. Given the chance, he will take it and be twice as fierce to prove his loyalty,” Uriens murmurs.
Morgana bites her lip in thought before nodding. “I assume you know where he resides?” Uriens nods. “We will speak with the soldiers first and tell them that their loyalty and discretion holds their king’s redemption in the Balance. Will you do this for me?”
Uriens nods. “Good. I have spoken with Tristan de la Bois and with Duc L’Ector’s help; we have gained a truce between us. They have men they can provide us and many of their merchants deal with the places close to the mountains. He is also willing to provide information and we need it badly. We need anything we can get and it needs to be gathered secretly. Will you help me?”
By the end of the day, when night has fallen, each has pledged to gather what they can with discretion. The knights, under the Knight Commanders approval, will be used as messengers, creating a network between each of the major parties.
Finally, Duc L’Ector brings the conversation back to where they had originally started. “We have started the path to dealing with invasion and civil war, but what of your crippled lad?”
Uriens stand and answers, “Driant mab Drekana escaped his cousin’s attack and has fled with his sisters and mother and some warriors to the western most point of Hibernia and have taken refuge amongst the Wigend. Although they have asked the Wigend to help retake the throne from Galway, they have refused.”
“Yes, yes, we know this. Is that all Kilgharrah was able to get, despite his vast intelligence?” L’Ector asks.
“No,” Juliana says lowly. “Kilgharrah was in contact with Petit who carried a petition to the Fisher King asking for passage for Driant and his people to cross. Once they reached Alban soil, he and Morgana would wed and Albion would aid him in regaining his throne as would he aid in our time of need.”
“And the Fisher King’s answer?” Mithian asks.
“He answered that ‘When the Red Hart rules in Hibernia, the Fisher King will accede.’ That was Petit’s message to Kilgharrah,” Juliana says.
“That makes no sense,” the Comte Highpass says.
“It does though. There are four main houses in Hibernia: Blæc Beran, the Black Bear to the north; Read Heorot, the Red Hart to the south; Grene Hengest, the Green Horse to the east; and Fealo Leo, the Yellow Lion to the west. Galway is a member of the Black Bear house and Driant is from the Red Hart house. The Red Hart House is the head, the one to unite all of Hibernia. The Fisher King will grant our request, so long as we help him regain his throne,” Juliana says.
Merlin frowns, a memory nagging at the back of his mind. He jerks his head up and turns to look a Gwaine, “Remember, in the inn? ‘Do not discount the Read Heorot.’ Don’t discount the Red Hart.” Merlin looks up to see everyone staring at him again.
“What are you talking about?” Morgana asks.
“Some years ago, I was with Gwaine in the inn. Someone said those words, but when we looked there was no one there. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time, but now…it means Prince Driant.”
“Perhaps if the Wigend knew of the Fisher King’s pledge, they would help him. If only Kilgharrah weren’t dead. He could speak Hibernian as well as the girl.” Morgana turns to Juliana, “I would send you, but Gaius has informed me that a sea voyage would only worsen your condition.”
“So he has told me,” she says with a small smile. “But my lady, you are forgetting. Kilgharrah had two wards.” She turns to look at Merlin.
“What!” Merlin says, looking back at Juliana.
“Merlin speaks the language and he is taught by Kilgharrah himself. He could take Kilgharrah’s place as Queen’s Ambassador.”
“But, I’m just…I can’t…I can’t be ambassador,” Merlin says, shaking his head.
“You are more cut out for it than anyone here, boy,” L’Ector says. “The fact that you double-crossed not only the Pictish Warlord, but escaped and made it here to warn us is enough to go on besides the fact that your teacher was Kilgharrah.”
“I barely survived that and I couldn’t do it again,” Merlin says.
“You would not be alone and besides, the Hibernians are not the Picts. You would be there as ambassador, not a slave,” Morgana says, looking directly at Merlin.
Merlin can only stare, shocked into frozenness. Sighing, Arthur bows slightly to Morgana before moving to stand in front of Merlin, catching his gaze and holding it. “Merlin, you will not go alone. I will be there,” Arthur says softly, for Merlin’s ears alone.
“Merlin?” Morgana says and Merlin looks at the new Queen. She is young, just a few years older than Merlin and she looks uncertain, but her eyes show the steel of her resolve. “Will you accept this role?”
Merlin swallows and glancing once at Arthur, he nods. “I will, your highness. I will go.”
Morgana nods and for a moment, her shoulders sag in relief before straightening. “Now, to get you to the Royal Admiral safely,” Morgana says softly.
“Where is he at?” Merlin asks.
“Off the peninsula closest to Hibernia: Porte,” Morgana says.
“I think I have an idea to get there, you majesty,” Gwaine says aloud, all eyes turning towards him.
When Morgana nods for him to continue, Gwaine does, “There are old roads that only the Druids use. There is one that leads to Porte. Only a Druid or someone who knows the signs will know the road exists. It would be simple to disguise ourselves as a Druid group, moving to a new camp. No one would suspect us.”
“And you know someone who can find this road?” L’Ector drawls, looking at Gwaine.
“I do,” Gwaine says easily. When Merlin looks at him in confusion, he continues, “My mother and I lived with a Druid group for a while until we came to Camelot.”
Morgana nods, “So be it. If you can show the way, I will supply anything you need. Talk with my chancellor, he will outfit you with whatever you deem necessary for this journey.” Gwaine nods and bows his head to her. Morgana turns to the rest, “It has been decided. It is late and I am sure you are all tired. Feel free to ask what you will from the kitchen staff. We will reassemble in the morning.” They all bow as Morgana leaves.
~*~
Merlin slips out before anyone can stop him. Arthur and Gwaine find him later, holed up in his room on his bed. The dragon egg rests in the cradle of his lap. “What is that?” Gwaine asks, shutting and locking the door behind them.
Merlin glances up to see them watching him. “It…it’s a dragon egg,” Merlin says softly, running a fingertip over the smooth shell. The egg is warm to the touch, magic tingling underneath it.
“What?” Gwaine asks, coming closer.
“One of Kilgharrah’s books in his library was on dragons…and Dragonlords,” Merlin admits. “It said that the last Dragonlord was the warlock before me and that apparently, I’m descended from him.” Merlin doesn’t look up at Gwaine.
