Trials | Merlin FanFiction (Merthur)

Chapitre Huit

It was Lancelot who brought up the problem of what to do next, several days later. The weather had eased slightly, and Arthur and Lancelot had been sparring. Lancelot had gotten terribly good at swordcraft, and Arthur had been trained to the blade since he could toddle--together, the two of them had attracted quite an audience, and the fight had lasted far longer than it should have, both men toying with their opponent.

"Arthur," Lancelot said after the fight, his voice very sober and serious, if a little distracted. He was sharpening his sword and eyeing the blade critically, "you know you can't stay here forever. What do you plan to do?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, and Merlin wasn't fooled by the casualness of the reply. Arthur threw the last dagger at a wooden plank set up as a target, ran a hand through his hair, and walked across the room to pull them out, dumping them into a basket. "I'm exiled, Lancelot. My father believes me guilty of treason. What do you suggest that I do, overthrow my father and take back Camelot by force?"

Lancelot took a deep breath, but Merlin beat him to it. "Yes," he said, and met Arthur's shocked, angry glare without flinching. "Arthur, it's the only way. You know it is. You can't leave the kingdom--Uther will see you dead before he lets you seek refuge in another ruler's lands. And you can't stay here forever. He'll come for you, he'll find you, if he has to level Albion to do it."

"You think so, yeah? And just how do you know that?" Arthur growled. He threw a knife at the target, and it sunk into the wood soundly, a hairsbreadth from the center.

"Because that's what he did to magic-users," Merlin said, and Arthur flinched. He threw another knife, and it landed just to the right of the first. "He killed them all, Arthur. He hunted them and killed them. He's still killing them. He won't stop, once he gets it into his head, he'll keep going until he finds you, no matter how long it takes."

"It isn't just that," Lancelot said, quietly. Another knife thunked into the target, deeper than the others and farther from the center. "Arthur--sire, it's a question of honor. The only way to preserve yours is to return to your due place. You are the prince of Camelot, it is your right and your duty to ascend to the throne."

"In due time," Arthur said, savagely. He threw a fourth knife. It hit well away from the others, listing at a precarious angle, only shallowly buried. "Not while my father still lives. And you're a fine one to talk of honor," he added bitterly, "a liar who deceived me to gain admittance to the knighthood."

Lancelot winced and looked away. "I'm sorry for that," he said quietly. "I did what I thought was right, and I was wrong. I have tried to make amends for the wrongs I caused, and I regret what I did. But I'm right about this," he added steadily, and Arthur turned away. "Arthur, you know I'm right."

"So you would have me turn traitor for real?" Arthur said harshly, and threw his last knife. It hit the target badly, skittered off into the corner, but Arthur had already whirled to face him. "You would have me usurp the throne, make myself truly an oathbreaker. That's what you see as the solution to this disaster?" Arthur's eyes glittered. "Get out. Now."

Merlin stood up, stepped between Arthur and Lancelot with a hand on Arthur's chest. Behind him, Lancelot stood and bowed, carefully.

"My lord," Lancelot said, softly, and left, while Arthur's chest heaved under Merlin's hand, Arthur's angry, ragged breathing loud in the sudden quiet.

"He's right," Merlin said, after a very long time, when the frantic pulse under his hand had calmed, and Arthur's breathing was even and calm again.

Arthur shivered and stepped back. He looked bleak, empty--resigned.

"I know he is," Arthur said, heavily. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"The most important thing we need," Arthur said intently, "is information."

"Yes?" Merlin said, guardedly. Arthur was smiling, so immediately he was suspicious. "Wait, information?" Merlin was struck by a sudden through. "What kind of information, exactly?"

"I need to know what my father is planning," Arthur said grimly, changing tracks in the space between one breath and another. "If he's coming after me--and I'm sure he will--I need to know his plans, his movements. And I need to." Arthur stopped, and looked a bit sick.

"Arthur?" Merlin said, after a minute.

Arthur made a small, almost helpless gesture, and something inside Merlin ached to see the look on his face, bleak and determined. "My father will never let me come back, Merlin," Arthur said, quietly. "Not willingly. Sooner rather than later, he will write me out of the succession formally--and we know who it passes to, in that case."

"Aelfric," Merlin said numbly.

"Yes. Aelfric will become my father's heir, which is exactly what he was trying to accomplish. And I will not permit that to happen." Arthur looked fierce. "He'll be the ruin of Camelot--he's already brought his barony to near-ruin, although it isn't common knowledge. I will not let him get his hands on Camelot, if that means having to--to fight my father, to prevent it." Arthur took a deep breath. "If I am to fight him, I must have knights on my side. I must find out who of the knights of Camelot is loyal to me, and will come to my banner."

Merlin winced, and Arthur gave him a bitter smile. "I know," he said, "ironic. I am accused of treason, of which I am entirely innocent, and to defend myself against it, I must turn traitor for real." He looked away, and his mouth was tight, his posture rigid.

