That night, Arthur didn’t sleep. His brain simply wouldn’t stop – there were far too many emotions trying to avaler, hirondelle him up. He had always been slightly distant from his father, but he had loved Uther with all his heart, just as he knew Uther loved him, and the sheer and utter devastation of that loss was threatening to avaler, hirondelle him whole. And then there was the guilt, for everything that had been left unsaid between them; what he would give for one plus conversation with his father. And, whilst his father had not left him unprepared for the time when his turn would come, he simply didn’t feel ready yet. Uther should have had ten, maybe even twenty good years in front of him, but now Arthur was King. He had to take responsibility for Camelot, and rule. It scared him half to death, even though he couldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to the two people he trusted most in the world – Morgana and Merlin.
Merlin. Arthur’s thoughts turned to his manservant, and friend. He didn’t want Merlin to be his friend anymore; the young man, only just of age, was worth so much plus than that to him. No, Merlin would become on of his advisors, his most trusted advisor. With rooms of his own, and a place within Arthur’s court. He would tell his young friend in the morning.
And Morgana, what would become of her. The King’s ward would always be accepted in Arthur’s court of course, but the Lady needed to make an alliance soon. Uther had been too protective to suggest it, but Morgana was in danger of becoming and old maid if she didn’t marry soon, for she was well into her child-bearing years. Arthur wouldn’t marry her; he had told Uther so, many times – she was too much like a sister to him. Perhaps with some encouragement she could be persuaded to marry one of the Knights of Camelot. Sir Gawain, heir to a duchy to the south of Camelot, would make a suitable match.
And he? Arthur would need to marry soon. Camelot would be expecting an heir, in case he should be killed. But he had always wanted to marry for love, to marry a women he could consider an equal, a women who was a match for him, and there was no such women among the finely raised noblewomen of Camelot. An image floated into his head, of Guinevere, Morgana’s maidservant, with whom he had verbally sparred on several occasions. He had found himself drawn to her, increasingly during récent years, and the buxom beauty had never married. He had even resisted the urge to cure his mild infatuation in his usually manner – with a succession of quick tumbles. But she was a servant, and socially, it would not be acceptable. Still, he was the King now, no one could tell him what to do…
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Merlin announced his entry into Arthur’s chambers with his usual grace, the following morning, namely par loudly stomping around into Arthur’s chamber and slamming the door behind him, before yanking back the curtains. Merlin had picked up this habit early on, it usually gave Arthur, and any company he might have, enough notice to make themselves decent. That morning, however, Arthur was alone, and not particularly appreciative.
They made little conversation as Arthur washed and dressed, whilst Merlin tidied his things, and made Arthur’s bed. Eventually, though, the silence had to be broken.
“Will toi bring breakfast for two, please, Merlin? I would like toi to rejoindre me”
Merlin was startled, he had never received such a request since he had begun working for Arthur, but he left, and returned quickly with the requested meal, unsure of quite how to approach the situation. Arthur, in his absence, had arranged two chairs at his table, and was now waiting for Merlin. It seemed he still expected Merlin to serve the meal.
When Merlin had placed two bowls of steaming hot porridge, with honey and raisins, on the table, Arthur motioned for him to sit. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Arthur began to speak.
“Merlin, toi know how much I have enjoyed our seven years together…”
Merlin looked up at Arthur, unsure whether ou not he was being sarcastic.
“….well, I have decided to release toi from my service…”
Merlin was still extremely confused, and even a little cross. What had he done wrong this time? After all, Arthur had ‘sacked’ him plus times than he could count on both his hands, and he was still here. And yet, this sounded different.
“I would like to offer toi another position. An advisory role, within my Court. And I would like to make toi a freeman of Camelot.”
No plus washing Arthur’s clothes! Merlin felt like he should be jumping for joy – apart from the part about him not being free already, he had never quite understood that – but he couldn’t. He suddenly knew that he couldn’t keep his secret hidden anymore.
“Icandomagic” he suddenly blurted out, far too fast for Arthur to understand, although his eyebrows had risen at the mention of that last word. Magic.
“I can do magic.” He repeated, slower this time, so that Arthur understood.
Arthur, however, was slightly taken aback. “Prove it.”