“A Dragonlord, huh?” Gwaine says, settling on the bed near Merlin’s feet. “Well, that certainly makes your Mearcung fitting,” Gwaine says with a chuckle.
Merlin goes to say something, but is stopped by a yawn. “You should sleep,” Arthur says softly.
Merlin’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. Nodding, Merlin curls up on the bed, egg cradled close to his chest. Arthur pulls the blanket up over him, tucking them in. Merlin falls asleep to the sound of Arthur and Gwaine’s voices a low murmur in the background.
~*~
Merlin
Merlin
Merlin!
Merlin jerks up, looking around blearily, trying to figure out who is calling his name. Arthur and Gwaine are still up and they look over at him. “Did someone call my name?” he asks, yawning.
“No,” Gwaine says.
Frowning, Merlin rubs absently at the egg still pressed close to him.
Merlin!
Merlin jerks again, looking around. Merlin rolls to his knees, looking around. “Who keeps calling my name?” he asks aloud.
Here
Frowning, Merlin glances down where his hand still touches the egg.
Yes!
“You?” Merlin asks, leaning down to bring the egg to eye level. Something thumps against the inside of the shell and Merlin jerks his hand back. “You’re alive? Why don’t you come out of your shell?” Merlin asks, unaware of Gwaine and Arthur coming closer to the bed.
Help
“How do I help you?” Merlin asks.
Name
“Name? You mean I need to call your name?” The egg rocks a bit on the next thump. “All right, but I don’t know your name?” Merlin says.
Know
“All right,” Merlin says with uncertainty. Still frowning a little, Merlin closes his eyes and drags in a breath. He can feel his magic and he goes into it instead of pulling it out. A thread of it travels down his arm to the egg, connecting him.
Something about it calls to him and he follows it to the egg. The moment he enters the egg, his vision goes golden and something bursts forth in his mind, a word, a name. “Aithusa,” the names bursts from his mouth.
Merlin is finally able to let go of the egg and as he does, there’s a loud cracking sound. Merlin opens his eyes to find Arthur holding up his sagging body. On the bed, amongst the cracked shell and slime, sits a little white dragon.
“Well, how do I explain this?” Merlin says softly. Next to his, Gwaine snorts.
~*~
Merlin spends the morning hidden away in his room, studying the little white dragon. Aithusa is about the length of his arm, including his tail. He has bright blue eyes and it doesn’t take long before the little thing gains the ability to fly and knock things off of the wall.
When Aithusa lands on the small ceiling fixture, Merlin glares up at him, “Get back down here.”
He doesn’t here the door open, but he does here someone gasp. Merlin whirls around to see Morgana standing in the doorway, eyes glued to Aithusa. “My lady,” Merlin says, panic starting to rise in his throat.
“Is that?” she says softly.
“Yes, my lady, this is Aithusa,” Merlin says.
Morgana shuts the door with a snap, walking further in, though she doesn’t take her eyes off of the dragon. “I thought they all died?” she says, looking at Merlin.
“So did I, but I found his egg in a cave we stayed in. There was a Dragonlord’s symbol carved into the wall. He hatched last night,” Merlin says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Aithusa, curious about the new arrival, pushes off from the fixture and glides down to the bed, looking up at Morgana.
“Are you…a Dragonlord?” Morgana asks. Merlin nods. “But how?”
“It’s a long story,” Merlin says softly. Looking up at Morgana, he asks, “Did you need anything, my lady?”
“Oh, um, yes. I have brought someone to see you,” Morgana admits.
Merlin nods and stands. “Will he be all right, by himself?’ Morgana asks.
“He’ll fall asleep soon and I’d like to keep him a secret for now,” Merlin admits.
“All right. This way,” Morgana says, leading Merlin out of the room. Merlin glances back to see Aithusa curled up on the bed, blue eyes following him. Smiling, he shuts the door behind him.
~*~
What Merlin expected and what he saw, are two different things. Master Morholt Saracen is standing in the room Morgana leads him too. Merlin stops, heart in his throat as he looks between the tattooist and Morgana.
“I would prefer my Ambassador to be free before I sent him on my mission,” Morgana says with a smile.
“Well, boy, let’s get to it. We have an unfinished contract between us,” Saracen says, motioning Merlin forward where a cloth covered table waits.
Morgana leaves them and Merlin strips out of his clothing, lying on the table. “Where is you apprentice?” Merlin asks as the man gets his things together.
“Gone. He was taken by the sickness,” Saracen says simply. “You will be my last piece. I’m too old to start over.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin murmurs as the man lays the tapper against his skin and strikes it. Time seems to slow then. With his magic suffusing him, Merlin’s world narrows to the sharp pain of the needles stamping ink into his skin. With each tap, his magic hooks itself into the point. With each tap, he is a step closer to finally being free.
It seems to take an eternity, but what is probably only a few hours, Master Saracen stops, finished. Merlin thanks him and the old man grunts in acknowledgement, seeing to his things. Merlin quickly dons his clothing and slips out of the room.
~*~
Back in his room, Merlin strips again and stands in front of the full length mirror. Pants low on his hips; he can just see the base. The dragon, long and sinuous, stares back at him with golden eyes. Wrapped around a sword obscured by its wings and limbs, Merlin stares at the Drycræft symbols written on the blade of the sword: Take me up. Cast me away. It had seemed fitting before and it still is.
He can see Aithusa behind him on the bed and the dragon’s eyes seem to glow with approval. There is a knock at the door and Morgana comes in, shutting the door. “Is it done?” she asks. Merlin nods and turns to show her. “It is fitting…Dragonlord.”
Merlin shrugs and slips his tunic on over his head, the cloth brushing against his tender skin. “I wanted to bring you this,” Morgana admits. She hands him a slim book, bound in smooth leather. “It is Ygraine’s diary, from before her marriage to Uther. It…it explains a lot about Kilgharrah, how she met him. Mayhap you’ll finally learn the truth of your master,” Morgana says softly.
“Thank you, my lady,” Merlin whispers.
Morgana nods, “You leave tomorrow. Be ready.”
