Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"Ah, Guinevere," said Arthur rising from behind his desk with a rather brittle smile as she appeared in the doorway of his chambers. "Come in."

Merlin gave Guinevere a smile as he puttered about the room, which she uncharacteristically ignored. She held her back stiff with tension and her mouth in a tight line as she advanced towards Arthur and curtseyed. "My Lord."

"I was wondering if you would do me a favor?" Arthur asked tentatively, stepping around the desk.

"As long as it is not the favor you asked of me last, my Lord."

"No, no this is something completely different. I want you to take this," Arthur took a purse from his desk and placed it in her hand, "and this," he said, snagging Merlin by the arm and dragging him forward as he tried to pass behind the Prince, "and find Merlin a tailor."

"A tailor, my Lord?" asked Guinevere as Merlin eyed the Prince suspiciously.

"Yes," said Arthur more confidently. "I want you to order him three outfits. I know that you are the finest seamstress in Camelot, but I want you to find him someone he can go back to."

Gwen tilted her head in confusion. "I don't understand, my Lord."

Arthur leaned closer to her conspiratorially. "I'm tired of having a servant who perpetually dresses like he's on his way to muck out the stables."

"Hey," protested Merlin.

Arthur's hand tightened painfully on his arm to silence him. "Obviously, I can't trust him to pick out his own clothes. Your taste is always excellent. I'm sure you can spruce him up a bit for me."

Guinevere looked Merlin up and down critically. "What about shoes, my Lord?"

Arthur smiled the brittle smile again, "Whatever you think he needs. I have complete confidence in you."

"Hmm," said Guinevere, turning and heading out the door.

Merlin tried to pry Arthur's grip off his arm. "Do you expect me to get you out of trouble?"

"Yes," replied Arthur, giving Merlin a shove after Guinevere. "Girls love to play dress up."

Shocked fury played across Merlin's features, but he hurried after Guinevere. He had no trouble catching up despite the fact that she was striding along rapidly. "So where are we going?" he asked, giving her a playful smile.

"My house first," she replied, barely giving him a glance.

"Why there?"

"Because I have to know how much Arthur's given me to spend, Merlin," she said in exasperation. "I couldn't count it in front of him, I'm not going to count it in front of the tailor and I certainly am not going to count it in the middle of the street."

"No, of course not."

As soon as they were inside Gwen's house she dropped onto a bench and dumped the contents of the purse onto the table. One coin spun off the edge and Merlin dropped to his knees, scrambling after it. Tossing it onto the pile, Merlin saw that Gwen's mouth had dropped open in surprise. "This is a lot of money, Merlin."

"Arthur hasn't any idea what clothes cost," he said, climbing onto the bench at a right angle to hers.

"This is enough to buy a lord's wardrobe."

Merlin smiled. "And you know you could hand him back an empty purse and the only thing he'd ask is if you had fun." He tried to catch her eye. "He is trying to apologize."

"By sending me out to buy clothes for you?" she asked indignantly. "Most men would try flowers."

"I think he'll get around to flowers when you look a little less like you'll throw them back in his face."

"Do you know what he asked of me?"

"Yeah, I warned him you wouldn't take to it."

"I'm certainly not going to let my brother pick a fight to make me into something I'm not," she said stiffly.

"Gwen, you are every inch a Lady," Merlin assured her.

She dropped her eyes to the table. "I am not and you know it."

He leaned back and said carelessly, "Well, I think you should do it."

She glared at him. "Not you too!"

He tilted his head and said pragmatically, "Better a fight to first blood now than a fight to the death later."

Gwen appeared shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know the realities of being a maid servant better than I do." She eyed him sideways and he leaned closer, putting his hands on the table. "No one would have bothered you while you were Morgana's personal servant. Too much chance she might complain about them to the King, but now that you're in more general work…"

Gwen huffed, "That's the one good thing about Uther; he doesn't condone the abuse of his servants."

"Not that way at least. But if anyone did bother you, it would be a race to see who threw a gauntlet in their face first, Elyan or Arthur."

Gwen's eyes widened in surprise. "You think that someone would try knowing that Elyan is a knight?"