Merlin stepped forward, and lay a tentative hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur held himself stiffly for a second, and then relaxed, leaning into the touch minutely. Merlin stroked his shoulder, gently, and then stepped away, giving Arthur privacy to compose himself again.

"If I am to put together an army to take back my rightful place," Arthur continued after a minute, only a faint shiver in his voice giving away his pain, "we must have information. I need to communicate with the knights that I trust, and that means I need to return."

"You mean, go back to Camelot?" Merlin stared in disbelief. "Arthur, are you mad?"

"It has to be done," Arthur said shortly--and, Merlin noted, without disagreeing with him--and stood. "I'll leave in the morning. I know some back ways into the castle, I'm sure I can avoid being captured."

"Over my dead body," Merlin said tightly. "You're not going anywhere near Camelot."

"And how are you going to stop me?" Arthur snapped. "Remember who you speak to, Merlin."

"Oh, I would find a way," Merlin muttered. "Don't make me do it. And you're not going."

"I have no choice," Arthur said. "I have to know what's happening."

"You're not going," Merlin repeated stubbornly. Arthur threw something across the room--from the clatter it sounded like a drinking cup, and shot a lethal look at Merlin, who met it squarely.

"So what do you propose, then?" Arthur said sarcastically. "Are you just going to magic up a few knights, information, an army?"

"No." Merlin squared his shoulders. "I'm going."

"Impossible." Arthur looked appalled by the very thought. "You'd be killed in the first thirty seconds. Not to mention--you're a servant. Who's going to listen to you?"

Merlin just grinned.

"This is a bad idea," Arthur said, scowling. They had made a smalltemporary camp three hours ride from Camelot, and it was still well beforedawn. The fire was low, well-banked coals that gave heat but little smoke orlight, and Arthur was a pale smudge in the darkness. They were alone--Lancelothad volunteered to stay and continue to train with the recruited Druids, thelaborious process of shaping men more accustomed to raiding and guerrillatactics into formation fighters that could face trained knights too importantto postpone until their return.

"This was your idea," Merlin pointed out, with whathe thought was impressive restraint, tightening the girth of the gelding.

"Oh, get out of the way," Arthur said, and pushed him over. He bootedhis knee into the horse's belly and it huffed, visibly deflating. Merlin gaveit a betrayed look as Arthur tugged the strap tighter. "And no, it wasn'tmy idea that you should go back into the teeth of danger--alone--and try andpreach sedition among my father's knights."

"Your knights," Merlin said patiently, "not his. And yes, itwas."

"My idea was to go myself, not to send you in alone and unarmed,"Arthur said grimly. "What if you get caught?"

"Then I'll magic myself out of it," Merlin said firmly. "Trustme--they won't catch me. If they do, they definitely won't hold me for long. Ipromise. But--you were right. For once," he added cheerfully, and Arthurglared to cover up a sudden look of amusement. "We need information,Arthur. "

Arthur didn't look like this opinion made him happy, but he sighed, resigned."Go, then, but for heaven's sake be stealthy about it. Do not letthem hold you." Merlin nodded obediently. "I mean it, Merlin. I amordering you to defend yourself if you are apprehended, no matter the cost, doyou understand?" He stared daggers at Merlin, obviously expecting Merlinto argue that he wouldn't kill blameless men-at-arms for his freedom.

Merlin, for his part, had no intention of objecting, even without thebadly-hidden concern in Arthur's eyes. He nodded, and put a reassuring hand onArthur's forearm. "I won't," he promised, low, and Arthur covered hishand with his own, before pulling away.

"Speak to Gawain first," he said finally, "and Kay, and Galahad.Use whatever magics you need. Trust no one else. Return quickly to me,"and that last Merlin had every intention of obeying, if at all possible."And--my father's prohibition on magic," he said finally. "Inever agreed with it, although it was not in my power to change. That willchange now. If I'm to be executed," he said, with a flash of dark humor,"I may as well be executed for more than one reason. Show the knights yourabilities, if you deem it valuable, let them see that their prince has morethan simple righteousness on his side."

Merlin blinked, and didn't bother to hide his surprise. "Are yousure?" Arthur glared. "I mean, I will, sire," he said, andArthur took hold of his shoulder, dragged him closer. Merlin wentunquestioningly, and he expected Arthur to inspect his borrowed armor, butArthur instead hugged him, roughly.

"It's. I'll be back soon," he said into Arthur's neck, aiming forreassuring but mostly coming out plaintive, but Arthur was already pushing himaway, hands firm on his shoulders, digging in a little. Merlin blinked at him,startled at the sudden contact, and Arthur kissed him, hard and hot and wet,possessive.

"See that you do," Arthur said hoarsely, and let him go, and Merlintook deep breaths and forced himself to stumble away. His mouth felt swollen,and his skin tingled, and he wanted very badly to go back to Arthur, but heforced himself to mount.

Safely on the gelding's back, Merlin let himself look back. Arthur wasn'tlooking at him, though; he was facing away, looking at their dim campfire.

"I'll be back soon," Merlin said, a promise, an oath; and he kickedthe gelding almost desperately, because if he didn't, he would never leave.