~*~
With morning comes Gwaine and things for their journey. Gwaine shoves a bundle of clothing at Merlin. Inside is a homespun shirt in dark green, brown breeches underneath it. Over it goes a brown jacket and a light grey cloak.
The others are in similar dress. A small wagon and horses wait for them. Gwaine walks up with a grin. “Merlin you will be driving the wagon. You will be my cousin from my father’s side. Arthur is a fellow traveler who joined up with us on our way to Porte, but he not a Druid, which will explain the sword just fine.”
They both nod. Merlin quickly scrambles up into the driver’s seat while servants load their things onto the wagon. Morgana, Juliana, L’Ector, Uriens, Gaius and Alice all stand watching them get ready. Stepping forward, Morgana swept her gaze over them. “Be safe,” she says softly.
“We will,” Merlin says. Beside him, his pack wiggles, Aithusa restless at being confined inside it. Nodding, Morgana steps back and with a flick, Merlin has the wagon moving, Arthur and Gwaine following on their horses. Soon, the others fade from sight and the trees close up around them.
~*~
Part 7
They ride into a little used side courtyard of the eastern wing of the castle. The guards in red cloaks and silver mail help them out. Merlin looks closely and sees a small ring on each pinky finger of them. “They’re Morgana’s personal guard, handpicked and completely loyal to her. They can be trusted,” Juliana says in a lowered voice to him.
The guards search them for weapons. Gwaine hands over a dagger, and Arthur slowly relinquishes his sword. Merlin can only protest as they try to take the Pictish dagger in the sack that holds the only proof of their journey. “I’ll hold onto it,” Juliana says, nodding to the guards.
They nod and allow them through. Merlin blinks as the light dims and it takes him a second to realize where he is and who exactly is in the room. He has seen Morgana from a distance, but up close, she is still as coolly beautiful as he remembers. Eyes like still silent pools, her pale skin glows in the candle light, her dark locks coifed and pinned up in a fashionable style. The green dress is in fashion as well, though the dagger at her waist isn’t.
She is seated in a small throne-like chair, watching them calmly as they approach. The knight behind her shifts, keeping his eyes on them as they approach as well and if Arthur makes a noise at the sight of the man, he remains composed.
“Your highness,” Juliana says, curtsying.
Morgana nods, “Who have you brought?” Merlin looks at her and can see that she already knows who they are.
“Merlin nó Emrys, Knight Arthur du Bois,” Morgana’s eyes briefly flick to Arthur and then back to Juliana, “and Gwaine de Ganis,” Juliana finishes, using Gwaine’s full name. How she knew it, Merlin doesn’t know, but he hears Gwaine’s snort from behind his left shoulder.
Morgana nods again to Juliana and then fixes her eyes on Merlin, “You are accused of killing Kilgharrah nó Emrys, a man oath sworn to the Pendragon crown. How do you plead, warlock?”
Merlin straightens, “In the name of the Queen’s Draca, her only born, I bring this message. When the Red Hart rules in Hibernia, the Fisher King will accede.” The vaulting room echoes with his words.
Morgana is silent for a moment, before nodding again, “I already know this from the Admiral. Is that all you have to say?”
Merlin shakes his head. “No, I am here to say I am innocent. Petit’s messenger found Arthur and I at the tattooists and asked us to deliver the message. He said that the house was being watched and so was he. When we got there, everyone was dead, except…except Freya. She was still alive. She died in my arms,” Merlin says softly. Shaking himself, Merlin continues. “You have been betrayed your highness by those you have placed much trust in. Duc Valiant d’Alene plots for the throne and conspires with Selises Arrœk, the Pictish warlord and plans an invasion. They plan to betray D’Alene. They will succeed unless we can stop them,” Merlin says, looking Morgana in the eye.
Morgana’s face gives nothing away to her thoughts, though it is paler than before. “You charge Duc D’Alene, hero of Camelot and Escetia with this crime?” she asks.
Merlin shakes his head, “Not just him. Nimueh de l’Isle as well, who is his ally. She was the one who betrayed Kilgharrah and it is her letters to Arrœk that have assured his victory.”
Morgana is silent as she studies them. Finally she stirs, “Tell me everything you claim to have seen.” And so they do, starting from their desperate flight to the house from the tattooists and to their escape and flight from the Picts and their exhausted return back to Camelot. Morgana sits silent through it all. They show her their proof, the clothing and weapons that they had with them. Gwaine testifies to the condition that he found them in, half-starved and filthy from their journey.
“And this is all you have to offer? A wild tale and some stinking hides?” she asks.
“Summon Nimueh and question her. I swear that this is the truth,” Merlin say, chin lifted.
A guard slips back though the far door and, coming close, says something low into Morgana’s ear. Nodding, she waves him away. “Nimueh is unfortunately not in residence. “But explain to me why she let you live? No L’Isle would be fool enough to let someone like you live.”
Merlin is lost on how to explain this to her. He can’t fight the flush rising on his cheeks, “Um…”
Merlin wants to bury his face in his hands when Gwaine speaks up behind him, “Your highness that is a long tale and not fit for polite company.”
“Oh,” Morgana says and to Merlin’s amazement, a flush springs to her cheeks faintly.
Arthur steps forward, bowing, “Your highness, I don’t think Nimueh wanted to kill and upset the balance, but she knew our chances of survival were slim. That we not only escaped but made it back here would never have crossed her mind. We only made it back because of the Balance and with what skills we possess.”
“So you say. Is there nothing else?” she asks.
“They have my word,” Juliana says, stepping forward. “I knew Kilgharrah and I know he trusted his wards with his life.”
“Yes, with his life, but not with his secrets. Tell me, did he ever tell you he was oath sworn to protect not only the Queen’s Draca, but me as well?”
Merlin’s heart clenches and the anger that has slowly been building finally bursts forth, “No, but if he had, he would not be dead.” Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs it off. He needs to say this. “Kilgharrah taught and used me and kept me in ignorance to protect me. If had told me, the person closest to Nimueh, perhaps I could have saved him from Nimueh’s game, but he didn’t and he is dead,” says harshly, wiping at the hot tears prickling his eyes.
“If you want proof, question the guard,” Merlin says, shoulders bowing slightly as the anger finally runs out of steam.
