Chapter Text
An impromptu feast was held in Arthur's honour, although Merlin wondered whether it was intended to entice him into staying. If openly practising magic were an option, and Aithusa could have been at Merlin and Gwaine’s side, the evening would have been perfect.
As they sat around the fire, the meal over, one of the bolder children approached Gwaine with a flower crown. Gwaine accepted it with a smile, bending down for the child to place it upon his head. He whispered something in the child's ear, she ran off, returning moments later with a flower crown for Arthur.
Merlin saw the hesitation, the suspicion with which Arthur eyed the flowers bloomed out of season. The magic used in its creation was obvious, but subtle enough that Arthur had no grounds upon which to object. He wondered how many others had been prosecuted for such insignificant, harmless displays.
Gwaine responded to Arthur's reluctance with compliments on the handicraft, expressing delight at the variation in vibrant colours.
Unwilling to be shown up by anyone, least of all Gwaine, Arthur accepted the crown with a grimace he claimed was a smile.
A tune filled the air as a strumming lute was accompanied by a flute, Gwaine asked Merlin to dance, laughing good-naturedly as Merlin tripped over his feet, catching him before any harm could befall him.
He tried to ignore Arthur’s souring mood, uncertain whether it was because he was being asked to wait for his answers, or because he had to play gracious guest to those he had hunted for most of his life. It could only help matters for Arthur to be forced to see those he had slaughtered as people, people who enjoyed good food, music, and company. People who asked for little more than the freedom to exist as themselves.
Focusing on Gwaine’s smile, following as he led their dance with a practised ease, Merlin allowed himself to imagine a future where he could openly sit at Gwaine’s side, all aspects of himself acknowledged and respected.
Arthur kept his patience until the children were corralled for the night.
“Have patience,” the druid leader said, “all of your questions will be answered in time.”
“I have been patient,” Arthur countered, “if I didn’t know any better I’d begin to think that this is all a distraction to allow Morgana time to capture us.”
“We do not work with Morgana, she fights against the natural order of things. We have no wish to see her rule.”
“She would bring about the return of magic. Is that not what you desire?”
“As will Emrys, but with far less bloodshed. We have no wish for unnecessary death. Emrys’s time will soon be upon us.”
“You know him then?”
“His coming has long been foretold, it is an honour to live in his time.”
“Where can I find him?”
“He will reveal himself, we hope it will not take too much longer, but we are unable to divulge his identity before he deems it time.”
“What can you tell me of him? I hear he’s supposedly a friend to Camelot.”
“Indeed he is. It is said that Emrys will work at the side of the once and future king to return magic to Camelot.”
“This sorcerer intends to replace me with a king of his choosing?”
“Not at all; he has immense faith in you and the great king you will one day be.”
“Some would say that I’m already a great king, that I treat my subjects fairly.”
“Yet others would say that they still live in hiding, fearing for their lives. Your visit, although unexpected, is not unwelcome. Perhaps it is a sign that things will begin to change for the better.”
“What can you tell me of Morgana?”
“She and Emrys are foes, their fates are interwoven, she is the darkness to his light.”
“She certainly casts a shadow upon Camelot. If Emrys is such a powerful light, why do I not notice his presence?”
“Do you acknowledge the warmth and light of the sun, or do you merely accept its presence, taking it for granted that it will be there day after day? Perhaps you are too accustomed to Emrys’s presence to think to question it.”
“Are you saying he has a hold over me?”
“I do not believe that Emrys would ever raise a hand against you, even in self-defence. Your thoughts and feelings about Emrys are your own, he would not wish to coerce you into any course of action you did not believe in.”
“You say that this man is a friend to Camelot, yet I’ve never met him.”
“I believe you have, although perhaps by another name. Certainly under the previous king’s rule, to show himself would have meant death. Is there cause to believe that it would be any different under your rule?”
“Of course it would be different,” Arthur insisted, but Merlin knew him too well not to hear the doubt, the admission to himself that he was as likely to kill Emrys as to take him as an ally if there were any doubt as to his intentions. “What of the dragon?”
“What of it?”
“Did Emrys free it?”