"No, no," he agreed. "But there are always strangers in the castle. Knights who might not be aware of the domestic arrangements?"

Gwen shook her head. "I would never, never tell them. I wouldn't want either of them fighting for me."

"What's a knight supposed to fight for if not to protect family?" When she shook her head again, he said, "Well, you'd better tell me then. I don't have to fight anybody. I can just… get in the way."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course."

"You're a good friend, Merlin." She leaned close and squeezed his hand, then jumped up and started scooping coins back into the purse. "We'd better get going."

"Why the sudden hurry?"

She looked him up and down and then said, "This could take a while."

"What?" he asked, following her into the street. "Do I really look that bad?"

"For Ealdor, probably not. For Camelot, yes."

Merlin did a slow burn as he walked along beside her but managed a polite smile as they entered the tailor's shop. Bolts of cloth were stacked on shelves lining both sides of the tidy shop, most of them of dull monochromatic shades and serviceable weights, such as clothing in this part of town tended to be, though there were a few brighter hues among the others. A short solidly built man put down his scissors and came around a counter piled with neatly folded pieces of cloth pinned to the backs of pattern pieces to greet them. Gwen looked down slightly to meet the man's eyes as she greeted him warmly, "Harwood, I bring you business."

Taking her hands, Harwood replied, "Gwen, I'm always happy to see you whether you bring me business or not. Who's your lean friend?"

"Hi, I'm Merlin," he said, extending his hand.

"Merlin needs absolutely everything new," said Gwen briskly.

"Everything?" asked the tailor, surprise tightening his grip on Merlin's hand before releasing him quickly. His eyes lit with delight as though the two in front of him had just become his favorite people in the world.

Gwen recited, "Three pairs of pants, five shirts…"

Merlin cringed a bit. "Arthur said three."

"Arthur said I was to buy you whatever I think you need," said Gwen primly. "Five. At least one vest, a jacket and a woolen cloak."

"Why would I need all that?" asked Merlin, strangling around a nervous laugh.

Gwen blushed slightly, "Well, the cloak's as much for Arthur's sake as for yours. He's told me that he's woken up under your jacket a few times when he's been hurt and you had nothing else to keep him warm."

"I'm surprised he'd tell you that," sulked Merlin. "He usually throws it at me and complains about having been allowed to sleep."

"Will you be wanting the cloak lined then?" asked Harwood eagerly, having recognized that they were speaking so casually of the Prince and anticipating a rather hansom profit out of the transaction. He stepped to a shelf and brought back a piece of light blue silk.

"That's much too fine for me," protested Merlin, his eyes growing big.

"Oh, but it would be lovely against your skin," said Gwen, holding it up next to his face.

Merlin tried to turn his cringe into a smile as Harwood bustled about bringing over bolts of cloth for Gwen's inspection. "I haven't enough of that for a full lining. A customer insisted I order enough for a shirt and then decided he didn't like the color. There'd be enough to line the hood and tunic length. I'd give you a good price on it just to be rid of it." Harwood dropped a bolt of lightweight unbleached linen on the counter.

"What's that for?" asked Gwen.

"Well, if as you said the gentleman needs everything…" answered Harwood with a shrug.

Gwen's blush was enough to clue Merlin into his meaning. Heat stained his own face as he choked out, "Gwen, I don't care how good of friends we are; you are not picking out my underwear."

During Uther's long illness, Arthur had gotten used to spending the evenings in his Father's chambers. For days Uther had done nothing but stare at the wall. After a while he had begun to talk to Arthur but he had so little to say it was heartbreaking. One night Arthur had suggested a game of chess. They'd played every night for over two months. When Uther finally won a game, Arthur had truly started to believe that his Father would recover. So when Arthur walked in this evening and set up the chessboard, it felt so familiar that Uther smiled.

Arthur, on the other hand, was nervous. He carefully talked to his father of this and that, keeping the conversation light. Finally, he worked up to what he'd come for. "I heard a song the other day, Father. It had your name in it."

"Nothing inappropriate, I hope?" said Uther distractedly.

"I don't know, Father, it wasn't in English. Was kind of pretty though. I was wondering if you'd heard it?"

"I doubt it," Uther shook his head, unconcerned.