“He’s right. We asked sought an audience with you and Juliana the night Kilgharrah was murdered and were turned away. I’m sure one of them remembers seeing a knight and a warlock,” Arthur says, stepping forward.
Nodding to the guard from before she tells him, “Go, but be discreet.” The guard leaves and as the door shuts, the rigidity that Morgana holds herself up with lets go and she sinks into her seat, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “You are speaking the truth, aren’t you?” Merlin can only nod, understanding her need for questioning. To discover a plot of invasion, impending war and treason all in one swoop is the worst thing a ruler could hear.
Finally, she straightens, her face composed, her eyes steel. “And Duc L’Ector?”
“As far as I know, he had nothing to do with it. He and Kilgharrah had already settled everything between them,” Merlin says, wanting to sit now that everything is finished. He forces himself to keep standing.
“Is it true that he killed Agravaine de la Bois?” she asks.
Merlin shrugs, “I believe it is. He was the one who killed his cousin, the late Queen. Kilgharrah used the knowledge to create a truce between them. I believe that he hoped to keep the same fate from happening to you as well.”
“And you got the information for him,” Morgana says.
Merlin shakes his head, “I wasn’t alone in this. There was another. Freya nó Emrys was the one who got the real information. She died trying to protect Kilgharrah.”
“You grieve for them both. I wish I could have known him better,” she says. Sighing, she stood. “Come with me.”
They followed her, the four of them and her knight. Walking through a set of door, she motions for the knight on duty to step aside. They crowd around the door to peer inside. Inside, Uther de la Pendragon lay on a canopied bed, face ashen and lax, only the occasional twitch giving evidence to his life, “My father.”
“He suffered a stroke during the winter. I have been ruling in his name and so far the council and nobles have allowed it.” They step back and the door is shut. They follow her back into the room from before. “But with war coming, I don’t know how long I can keep in control before someone tries to wrest it from me. I don’t know how much longer he has. Perhaps it is a mercy that he is here and does not have to worry about the realm anymore,” Morgana muses.
Sighing softly, Merlin shuts his eyes, feeling for the magic he can grasp now. As he lets go of his surrounding, his magic flows from him. It is like the time at the altar, when he and Gwaine had gone to make an offering. He can feel the magic everywhere and he can feel the Balance. Opening his eyes, he can see the lines of fate, each shining thread connected to someone. Weaving through them is one that is fading. It leads to through the doors that they just left.
Turning, he can see Morgana and the others watching him, eyes wide. “Soon,” Merlin says and his voice seems to echo. “The king’s hold on this world is fading and he will pass within the next few days.” Merlin staggers as the magic lets go of him and Arthur grabs his arm, holding him up.
“You can see the future?” Morgana asks, her eyes keen.
Merlin shakes his head, “I only saw the lines of fate. His is dim and will go out soon.”
“Oh,” she says. “I have dreams, of things that I’ve not seen before. Sometimes they come to pass, most often, they don’t,” Morgana admits and for a moment, she looks like the young woman she is, uncertain about life and the future. It’s gone in a blink, her composed mask back in place. “You will say nothing of this,” she tells the knight behind her. The man bows in reply, saying nothing.
Just then, the guard she had sent comes back in, another guard in tow. He takes one look at Arthur and Merlin and his eyes widen, “That’s them, him in the knight’s black and him in the blue-black cloak. They had come asking for the King’s Poet. But-”
“Thank you,” Morgana says cutting him off. “If you speak of this, you will be committing treason which is punishable by death.”
The guard gulps and nods before bowing to Morgana. The guard sees the man out. Morgana sighs, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Who do I trust? What do I do?” She seems to realize that they are still there. “Forgive me my ingratitude. The crown is thankful for the news you have brought. You will be cleared of all charges, I can promise that.”
“No,” Merlin says and the others turn to stare at him. Swallowing, Merlin continues. “Your highness, you cannot. D’Alene is still your closest enemy. If he gets word of us, he will be forced to strike prematurely. He might win and even if we hold him off, we still have the Pict invasion as well.”
“Then you will still be named a murderer, you and your companions,” she says flatly.
“Then so be it. Gwaine’s part is unknown and he is safe. As for Arthur,” Merlin glances at the knight.
“I have already broken my vows to get us here safe. This will be but one more thing,” Arthur murmurs with a bow.
“I am sorry to put you in this position,” Morgana says. “But you are too valuable to place into hiding. So as of now, I am placing the three of you under the custody of the throne.”
~*~
Two days later, Uther de la Pendragon dies. They are confined to the castle and only gain some news from the guards watching over them. Gaius is sent to look them over and this brings about a round of tearful greeting and explanation.
Gaius sees to Arthur’s half healed wounds and orders them a rich diet to counter the deprivation they took as they fled. They hear the mourning bells tolling, but for the most part, Merlin, Arthur and Gwaine are alone.
Morgana comes to Merlin the night before her coronation. “You know,” she says and Merlin knows what she is asking about. Merlin nods. “Does he know?’ she asks, looking at Arthur across the room.
Merlin shakes his head, “My lady, even if he did know, I do not think he would want the crown. He has spent too much time free of politics and the pressures of the crown to want to take on that mantel.”
“It is odd to think he is my brother, if only half,” she says softly.
“Mayhap one day you should tell him. He’s never had any family and I am sure he would welcome the thought of a sister, even a half one,” Merlin says with a soft smile. “It isn’t easy, being alone,” Merlin says with a wistful twist to his mouth as he watches Arthur as well.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be. My mother and father may have given me up, but I still had family, an odd one though it was. I wouldn’t have changed it for the world,” Merlin says with a small smile. “Good night, my lady,” Merlin says with a bow and walks away.
The coronation is a quick affair. With seats missing from the council and people missing from the nobles due to the sickness, many are unsure of the new, untried Queen. They learn that many hadn’t shown from the north, saying it is still uncertain on the border and they dared not leave it undefended.
Nimueh, supposedly amongst her kin, is a glaring absence from the castle. Merlin spends too much time brooding on her and what she had done to him. Kilgharrah and Freya’s blood is on her hands and yet he still couldn’t stop himself when she got her hands on him. She still had hooks in him, despite his anguish and hatred of her.