“He did, it was not yours to imprison.”
“Nor was it his to free.”
“Dragons are creatures of magic, as such their care falls under his purview. The dragon was harmed in Camelot, so Emrys came to its aid.”
“Will he turn against us for having harmed the dragon?”
“I believe he would forgive you, if you learned from your mistakes.”
“Are you certain you can’t tell me where to find him?”
“Forgive me, King Arthur, but it is late. We can continue to talk in the morning.”
“Of course, we thank you for your hospitality, and your help so far. Merlin, with me.”
Merlin readied Arthur for bed, wondering what thoughts went on behind the stoic mask. He knew it had been a long few days, and decided not to press, knowing that Arthur would likely mull things over throughout the night.
“Good night, Arthur,” Merlin arranged the blankets around Arthur.
“Wait,” Arthur replied, “if you were me, what would you make of this supposed ally who hides within our walls.”
“I think,” Merlin answered slowly, “that if he meant us harm we would have been aware of his presence before now.”
“Why would a friend hide in the shadows?”
“Perhaps it is not his role to be noticed. Not all belong in the public eye.”
“How am I supposed to rule with someone I haven’t met, or I’m not aware I’ve met?”
“Perhaps you could be the one to extend the olive branch, let him know that he would be safe within Camelot.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You could repeal the magic ban.”
“This is why you’re not in charge of any of the important decisions,” Arthur laughed.
“So you’ve said,” Merlin swallowed down the bitter disappointment at the outright dismissal.
“Good night.”
“Good night, sire.”
Merlin left Arthur’s tent, heading immediately for the trees where he hoped to find Aithusa; he could do with the comfort of someone who would understand his plight, another who was unjustly ostracised. To his delight, he found not only Aithusa, but also Gwaine.
“There he is!” Gwaine exclaimed, sounding genuinely delighted at Merlin’s presence, greeting him with an embrace.
As exhausted as he was, Merlin’s mood improved as the three of them played together. With the other knights abed, Merlin let his guard drop, for the first time all day he felt at peace. He barely registered the approaching footsteps as a threat before a sack was thrown over his head, and a cold metal enclosed his throat.
~
Merlin came around, feeling as though he had been dragged some distance by the collar around his neck. The sack kept the world dark, and the collar kept it distant.
“Aithusa? Gwaine?” Merlin attempted to call, but it came out as barely a whisper.
Merlin bit back a cry as his arms were yanked back behind him, tearing the stitches, the rope chaffing his wrists. He was brought to his knees, and the sack was pulled off, careless of the hair grabbed along with it. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Merlin was relieved to find Gwaine not far from his side. Evidently they had grabbed Merlin first as Gwaine had fought back, the evidence written across his face in blood and bruises.
“Stop,” Gwaine ordered. “I am a knight of Camelot. My absence will not go unnoticed.”
“That’s the idea,” a mercenary replied.
“Don’t worry,” Gwaine reassured Merlin, “I’ll get us out of this.”
A cruel laugh came in response. “I think not.”
Morgana.
“Fuck,” a small voice said.
If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Merlin would have laughed. Aithusa’s first word, and she’d perfectly understood the circumstances where its use was appropriate. He’d have to mind his language around her, assuming they got out of this.
“So she can speak, even better, and what language you’ve been teaching her,” Morgana delighted, “I really ought to thank you for bringing her somewhere I could retrieve her.”
“If you want her,” Merlin croaked out, “you'll have to go through me.”
“Oh, I intend to, although I have to question what fight you could possibly offer me. You’ve already been captured. It’s over. She’s mine.”
“Never!”
“This is all beside the point. These fools may have captured a worthless serving boy when they were instructed to bring me Emrys, but I can work with this. Despite being such a nuisance, Arthur is strangely attached to you. If Arthur wants you and his knight returned, all he has to do is hand Emrys over to me. It should be a simple decision considering how he disapproves of magic users. You’ll be free to go just as soon as I have what I want.”
“You have to let Merlin go,” Gwaine attempted, “let him present the bargain. How else will Arthur know what’s at stake?”