"I learned some of it off, if you wouldn't mind?"

Uther gestured for Arthur to go ahead. Arthur carefully began to recite the words he'd learned from the dream. Uther moved another chess piece, not really paying attention at first. Arthur continued, moving one of his own pieces, but not really paying attention to the game. He watched Uther's face instead, which suddenly became concerned and when Arthur said his mother's name, Uther jumped to his feet, shouting, "Where can you have heard that? I want the minstrel's name at once! I will have someone's head!"

Arthur leaned back in his chair. "There wasn't any minstrel. I heard it in a dream. A dream that's been bothering me for days now. That's why I wanted to ask you about it."

"Sorcery," grated Uther. "Only sorcery could have put that into your head."

"What sorcery?" asked Arthur, keeping his face blank with some effort. "It's a dream father. It's annoying, but it's only a dream."

"Guard!" yelled Uther. When the guard poked his head in the door, Uther said, "Find Gaius and send him to me at once." The guard hurried to do as he was bid and Uther began to pace.

Arthur rose from his seat. "Father, you are overreacting."

Uther faced his son and ordered, "Go to your room. I will have Gaius bring you a sleeping draught so that this dream will not bother you tonight and I want you to put it out of your mind."

"But, Father," protested Arthur.

"Go!" shouted Uther.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get any sense out of his Father, Arthur went. Uther continued to pace until Gaius arrived pulling the door closed behind him.

"You sent for me, Sire?" asked Gaius as he bowed.

"Yes, Gaius." Uther kept his voice uncharacteristically low. "There is sorcery afoot. Arthur just described a dream he had, or rather, he recited to me what he heard in the dream. It was a spell, Gaius, Nimuehs' spell, the one that called for Arthur's birth."

"It can't be, Sire" said the physician, looking troubled.

"I know what I heard, Gaius."

"Dreams are products of our own minds, Uther. How would Arthur know that spell in order to dream it?"

"Sorcery, dam you. It has to be sorcery." Uther began to pace again, his eyes shifting madly. "Morgause tried to tell him about it before to turn him against me. This could be just such a ploy. Naturally, Arthur is curious. The dream's been nagging at him for days, he said."

"Does he know what it is?"

"No, no, fortunately it's not in a language he knows. But he heard my name and his mother's. I know Arthur, now that his curiosity's been peaked, he'll worry at the problem until he figures out what that is or he's convinced that there's nothing to find out."

"Let's hope he gets it out of his system quickly then."

Uther put his fingers to his eyes as though in pain. "I shouldn't have yelled. I should have laughed it off. Now he knows there's something I don't want him to know. It will only make him more determined." Suddenly he reached out and grasped Gaius by the shoulders. "Gaius, you could translate it for him. He'll think to ask you sooner or later. You must swear to me that you will not."

"I've already sworn to take this secret to my grave, Uther," said Gaius uncomfortably. "In fact, he may not come to me. Arthur asked me about a dream he was having a few days ago and I told him I couldn't help him."

"What?" asked Uther breathlessly, dropping his hands away.

"He didn't say anything about hearing the spell in it though," the physician assured him hurriedly. "Had he, I would have spoken to you then."

"Good, good. Now you must think carefully Gaius. Is there anyone else in Camelot who could translate that spell for him? Anyone at all?"

Gaius pursed his lips, frowning, debating with himself how to answer his Lord.

"There is, isn't there? Out with it. Who?" demanded Uther.

"Merlin…" Gaius began tentatively.

"Merlin?" roared Uther, cutting Gaius off before he could offer any explanation.

"Merlin might be able to translate it, my Lord," said Gaius, uncomfortably.

Uther demanded, "How does Merlin know the language of spells?"

Gaius pleaded for his King's understanding. "I've taught Merlin many things, Sire. I have no son of my own. I've long hoped that Merlin would take up my life's work."

"Including sorcery?" Uther grated.

Gaius knew better than to look away. Holding firmly to the truth in his statements, he met Uther's steely gaze. "I would never betray you, Sire. A physician must know many things…"

Uther rolled his eyes and turned away, settling his hands on his hips.

"… including ancient languages, if he is to cull the past for answers to the present. In truth, if Merlin wanted to call himself a physician now, he knows more than some I've known to claim the title."