Eventually, Arthur becomes fed up with Merlin’s festering. “If you keep this up, you will only keep hurting yourself. If you wish to even the Balance, then go to the temple and seek atonement. They will not turn you away.”
Morgana grants him permission to leave, hooded and with her guard. The clearing is as quiet as he remembers. A priestess is already waiting for him as he gains the top of the stairs. The priestess leads him from the altar, down a hidden stairway. A small stream winds through the trees. There, he cleanses himself as she chants softly, incense smoke filling his nose.
Finished, she hands him simple pieces of clothing, handspun. The rough material chafes against his damp skin. She nods, and taking his hand, leads him to the altar. Kneeling before it, Merlin places his offering, gold and silver pieces, into the slight dip.
Sitting there, he rings the bell and closes his eyes, letting his magic go free. He isn’t sure how long he is under, his magic and soul connected to the Balance and the world around him. But when he opens his eyes, he feels lighter and tears stain his cheeks.
Back at the castle, Merlin is calm, empty of the guilt and anger he had been carrying with him. He sleeps dreamlessly that night for the first time in a long time.
“The Queen is retiring to her mother’s estates for a fortnight to mourn,” Gwaine tells them later. “She’s calling up a council and we’re to attend.”
~*~
Merlin is surprised by who Morgana calls for. Besides the three of them, and Juliana, there is Gaius and Alice, who cries when she sees Merlin, Uriens, and the Knight Captain, Leon Gannes, Morgana’s personal knight. There are many others as well, Kay l’Ector, King Bayard de la Mercia with his son Bedwyr, both with their own knight. There is also King Godwyn de la Acestir and his brother Azreal. There is Geoffrey de Monmouth, one of the older nobles and royal archivist.
Mithian de Caernarvon, the Lady of Caernarvon is there as well, along with Pellinore de Dieu, the Comte de Dieu and Royal Commander. His son, Persant de Dieu, the steward of the Escetian throne is there as well. There are two that Merlin does not know, but has heard of: Gareth de Highpass, the Comte de Highpass and Morganor l’Galdren, Duc l’Galdren.
What surprises Merlin the most is that Morgana calls on the heads of the Moonlight Court. Dame Fors and her second Damas of the Fire Court are the first to arrive. Dame Edward Orkney of Earth Court and his second Priamus Avoutres arrive next from the Escetian branch of the Moonlight Court.
Soon to follow are Dame Maliasa Bulor and her second Sarah Hans of the Water Court from the Tintagel branch. Dame Dinas Seneschal of the Wind Court and his second Gilli Clarence arrive with Godwyn from Acestir. The last is Dame Hannah Winchelsea of the Lightning Court who arrives with her second Sophia Sidhe.
Merlin spends the morning before the council meeting hiding in his room, his magic going haywire with so many powerful magic users so close. Arthur is with him, trying to avoid all the knights that have arrived with the kings and nobles. He knows many of them and doesn’t want to face them.
But, eventually, they must make their presence known. The room is crowded when they walk in behind Morgana. Those who know who they are instantly fall silent and the rest soon follow, staring at the new arrivals.
“Merlin?” Uriens voice carries through the silent room and Merlin looks at the man he has known for so long. Merlin smiles as the man comes forward, taking him by the shoulders to look him over. “You’re alive!”
Duc L’Ector comes up as well, looking them over. “I hope you brought them to prove my innocence, Morgana,” he says looking at her.
“That is one of the reasons, but not the most pressing,” Morgana says.
“You bring two condemned murderers here, my lady,” the Comte de Highpass says, looking at Morgana.
“They have been cleared of the charge. Please listen to their story,” Morgana says. So they tell their tale once again.
The room is silent as they tell all they have done and been through. No one stirs as they finally come to a stop. “Surely you do not believe them, Morgana,” L’Ector says, lounging on a sofa.
“Not on their word alone. My guards have asked around discreetly and four of the castle guards remember seeing them that night asking for an audience as they claim. One saw them with Nimueh. Gaius himself has examined them and says their condition is consistent with the hardship they described to us.”
“There are other explanations for that,” Mithian de Caernarvon says, eyeing the two of them, her face composed.
“True, but the most damning evidence of their conviction was their absence and now here they stand before us,” Morgana says to the woman.
“Is there any other evidence for their story?” Mithian asks.
Merlin steps forward and bows, “My lady, if you need more evidence, then send for the Marquise of Cholhn. It was his men we came upon in the woods. Or, you can venture into the Pictish lands and ask Hoel Peredur of the Alban slaves he bought from Nædre’s soldiers. I can point out exactly where his steading lies on a map.”
“And either way, we tip our hand to D’Alene. If you laid this trap, then Kilgharrah trained you well, but if not, we will need all the help we can get,” L’Ector says, eyeing Merlin from his seat.
Uriens steps up, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I’ve known Merlin since he was a child and I do not believe he would be party to Kilgharrah’s murder. As for the knight, he wears his honesty on his face.” He turns to look at Gwaine, “As for you, I do not know you, but you gain nothing from this either.”
“I’ve known Merlin longer than even Kilgharrah. I saw him the night he arrived in the city. He is not lying,” Gwaine says.
“I think the question we need to ask is why D’Alene wanted Kilgharrah dead?” Dame Fors asks from the side of the room. She and the other Court members are gathered in a group, watching the nobles.
No one stirs except Morgana, who shifts restlessly, her dress rustling in the still room. “The fault may fall on me partly,” she admits. “I asked him to help me in a certain matter that D’Alene probably thought dangerous to his plan.”
“You can’t still be going through this?” L’Ector asks, looking at Morgana.
“It is not for you to decide,” she says, chin lifting in defiance.
“I would rather see a union with one of the mainland princes. At least then we would have soldiers to add to our ranks,” L’Ector says with a growl.
“Morgause almost came close enough. If she had been able to rally the army of the Frumgar’s son, Galway, across from Hibernia, we would never have been able to stop them,” Uriens reminds them.
“They would have never made it across, not with the Fisher King guarding the waters. Petit tried it already, and they never even got close,” Pellinore de Dieu says.