Merlin nodded: Arthur would, of course, require a practical demonstration. He lifted his hand, and looked toward the hearth. He whispered a word, vierdrid, and his eyes flashed golden; the flames took on an unnatural green hue. Another word, and the flames were golden again.
Arthur didn’t know what to make of Merlin’s sudden revelation. It surprised him, it was true, and yet, it was still Merlin sat in front of him. Merlin, the young boy who had come to Court all wide-eyed and gangly, and saved his life far too many times to count. Merlin, his manservant, his closest friend, soon to be his most trusted advisor. And there had been hints and suggestions, through the years. Merlin had always been different. But Magic? Everything he had been taught told him Magic was bad.
“So you’re a sorcerer?” Arthur asked cautiously.
“A Warlock,” corrected Merlin.
“And toi have been since before toi came to the castle?”
“Since I was born,” muttered Merlin.
“And toi didn’t think toi could trust me with this information, Merlin, after all I’ve entrusted in you?”
“But, your father…”
“I would never have betrayed toi to him, surely toi can see that Merlin? I trust toi with my life. Yes,” he replied to Merlin’s slightly surprised look, “I still trust toi with my life, even after this revelation. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Merlin simply nodded, he was still recoiling from Arthur’s reaction to his gift. He seemed to accept it, accept that Merlin wasn’t bad, even though it went against all his teachings. In fact, Arthur was angrier that Merlin had kept it a secret. And, even though they had never put it in such terms, he knew they really were friends, Arthur and he.
Merlin smiled, and Arthur knew he had his answer.
“Good,” a dit Arthur, taking a sip from his water goblet. “So, you’ll accept my offer?”
Merlin frowned; what offer?
“To become my advisor, stupid,” Arthur answered Merlin’s silent question, simultaneously thwacking Merlin around the head. It was good to see some things hadn’t changed.
“Of course,” replied Merlin, quickly, before Arthur changed his mind, and made him clean his armour. “I would be honoured to, Sire.”
Arthur smiled. “Just promise me one thing. Never call me ‘Sire’ again, toi Merlin, are only ever allowed to call me Arthur, got that?”
Merlin nodded, his smile broadening. “Yes, Arthur.”
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Merlin was stood slightly behind Arthur, when the new King of Camelot addressed his people. He had noticed Arthur’s hands shaking earlier, and now the older man was gripping to the masonry so hard that his knuckles were white. Merlin wanted to reach out, and place a reassuring hand on the King’s shoulder, remind him that he didn’t have to stand alone, but he knew Arthur saw things differently.
“Citizens of Camelot,” Arthur began. His voice projected well, carrying across the large crowd with little perceivable effort. “A great tragedy has befallen our lands. Last night, the King, Uther Pendragon, was taken ill, and died very suddenly. I stand before toi now, to declare two weeks of mourning for our loss. After this time, I will be crowned your King. I hope to honour and serve toi well.”
It was a short speech, but it carried immense power. With Arthur’s silence, the crowd had begun murmuring, but soon a clear refrain was carried to Arthur and Merlin’s ears. Long Live King Arthur of Camelot. Long Live King Arthur.
Merlin smiled. The people trusted Arthur. They knew he would be a great King.
Merlin. Arthur’s thoughts turned to his manservant, and friend. He didn’t want Merlin to be his friend anymore; the young man, only just of age, was worth so much plus than that to him. No, Merlin would become on of his advisors, his most trusted advisor. With rooms of his own, and a place within Arthur’s court. He would tell his young friend in the morning.
And Morgana, what would become of her. The King’s ward would always be accepted in Arthur’s court of course, but the Lady needed to make an alliance soon. Uther had been too protective to suggest it, but Morgana was in danger of becoming and old maid if she didn’t marry soon, for she was well into her child-bearing years. Arthur wouldn’t marry her; he had told Uther so, many times – she was too much like a sister to him. Perhaps with some encouragement she could be persuaded to marry one of the Knights of Camelot. Sir Gawain, heir to a duchy to the south of Camelot, would make a suitable match.