"Right now I'm more worried about what will happen when Arthur asks him for help translating that spell."

Gaius' brow furrowed painfully. "Now that I think about it… he already has Sire."

"What?" screeched Uther.

"As I said, I hadn't realized until now that the spell was spoken in the dream, but I did know that Arthur had asked Merlin's help in understanding it after I refused him and that something had spooked Merlin about it, enough to make him beg off." Gaius took a breath, knowing that he was about to remove some of Merlin's camouflage, but driven by his allegiance to Uther. "Despite what you might think, Sire, Merlin is not an idiot. He knows what that spell is because he heard about it when Ygraine appeared to Arthur. He also knows how Arthur reacted. He thought he'd gotten Arthur put off of learning more about the dream. Apparently, that was too much to hope for."

Uther paced away from Gaius and back again. "So he hasn't translated the spell for Arthur yet?"

Gaius grimaced. "No, Sire."

"Then he's not going to get the chance. Guard!" A guard instantly opened the door. Without waiting for the man to speak, Uther commanded. "Go and arrest Merlin for sorcery. You'll most likely find him in Prince Arthur's chambers."

The guard paled and ran off on his errand.

"But, Sire!" objected Gaius.

Uther raised one finger in the physician's face. "Not another word or you join him."

Arthur stomped into his quarters to find Merlin tidying up the messes he'd left throughout the afternoon. "Where have you been?" Arthur barked.

"Being dressed up like a doll," replied Merlin acerbically. "I have been poked, pinned and measured everywhere at least three times. Really, why the difference in the measurement between my calf and my thigh should be a matter of discussion, I can not begin to understand but apparently the topic was fascinating."

"I'm sure it's because you don't sew, Merlin,"

"Oh, I sew, Arthur. Or have you forgotten who does all of your mending?"

"I didn't send you out to have a good time, Merlin," said Arthur peevishly. "Did Guinevere enjoy her afternoon?"

"I would say so," Merlin huffed. "After the tailor, she dragged me off to the shoemaker. Arthur, I have never owned more than one pair of boots at a time, and now I'm to have three and I'm supposed to know when I'm to wear which pair."

"I take it she emptied the purse I gave her?" the Prince asked absently.

"Oh no," said Merlin briskly, "you'll find it on your desk. I think she left about half of it."

Arthur picked up the purse, weighed it in his hand and dropped it again.

"What's got you in such a dour mood?" asked Merlin.

Arthur leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. "I have been sent to my room."

Merlin raised an eyebrow in surprise. With a laugh in his voice he asked, "And what, pray tell, did you do to get your father to treat you like a naughty little boy?"

"You know that chant in the dream I've been having?"

The smile twitching at Merlin's lips fairly ran from his face. "Oh Arthur, you didn't."

"I recited it for my father. He immediately started screaming about sorcery. I knew he knew something about it." Arthur said through gritted teeth.

Merlin closed his eyes. "Arthur, how could you be so stupid?"

"How dare you?" barked Arthur.

The servant's eyes snapped open. "The same way I always dare, I'm right." Pleadingly Merlin asked, "Arthur, if you wanted to know more, why couldn't you have come to me? We could have kept working on it. What is it you still need to know?"

"How to break that dam spell," shouted Arthur as if that should be obvious.

"Oh, well, that's a simple one, you die," said Merlin, matter-of-factly.

Arthur looked at his servant in horror.

"Don't look at me like that, Arthur. It's simple: you are the vessel for the spell, therefore to break the spell requires your death. But the spell isn't doing any harm, so why break it?"

"No harm?" yelled Arthur. "Merlin, I don't want anyone forced to serve me against their will."

Merlin blew a mocking raspberry. "You didn't have any problem with it when your father assigned me as your servant.

"That was different," sputtered Arthur. "That was a reward."

Merlin grinned, "Yeah, a reward I couldn't turn down."

Arthur straightened up angrily, "If you wish to leave my service…"

"We've been over this, I don't," Merlin said firmly.

A pounding at the door interrupted them. "Sire?" called a masculine voice.