“He let the Frumgar’s nephew, Driant across and no one knew why,” Morganor l’Galdren says, standing. “Beside, Nimueh and D’Alene stopped them.” He turns to Morgana, “My lady, what do you have to do with Hibernia that would cause Kilgharrah’s death?”
Straightening before them, she says evenly, “At the age of sixteen, my hand was promised to Driant mab Drekana son of Drekana and heir and nephew to Frumgar of Hibernia.”
It clicks then, the pattern that he has been trying to figure out since he was old enough to start seeing parts of it. “The message, you sought passage for the Hibernian Prince to here, but why turn to Kilgharrah?”
“Uther didn’t like Kilgharrah, hated the bond between him and Ygraine, but he could see the use in Kilgharrah’s oath. After Ygraine and the prince’s death, Uther sought out an alliance with my hand as currency…but I wanted something more,” Morgana says. “Driant mab Drekana.”
L’Ector lets out a roaring laugh, “The cripple? You want to marry him?”
Morgana sends a withering glare at the man, “I want to wed the rightful heir to the Hibernian throne, to whom I am betrothed. And it is what Kilgharrah was trying to accomplish and was killed for.”
“And what does this have to do with D’Alene or the Picts?” Leon Gannes, Knight Captain, asks, stepping forward with a bow to his ward.
“It could have nothing to do with it,” she says, “or it could be everything.” Everyone is silent at her words.
~*~
Morgana paces the room as they all sit, listening to her words, “All my life, I have been a pawn in Uther’s game for alliance by marriage. I have been courted, had suits thrown at me, and parties thrown in my name until I could scream, and for lords who only see a means to a throne. But the Hibernians, they don’t want power. They only come for a vision and it seems it was enough to sway the Fisher King.”
Merlin remembers Freya mentioning it, how the Hibernian party had come following the vision, of a Red Hart and a Golden Dragon.
“Driant has no wish to rule over Camelot or the five kingdoms. He only wants what is best for his people. We spoke of it, through mixed tongues, of ruling together, our two kingdoms. I will not abandon this alliance for convenience.”
“You are Queen now,” Mithian says softly, “You may not have a choice.”
“The emperor-,” L’Ector begins.
“Will send aid if he wishes to keep from being invaded if we fall,” Mithian cuts in. “Do you really think the Picts will stop with just the five kingdoms? The simplest solution would be to marry D’Alene.”
“And set a traitor upon the throne?” the Comte de Dieu asks with a hiss.
“If it is true, then our first course would be to bind his loyalty, to fight of the invasion,” she says with a glare at the Royal Commander. There are murmurs everywhere as people start voicing their opinions.
Merlin shakes himself and says softly, “No. Even if we did secure his loyalty, we still have the Pictish invasion. I have seen their numbers, I know what we would be up against and even with D’Alene’s men, we would never survive. And we would be betrayed the moment we came to the decision by Nimueh. She corresponds with Arrœk and he would be tipped off.”
“Then we bring Nimueh de l’Isle in to custody,” Morganor says gruffly.
“Do you think it would be that easy to hold her? It is no coincidence that she is with her kin and not in Camelot,” Merlin says, eyeing the large lord.
“What I want to know is why she would betray us? What could possibly be worth the risk?” Dame Maliasa Bulor asks. They all turn to look at Merlin.
Merlin trembles slightly under their stares. Taking a breath, he lets it out before speaking. “The L’Isle House has always played the Game of Houses and Thrones. And this time, the whole of Albion is the stakes. But she has made a mistake with me and it is our only advantage. But do not expect another. If you feel D’Alene is our biggest threat, than you are falling into her trap.”
“I will not allow that man to revolt with my army,” Pellinore growls out.
“But we do not know if they are revolting or not. We need to find a way to the truth,” L’Ector murmurs.
“Without tipping out hand, of course,” the Commander says, eyeing the Duc. L’Ector just smirks and nods.
“Where are Prince Dillon’s Men stationed?” Uriens asks. “If I recall, D’Alene was trying to gain control of them.”
“In Escetia, under Persant’s control, but they are an insubordinate bunch,” Pellinore says, nodding towards his son.
“My cousin was always a patient man,” Uriens says with a smile, remembering the prince. “He had Morgause for a mother,” he says, glancing at Morgana who is the woman’s half-sister. Morgana doesn’t even twitch at the slight. “Perhaps we should give D’Alene them. Let them ride with him, test the loyalties of D’Alene’s men.”
“And how do we guarantee their loyalty?” Mithian asks. “If you’ll recall, it was the Pendragon line that had their leader killed.”
“Yes, Uther, but what if Morgana were to recall Cenred de la Escetia and his daughter Dalia from exile?” Uriens continues.
“And strip away my son’s stewardship of the Escetian throne?” Pellinore asks with a glare, voice low.
“Your son may be a good man, but he is not of the Escetian line, nor one of their nobles. They would never accept him unless he was to become one of them…say through marriage,” Uriens says coolly back.
“Dalia,” Mithian says softly.
“Exactly,” Uriens nods.
Morgana turns to Uriens. “Without the Escetian army, we would be left with only half our defenses. Comte de Isidore, your cousin has committed a crime against this throne and the five kingdoms. If given a chance to redeem himself, would he take it?”
“My lady, he is an Alban in exile. Given the chance, he will take it and be twice as fierce to prove his loyalty,” Uriens murmurs.
Morgana bites her lip in thought before nodding. “I assume you know where he resides?” Uriens nods. “We will speak with the soldiers first and tell them that their loyalty and discretion holds their king’s redemption in the Balance. Will you do this for me?”
Uriens nods. “Good. I have spoken with Tristan de la Bois and with Duc L’Ector’s help; we have gained a truce between us. They have men they can provide us and many of their merchants deal with the places close to the mountains. He is also willing to provide information and we need it badly. We need anything we can get and it needs to be gathered secretly. Will you help me?”
By the end of the day, when night has fallen, each has pledged to gather what they can with discretion. The knights, under the Knight Commanders approval, will be used as messengers, creating a network between each of the major parties.
Finally, Duc L’Ector brings the conversation back to where they had originally started. “We have started the path to dealing with invasion and civil war, but what of your crippled lad?”