“Don’t worry your little head so, we left a ransom note. Neither of you will be going anywhere.”
“We don’t know who Emrys is, we’d never heard of him until your failed attack upon Camelot.”
“You honestly expect me to believe that he’s weaved such a level of spellwork over the citadel without anyone’s knowledge? No, this is someone who’s spent months if not years layering protective spells, mostly defensive, but there are some cruel offensive ones in there as well, I could tell.”
“What would you do with him, if you knew who he was? Team up?”
“Team up? No, he’s made it quite clear he has no interest in an alliance. There’s only one thing I see in Emrys’s future: his death.”
If Gwaine had any doubt about Merlin’s loyalty to Camelot, Morgana was convincing him otherwise with every word, unfortunately that didn’t help their predicament any.
“I’ll give you some time to mull it over,” Morgana said. “Any time you decide you’d like to spare yourself further harm, tell me where Emrys is and I’ll let you go. Come here, dragon.”
Morgana stood expectantly, waiting for Aithusa to join her.
“You don’t have to go with her,” Merlin said, barely a whisper, but Aithusa heard him.
“You stole her!” Morgana accused. “Come here, dragon, it’s alright now. I won’t let these cruel men harm you again.”
Merlin whimpered as his arms were pulled violently, Aithusa turned to him.
“No, don’t worry about him,” Morgana said, “I’ll take care of him, I promise you.”
“‘Thusa,” Merlin rasped, “please, think about what Morgana’s doing, how she hurts anyone who gets in her way. She only cares about the power with which you can provide her.”
“Enough!” Morgana’s hand shot out towards Merlin, sending him tumbling.
Aithusa ran after him, licking his cheek until he opened his eyes again.
“You would betray me?” Morgana demanded, angered at Aithusa’s blatant affection. “After all I’ve done for you?”
“What have you done for her?” Merlin asked. “It may have been those of Camelot who hurt her, but she had been underfed for far longer than she’d been captured, you harmed her too. Were you afraid that if she felt too well she would choose to leave you? So you made her dependent upon you, trapped her.”
“What have you done to her? You’ve turned her against me!”
Aithusa stood as tall as she could, Merlin behind her as she faced down Morgana. Small though she was, the heat coming off her as the flame within grew was immense, and enough for Morgana to reconsider the wisdom of making Aithusa join her by force.
“You’ll come crawling back, you’ll see,” Morgana threatened. “Your new friends won’t survive the night, and then you’ll have no one. You’ll stay with me, I’m the only one who cares about you.”
Morgana stalked off, already berating the mercenaries for confusing Merlin for a powerful warlock merely because he was wearing robes. Merlin, Gwaine, and Aithusa were left in the clearing, bound and injured, mercenaries only keeping half an eye on them from a distance, looking as though they were reconsidering selling their services to Morgana.
“Morgana wants you dead?” Gwaine asked, awkwardly moving closer to Merlin despite his ties.
“What can I say?” Merlin replied. “I’ve foiled an awful lot of her plans.”
“I don’t know whether to be proud of you, or exasperated that you’ve done all this without telling me.”
“I didn’t want to place you in danger, I can look after myself.”
“And what of your hatchling? Can we count on her not to return to Morgana’s side once more?”
“I can only hope that I mean more to her. The strategic thing for you to do would be to tell Morgana who I am. We both know I wouldn’t be welcome in Camelot if Arthur learned the truth.”
“I’ll never give you up, so don’t even suggest it. What’s with the collar and why don’t I have one?”
“Jealous? Don’t be, it burns like cold iron, it’s intended to suppress magic so they wouldn’t have thought it necessary to give you one.”
“It burns?”
“It feels like being struck by lightning.”
“Can you get it off?”
Merlin shook his head, the pain fogging his ability to think clearly. Something nudged his cheek, and he opened his eyes to find Aithusa looking at him with concern.
“I don’t know,” Merlin said, “I think it would hurt you too, as it does all creatures of magic.”
“Aithusa, could you chew through my ropes?” Gwaine asked. “Maybe if my hands are free I can get the collar off.”
Aithusa made quick work of Gwaine’s binds, leaving him free to assess the collar.