Merlin stepped over and answered the door and was instantly grabbed by two of the three guardsmen who piled through.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Arthur.

Quickly ducking his head, the third guardsman answered, "The King's orders, Sire. Merlin is to be arrested for sorcery."

"Release him at once," commanded Arthur, watching Merlin's face contort in pain from having his arms pulled up behind his back.

"But the King's orders, Sire?" beseeched the guardsman.

"The King is not here. I am. Release him or spend the next week in the stocks," growled Arthur.

The two guardsmen holding Merlin released him and he straightened up, massaging one shoulder and then the other.

"Merlin, you will accompany these men to the dungeon and wait there for me. I will speak to my Father," said Arthur in a reasonable tone.

"I think that's what got me in trouble in the first place," breathed Merlin. When Arthur gave him a sharp look, Merlin acquiesced, "Yes, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes bored into those of the guard who'd spoken before. "Merlin is going to go along with you without resistance. There will be no reason for you to touch him."

"Yes, Sire," the guard bowed, relieved. He led the way out, followed by Merlin and then the other two guards.

Arthur tried to clamp down on his temper, failed and tried again. Merlin would be fine for the moment. Surely Uther could be reasoned with. With those thoughts in mind, Arthur headed for his Father's chamber. Two guards stood outside the door, but they made no challenge to Arthur opening it without knocking. Gaius stood to one side with as severe an expression as Arthur had ever seen on his face in Uther's presence. He bowed as Arthur entered.

Uther turned from pacing. "I told you to go to your room."

"I did," said Arthur struggling to keep his voice reasonable. "And then you sent guards to haul my servant to the dungeons. What's this rubbish about Merlin being a sorcerer?"

"Gaius admits to having taught Merlin sorcerous knowledge. That is enough."

"Languages, Sire," corrected Gaius urgently. Uther gave him a look of warning.

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, trying desperately to hold in his anger. "What are you hiding from me, Father?"

"Return to your room," ordered Uther, dismissing his son with a wave of his hand.

"I will find out," insisted Arthur.

"Guards!" called Uther. As soon as the door opened, he commanded, "Escort Prince Arthur to his room and see that he stays there."

Arthur closed his lips over the insults bubbling in his chest. Obviously, his Father was not going to be reasoned with; however, if Uther thought that he could ignore Arthur and treat him like a child, he was going to find out how little that would work. Arthur turned and paced back to his room, initially ignoring the guards. Outside his chambers he turned on them and snapped his orders. "Send Sirs Lancelot and Gwaine to me immediately."

"Sire," said the right hand guard cautiously. "The King has ordered you to your chambers."

"I obey my King," snapped Arthur. "Did you hear him say anything about refusing me visitors?"

"No, Sire," confirmed the guard, swallowing hard. "If you will enter, Highness, I will be pleased to fetch Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot to you."

Arthur walked into his chambers and looked for something to kick. He settled for knocking over a chair. He thought about taking one of his swords in hand and doing some footwork exercises, but decided having a blade in his hands at the moment would more likely lead to trouble than calm.

A soft knock interrupted his raging thoughts and Arthur flung open the door to find Gaius standing outside with a small bottle in his hand. "In!" Arthur ordered sharply. Gaius stepped into the room just far enough to allow Arthur to close the door. Arthur noted that two guards stood outside, but neither was the man that Arthur had sent for his knights.

"Your father thought that a sleeping draught might help ease your mind," said Gaius, declining to look at Arthur.

"How thoughtful," snarled Arthur. "What did you tell him, Gaius? And for God's sake why?"

Gaius' shoulders slumped painfully. "That is between me and my King, Arthur."

Arthur pressed him savagely, "I never thought I'd see you denounce Merlin."

"That was not my intention, Arthur." Gaius swallowed. "I've made your father's draught a bit stronger tonight. Perhaps if he gets a good night's sleep…"

"He'll be as unreasonable and insufferable as if he'd tossed and turned," Arthur finished for him.

"Things sometimes look different in the light of day, Arthur."

A strong knock sounded and Arthur opened the door to admit Gwaine and Lancelot, neither wearing their chain mail, but each with a sword at his side. "Out, Gaius," commanded Arthur.