Uriens stand and answers, “Driant mab Drekana escaped his cousin’s attack and has fled with his sisters and mother and some warriors to the western most point of Hibernia and have taken refuge amongst the Wigend. Although they have asked the Wigend to help retake the throne from Galway, they have refused.”
“Yes, yes, we know this. Is that all Kilgharrah was able to get, despite his vast intelligence?” L’Ector asks.
“No,” Juliana says lowly. “Kilgharrah was in contact with Petit who carried a petition to the Fisher King asking for passage for Driant and his people to cross. Once they reached Alban soil, he and Morgana would wed and Albion would aid him in regaining his throne as would he aid in our time of need.”
“And the Fisher King’s answer?” Mithian asks.
“He answered that ‘When the Red Hart rules in Hibernia, the Fisher King will accede.’ That was Petit’s message to Kilgharrah,” Juliana says.
“That makes no sense,” the Comte Highpass says.
“It does though. There are four main houses in Hibernia: Blæc Beran, the Black Bear to the north; Read Heorot, the Red Hart to the south; Grene Hengest, the Green Horse to the east; and Fealo Leo, the Yellow Lion to the west. Galway is a member of the Black Bear house and Driant is from the Red Hart house. The Red Hart House is the head, the one to unite all of Hibernia. The Fisher King will grant our request, so long as we help him regain his throne,” Juliana says.
Merlin frowns, a memory nagging at the back of his mind. He jerks his head up and turns to look a Gwaine, “Remember, in the inn? ‘Do not discount the Read Heorot.’ Don’t discount the Red Hart.” Merlin looks up to see everyone staring at him again.
“What are you talking about?” Morgana asks.
“Some years ago, I was with Gwaine in the inn. Someone said those words, but when we looked there was no one there. I didn’t understand what it meant at the time, but now…it means Prince Driant.”
“Perhaps if the Wigend knew of the Fisher King’s pledge, they would help him. If only Kilgharrah weren’t dead. He could speak Hibernian as well as the girl.” Morgana turns to Juliana, “I would send you, but Gaius has informed me that a sea voyage would only worsen your condition.”
“So he has told me,” she says with a small smile. “But my lady, you are forgetting. Kilgharrah had two wards.” She turns to look at Merlin.
“What!” Merlin says, looking back at Juliana.
“Merlin speaks the language and he is taught by Kilgharrah himself. He could take Kilgharrah’s place as Queen’s Ambassador.”
“But, I’m just…I can’t…I can’t be ambassador,” Merlin says, shaking his head.
“You are more cut out for it than anyone here, boy,” L’Ector says. “The fact that you double-crossed not only the Pictish Warlord, but escaped and made it here to warn us is enough to go on besides the fact that your teacher was Kilgharrah.”
“I barely survived that and I couldn’t do it again,” Merlin says.
“You would not be alone and besides, the Hibernians are not the Picts. You would be there as ambassador, not a slave,” Morgana says, looking directly at Merlin.
Merlin can only stare, shocked into frozenness. Sighing, Arthur bows slightly to Morgana before moving to stand in front of Merlin, catching his gaze and holding it. “Merlin, you will not go alone. I will be there,” Arthur says softly, for Merlin’s ears alone.
“Merlin?” Morgana says and Merlin looks at the new Queen. She is young, just a few years older than Merlin and she looks uncertain, but her eyes show the steel of her resolve. “Will you accept this role?”
Merlin swallows and glancing once at Arthur, he nods. “I will, your highness. I will go.”
Morgana nods and for a moment, her shoulders sag in relief before straightening. “Now, to get you to the Royal Admiral safely,” Morgana says softly.
“Where is he at?” Merlin asks.
“Off the peninsula closest to Hibernia: Porte,” Morgana says.
“I think I have an idea to get there, you majesty,” Gwaine says aloud, all eyes turning towards him.
When Morgana nods for him to continue, Gwaine does, “There are old roads that only the Druids use. There is one that leads to Porte. Only a Druid or someone who knows the signs will know the road exists. It would be simple to disguise ourselves as a Druid group, moving to a new camp. No one would suspect us.”
“And you know someone who can find this road?” L’Ector drawls, looking at Gwaine.
“I do,” Gwaine says easily. When Merlin looks at him in confusion, he continues, “My mother and I lived with a Druid group for a while until we came to Camelot.”
Morgana nods, “So be it. If you can show the way, I will supply anything you need. Talk with my chancellor, he will outfit you with whatever you deem necessary for this journey.” Gwaine nods and bows his head to her. Morgana turns to the rest, “It has been decided. It is late and I am sure you are all tired. Feel free to ask what you will from the kitchen staff. We will reassemble in the morning.” They all bow as Morgana leaves.
~*~
Merlin slips out before anyone can stop him. Arthur and Gwaine find him later, holed up in his room on his bed. The dragon egg rests in the cradle of his lap. “What is that?” Gwaine asks, shutting and locking the door behind them.
Merlin glances up to see them watching him. “It…it’s a dragon egg,” Merlin says softly, running a fingertip over the smooth shell. The egg is warm to the touch, magic tingling underneath it.
“What?” Gwaine asks, coming closer.
“One of Kilgharrah’s books in his library was on dragons…and Dragonlords,” Merlin admits. “It said that the last Dragonlord was the warlock before me and that apparently, I’m descended from him.” Merlin doesn’t look up at Gwaine.
“A Dragonlord, huh?” Gwaine says, settling on the bed near Merlin’s feet. “Well, that certainly makes your Mearcung fitting,” Gwaine says with a chuckle.
Merlin goes to say something, but is stopped by a yawn. “You should sleep,” Arthur says softly.
Merlin’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. Nodding, Merlin curls up on the bed, egg cradled close to his chest. Arthur pulls the blanket up over him, tucking them in. Merlin falls asleep to the sound of Arthur and Gwaine’s voices a low murmur in the background.
~*~
Merlin
Merlin
Merlin!
Merlin jerks up, looking around blearily, trying to figure out who is calling his name. Arthur and Gwaine are still up and they look over at him. “Did someone call my name?” he asks, yawning.
“No,” Gwaine says.
Frowning, Merlin rubs absently at the egg still pressed close to him.
Merlin!
Merlin jerks again, looking around. Merlin rolls to his knees, looking around. “Who keeps calling my name?” he asks aloud.