“It’s no use,” Gwaine sat back, “I can’t get the catch opened without some sort of tool.”
“What about a dagger?”
“A dagger would be great right about now, love, but I left my weapons in my tent; I didn’t think the druids would take too kindly to a knight walking around their camp armed.”
“I may have a solution.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“I’ve got a dagger, it’s by my ankle. Use it to break the collar open.” Merlin extended his leg towards Gwaine, the robes falling aside, revealing the concealed blade.
“This is the one I helped you make.”
“It is. It should be powerful enough to counter whatever magic is on the collar.”
“What’s the blade made of?” Gwaine unsheathed the dagger, hesitating to bring it near Merlin’s neck.
“It’s a dragon tooth.”
Gwaine looked sceptical.
“Not Aithusa’s, obviously, she’s too small, there’s another dragon I know, he gifted it to me.”
“Just how many dragons do you know?”
“Only two, they’re all that’s left.”
“What happens if I try to get the collar off with this and the blade slips? I could kill you.”
“You won’t,” Merlin answered with more confidence than he felt.
The collar broke open under Gwaine’s hands, Merlin breathed deeply as the magic surrounding them rushed back to him. Aithusa chewed Merlin’s arms free, he rubbed at his sore wrists.
“Thank you,” Merlin said, “both of you.”
“Seems we make quite the team.”
Aithusa chirped her agreement.
“How heartwarming,” Morgana interrupted, she turned on Aithusa, “you little traitor. I took you in when no one else would, and this is how you repay me?”
Morgana threw out both hands, sending Merlin and Gwaine flying, horrifying cracks resounded as they collided with tree trunks. She turned to berate the mercenaries for being so careless, as though she hadn’t been the one to call them away from their guard.
Merlin regained his feet, with a furious snarling Aithusa at his side, he threw a hand out at Morgana, hurling her away. The mercenaries fled, deciding they valued their lives over whatever payment Morgana had offered them.
“You!” Realisation dawned across Morgana’s face as she stood to face Emrys.
“You have hurt those I love for the last time,” Merlin’s eyes burned gold as he conjured a tornado, sending it directly at Morgana.
She raised her hands, slowing the tornado’s approach and attempting to send it back at Merlin. Aithusa added her power and flame to the tornado, overpowering Morgana. With Morgana thrown to the ground, injured, they allowed the tornado to dissipate.
Despite being bruised and burned, Morgana stumbled to her feet once more, and grabbed Gwaine from behind.
“Let me go,” Morgana demanded, “or Gwaine dies.”
“I don’t think so,” Merlin countered, “let Gwaine go and I’ll make your death quick.”
All Merlin had to do was keep Morgana’s attention on him, if he could just hold her focus long enough for Gwaine to turn to where he could stab Morgana on the first attempt - he knew if Gwaine failed there would be no opportunity for a second. A high priestess she might be, but even that wouldn’t save her from a dragon’s tooth.
Morgana’s body slumped to the ground: the threat finally extinguished.
Gwaine wiped the blade before offering the dagger back to Merlin.
“You’d be unarmed,” Merlin objected.
“I don’t need it, I know you’ll protect me.”
“You still trust me, despite the magic and lies?”
“With my life,” Gwaine answered without hesitation.
Merlin sheathed the dagger. “Being with me, I’ll put you in danger as often as I get you out of it.”
“Could say the same about me, I’ve gotten you into a fair number of scrapes.”
“Gwaine-”
“No. We don’t leave each other behind, alright? No matter what, we’ll be there for each other, regardless of who caused the trouble.”
“Alright,” Merlin nodded. “The three of us should head back to the camp.”
“How will you explain Aithusa? Arthur’ll draw his sword on sight.”
“I’ll tell him that she’s the one who defeated Morgana once and for all. Aithusa could be a powerful ally to Camelot if we welcome her. This could be the beginning of the Golden Age, the return of magic.”
“Whatever happens,” Gwaine took Merlin’s hand, “I’ll be by your side.”
“What do you say, Aithusa, shall we go home?”
Aithusa leapt up and settled on Merlin’s shoulder, “Home.”