Gaius looked up at the two knights entering the room. "Whatever you're planning, Arthur…"

"Is none of your business, Gaius," said Arthur, holding the door for him.

Gaius held out the glass bottle and Arthur took it, just to get Gaius out of the room. Arthur slammed the door after him and smashed the bottle on the hearth.

"What was that about?" asked Gwaine, with far more caution than Gwaine usually displayed.

Arthur faced them, looking murderous. "Father's arrested Merlin for sorcery, except that he doesn't really think Merlin's a sorcerer, he's just realized that one of the secrets rattling around in that otherwise empty head is his and he doesn't want me to know it."

The two knights glanced at each other. "What do you want us to do?" asked Lancelot, stepping forward. Gwaine matched him.

Arthur took a breath. "Go get Merlin out of the dungeon, before he gets out himself, he's done it before. Tell him he is in my custody and he's not to wander. Just find a place to hide him and at least one of you stay with him." Arthur ran his hand through his hair distractedly. "I have to find some way to work this out with my Father."

"Where do you want us to hide him?" asked Gwaine.

"I don't know," said Arthur irritably. "Ask Merlin."

"Interesting tactic letting the prisoner choose his place of confinement," said Gwaine with a trace of his usual humor.

Distress showed in Arthur's eyes. "Once Father realizes Merlin's gone, he will have knights searching for him. By asking you to conceal him, I am asking you to disobey the King."

"We understand that," Lancelot assured him. "The men guarding Merlin shouldn't be more than arms men, so we can order them to let us take over their watch. With luck, Uther won't realize he's gone before morning at the least."

"Go then," said Arthur, grasping each of them by the arm as they exited. Arthur hoped that Uther had taken his sleeping draught already and that it was as strong as Gaius had said.

Arthur prowled the circle of knights inside his dream, trying to pass enough time before he attempted to call Merlin again. He'd tried three times so far, but Merlin had neither woken, nor hidden from him, which he believed should mean that his servant simply wasn't asleep yet.

Arthur stopped in front of the red-headed knight. The light seemed to have dimmed in his pillar just a little more and the man was clearer than ever. Slightly taller and heavier than Arthur, but bearded, the knight slumbered on while Arthur tried to memorize his features. Arthur wondered if he should try to talk to this knight as he had two of the others. Arthur turned away with a shudder, determined not to do anything that might tighten the effects of the spell around any of his knights.

Arthur called again for Merlin, and looked up at the sound of a footfall. Merlin had stepped from his pillar of light, a merry smile tugging at his lips. "Thank God," breathed Arthur. "I was afraid that you might have been recaptured since I went to sleep."

Merlin shook his head. "No one is going to search the dragon's cave without specific orders, and if they did they still wouldn't find us."

"Gwaine said that's where you were. I've informed Elyan, Percival, and Leon what I'm up to. I wasn't sure about Leon, but he's given his word to help me keep you safe. They were fairly appalled when they heard why Father really wants you dead." Arthur paused to give Merlin a severe look. "Tell me, Merlin, tell me what you've been holding back. What is it that Father doesn't want me to know about this spell?"

Merlin fell back a step, into the walls of his pillar where he knew Arthur couldn't reach him. "No, Arthur. Not here."

"Tell me!" commanded Arthur.

"Not here!" insisted Merlin. "You saw what happened when I struggled with the spell. The spell is in you. What do you think might happen if you got angry about it, really and truly angry within the spell? It could be worse than when I did it, Arthur, a lot worse."

"I need to know," persisted Arthur.

Merlin gulped a breath and offered, "I will meet you anywhere you choose and answer any question ask."

Arthur balled his fists. "Merlin, I'm not sure I can settle this with my Father without knowing what it's about in the first place."

"Then tell me where to go and I will be there," pleaded the servant.

"And how do I get out of my room?" snarled Arthur.

"Then I'll come to your room," said Merlin desperately.

That cooled Arthur somewhat. "No, you shouldn't come here. Father would murder you personally to keep you quiet."

Merlin looked at his feet, his hands playing with the sides of his woolen cloak. "I can't tell you in here, Arthur. I truly do not dare."

Arthur's mouth quirked in frustration. "Do you promise to tell me when we're together again?"