Here
Frowning, Merlin glances down where his hand still touches the egg.
Yes!
“You?” Merlin asks, leaning down to bring the egg to eye level. Something thumps against the inside of the shell and Merlin jerks his hand back. “You’re alive? Why don’t you come out of your shell?” Merlin asks, unaware of Gwaine and Arthur coming closer to the bed.
Help
“How do I help you?” Merlin asks.
Name
“Name? You mean I need to call your name?” The egg rocks a bit on the next thump. “All right, but I don’t know your name?” Merlin says.
Know
“All right,” Merlin says with uncertainty. Still frowning a little, Merlin closes his eyes and drags in a breath. He can feel his magic and he goes into it instead of pulling it out. A thread of it travels down his arm to the egg, connecting him.
Something about it calls to him and he follows it to the egg. The moment he enters the egg, his vision goes golden and something bursts forth in his mind, a word, a name. “Aithusa,” the names bursts from his mouth.
Merlin is finally able to let go of the egg and as he does, there’s a loud cracking sound. Merlin opens his eyes to find Arthur holding up his sagging body. On the bed, amongst the cracked shell and slime, sits a little white dragon.
“Well, how do I explain this?” Merlin says softly. Next to his, Gwaine snorts.
~*~
Merlin spends the morning hidden away in his room, studying the little white dragon. Aithusa is about the length of his arm, including his tail. He has bright blue eyes and it doesn’t take long before the little thing gains the ability to fly and knock things off of the wall.
When Aithusa lands on the small ceiling fixture, Merlin glares up at him, “Get back down here.”
He doesn’t here the door open, but he does here someone gasp. Merlin whirls around to see Morgana standing in the doorway, eyes glued to Aithusa. “My lady,” Merlin says, panic starting to rise in his throat.
“Is that?” she says softly.
“Yes, my lady, this is Aithusa,” Merlin says.
Morgana shuts the door with a snap, walking further in, though she doesn’t take her eyes off of the dragon. “I thought they all died?” she says, looking at Merlin.
“So did I, but I found his egg in a cave we stayed in. There was a Dragonlord’s symbol carved into the wall. He hatched last night,” Merlin says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Aithusa, curious about the new arrival, pushes off from the fixture and glides down to the bed, looking up at Morgana.
“Are you…a Dragonlord?” Morgana asks. Merlin nods. “But how?”
“It’s a long story,” Merlin says softly. Looking up at Morgana, he asks, “Did you need anything, my lady?”
“Oh, um, yes. I have brought someone to see you,” Morgana admits.
Merlin nods and stands. “Will he be all right, by himself?’ Morgana asks.
“He’ll fall asleep soon and I’d like to keep him a secret for now,” Merlin admits.
“All right. This way,” Morgana says, leading Merlin out of the room. Merlin glances back to see Aithusa curled up on the bed, blue eyes following him. Smiling, he shuts the door behind him.
~*~
What Merlin expected and what he saw, are two different things. Master Morholt Saracen is standing in the room Morgana leads him too. Merlin stops, heart in his throat as he looks between the tattooist and Morgana.
“I would prefer my Ambassador to be free before I sent him on my mission,” Morgana says with a smile.
“Well, boy, let’s get to it. We have an unfinished contract between us,” Saracen says, motioning Merlin forward where a cloth covered table waits.
Morgana leaves them and Merlin strips out of his clothing, lying on the table. “Where is you apprentice?” Merlin asks as the man gets his things together.
“Gone. He was taken by the sickness,” Saracen says simply. “You will be my last piece. I’m too old to start over.”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin murmurs as the man lays the tapper against his skin and strikes it. Time seems to slow then. With his magic suffusing him, Merlin’s world narrows to the sharp pain of the needles stamping ink into his skin. With each tap, his magic hooks itself into the point. With each tap, he is a step closer to finally being free.
It seems to take an eternity, but what is probably only a few hours, Master Saracen stops, finished. Merlin thanks him and the old man grunts in acknowledgement, seeing to his things. Merlin quickly dons his clothing and slips out of the room.
~*~
Back in his room, Merlin strips again and stands in front of the full length mirror. Pants low on his hips; he can just see the base. The dragon, long and sinuous, stares back at him with golden eyes. Wrapped around a sword obscured by its wings and limbs, Merlin stares at the Drycræft symbols written on the blade of the sword: Take me up. Cast me away. It had seemed fitting before and it still is.
He can see Aithusa behind him on the bed and the dragon’s eyes seem to glow with approval. There is a knock at the door and Morgana comes in, shutting the door. “Is it done?” she asks. Merlin nods and turns to show her. “It is fitting…Dragonlord.”
Merlin shrugs and slips his tunic on over his head, the cloth brushing against his tender skin. “I wanted to bring you this,” Morgana admits. She hands him a slim book, bound in smooth leather. “It is Ygraine’s diary, from before her marriage to Uther. It…it explains a lot about Kilgharrah, how she met him. Mayhap you’ll finally learn the truth of your master,” Morgana says softly.
“Thank you, my lady,” Merlin whispers.
Morgana nods, “You leave tomorrow. Be ready.”
~*~
With morning comes Gwaine and things for their journey. Gwaine shoves a bundle of clothing at Merlin. Inside is a homespun shirt in dark green, brown breeches underneath it. Over it goes a brown jacket and a light grey cloak.
The others are in similar dress. A small wagon and horses wait for them. Gwaine walks up with a grin. “Merlin you will be driving the wagon. You will be my cousin from my father’s side. Arthur is a fellow traveler who joined up with us on our way to Porte, but he not a Druid, which will explain the sword just fine.”
They both nod. Merlin quickly scrambles up into the driver’s seat while servants load their things onto the wagon. Morgana, Juliana, L’Ector, Uriens, Gaius and Alice all stand watching them get ready. Stepping forward, Morgana swept her gaze over them. “Be safe,” she says softly.
“We will,” Merlin says. Beside him, his pack wiggles, Aithusa restless at being confined inside it. Nodding, Morgana steps back and with a flick, Merlin has the wagon moving, Arthur and Gwaine following on their horses. Soon, the others fade from sight and the trees close up around them.
~*~
Part 7