"You have my word, Arthur," said Merlin, reluctantly looking up as though a naughty child.

Merlin's expression unexpectedly amused Arthur and he said wryly, "I figured out what you're doing when you hide in your cloak."

"What?" asked Merlin, bemused by the sudden change of topic.

"Pulling the covers over your head," Arthur chuckled and Merlin joined him.

Arthur woke to the sound of the warning bell and leapt out of bed before he'd woken enough to remember that he was expecting it. Yanking open the door, he demanded the reason for the warning bell from the guards still posted there.

"The prisoner, Merlin, has escaped, my Lord," one of the guards answered at once.

"Have the alarm canceled," ordered Arthur. "Then go to the King and inform him that the prisoner is in my custody and I'm not giving him back." Arthur shut the door on the guards' shocked faces. Arthur looked down at himself and decided that he could meet his Father's anger with more dignity dressed in something more than his pajama pants. He barely had time to attire himself decently and take up a position by the window behind his desk when the King slammed into the room.

"What do you think you're playing at?" roared Uther, storming up to his son.

Arthur, who'd expected this exact reaction from his Father, didn't even flinch as the door banged against the wall. Calmly, he replied, "I'm not playing at anything, Father. I am telling you, you can't have Merlin." Arthur glanced at the armsman who had followed his Father as far as the doorway. A gesture of his chin caused the man to shut the door with himself on the outside.

"By rights, you should take his place in the flames," seethed Uther. "You betray me, you seek to usurp me."

Arthur kept his voice firm and reasonable in the face of his Father's accusations. "Father, if I had wanted your throne I could have had it. Several members of the council were quite clear on the subject."

"Which members?" demanded Uther.

"I reprimanded them at the time, Father," Arthur assured him. "There's no need for further punishment."

Uther fumed. "That is for me to decide."

"You lost their respect, Father," said Arthur, becoming exasperated. You will have to reearn it and you will not accomplish that by holding executions on a whim."

"I will execute anyone I believe to be a danger to my realm."

Incredulity flowed across Arthur's face. "Merlin, really?"

Uther drew himself up with the certainty born of years of being the last word. "The boy has knowledge of magic and clearly he has an undue influence over you. That is enough for conviction as a sorcerer."

Arthur snorted in disbelief. "Gaius admits that he taught Merlin that knowledge. Does that make him a sorcerer?"

Uther dismissed the question with a gesture of his hand. "Gaius' knowledge has been useful to the kingdom. I pardoned him for sorcery long ago, but I did not give him permission to train an apprentice."

"If Merlin is Gaius' apprentice then either they are both sorcerers or they are both not," insisted Arthur.

Uther's voice took on a dangerous tone, "What do you accuse me of?"

"Of being very wise, Father," said Arthur placatingly, "It would be very difficult to fight a war against sorcery without any knowledge of it. Gaius was only looking to the future. He's an old man. He may last through your reign but he will surely die early in mine. And you have approved. Every time Camelot has a magical crisis what do you ask of me? That I do without my servant so that he can help Gaius find solutions to the problems we face. I know Merlin is thick, but he'd have to be an imbecile not to have soaked up some of that knowledge."

Uther disregarded his son's arguments with a neglectful wave of his hand. "All right then, if it will satisfy you, Gaius can join Merlin in the fire."

"It doesn't satisfy me at all, Father," snapped Arthur, loosing all semblance of patience. "I will not interfere between you and your sorcerer, but Merlin is mine! You can't have him. And if you burn your sorcerer in the mistaken belief that you can change my mind, then the next time Camelot faces a magical crisis you'll be asking my sorcerer for advice. Unfortunately, he's an apprentice and a little dotty to boot, but he'll be all you'll have left!"

"Never!" cried Uther.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur tried again to calm the situation. "Father, Merlin and Gaius have both proven their loyalty over and over again. Would you execute Camelot's defenders because you fear they will turn on you? I cannot imagine that any man will fight for us under those circumstances, certainly they will not fight well if they have to fear for their lives from those they serve. Camelot was built on loyalty. Will you tear it down?"

Uther stared at his son. "You are under a spell. That is the only possible explanation for your behavior." And he quit the room.