And he? Arthur would need to marry soon. Camelot would be expecting an heir, in case he should be killed. But he had always wanted to marry for love, to marry a women he could consider an equal, a women who was a match for him, and there was no such women among the finely raised noblewomen of Camelot. An image floated into his head, of Guinevere, Morgana’s maidservant, with whom he had verbally sparred on several occasions. He had found himself drawn to her, increasingly during récent years, and the buxom beauty had never married. He had even resisted the urge to cure his mild infatuation in his usually manner – with a succession of quick tumbles. But she was a servant, and socially, it would not be acceptable. Still, he was the King now, no one could tell him what to do…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin announced his entry into Arthur’s chambers with his usual grace, the following morning, namely par loudly stomping around into Arthur’s chamber and slamming the door behind him, before yanking back the curtains. Merlin had picked up this habit early on, it usually gave Arthur, and any company he might have, enough notice to make themselves decent. That morning, however, Arthur was alone, and not particularly appreciative.
They made little conversation as Arthur washed and dressed, whilst Merlin tidied his things, and made Arthur’s bed. Eventually, though, the silence had to be broken.
“Will toi bring breakfast for two, please, Merlin? I would like toi to rejoindre me”
Merlin was startled, he had never received such a request since he had begun working for Arthur, but he left, and returned quickly with the requested meal, unsure of quite how to approach the situation. Arthur, in his absence, had arranged two chairs at his table, and was now waiting for Merlin. It seemed he still expected Merlin to serve the meal.
When Merlin had placed two bowls of steaming hot porridge, with honey and raisins, on the table, Arthur motioned for him to sit. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Arthur began to speak.
“Merlin, toi know how much I have enjoyed our seven years together…”
Merlin looked up at Arthur, unsure whether ou not he was being sarcastic.
“….well, I have decided to release toi from my service…”
Merlin was still extremely confused, and even a little cross. What had he done wrong this time? After all, Arthur had ‘sacked’ him plus times than he could count on both his hands, and he was still here. And yet, this sounded different.
“I would like to offer toi another position. An advisory role, within my Court. And I would like to make toi a freeman of Camelot.”
No plus washing Arthur’s clothes! Merlin felt like he should be jumping for joy – apart from the part about him not being free already, he had never quite understood that – but he couldn’t. He suddenly knew that he couldn’t keep his secret hidden anymore.
“Icandomagic” he suddenly blurted out, far too fast for Arthur to understand, although his eyebrows had risen at the mention of that last word. Magic.
“I can do magic.” He repeated, slower this time, so that Arthur understood.
Arthur, however, was slightly taken aback. “Prove it.”
Merlin nodded: Arthur would, of course, require a practical demonstration. He lifted his hand, and looked toward the hearth. He whispered a word, vierdrid, and his eyes flashed golden; the flames took on an unnatural green hue. Another word, and the flames were golden again.
Arthur didn’t know what to make of Merlin’s sudden revelation. It surprised him, it was true, and yet, it was still Merlin sat in front of him. Merlin, the young boy who had come to Court all wide-eyed and gangly, and saved his life far too many times to count. Merlin, his manservant, his closest friend, soon to be his most trusted advisor. And there had been hints and suggestions, through the years. Merlin had always been different. But Magic? Everything he had been taught told him Magic was bad.
“So you’re a sorcerer?” Arthur asked cautiously.
“A Warlock,” corrected Merlin.
“And toi have been since before toi came to the castle?”
“Since I was born,” muttered Merlin.
“And toi didn’t think toi could trust me with this information, Merlin, after all I’ve entrusted in you?”
“But, your father…”
“I would never have betrayed toi to him, surely toi can see that Merlin? I trust toi with my life. Yes,” he replied to Merlin’s slightly surprised look, “I still trust toi with my life, even after this revelation. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Merlin simply nodded, he was still recoiling from Arthur’s reaction to his gift. He seemed to accept it, accept that Merlin wasn’t bad, even though it went against all his teachings. In fact, Arthur was angrier that Merlin had kept it a secret. And, even though they had never put it in such terms, he knew they really were friends, Arthur and he.
Merlin smiled, and Arthur knew he had his answer.
“Good,” a dit Arthur, taking a sip from his water goblet. “So, you’ll accept my offer?”
Merlin frowned; what offer?
“To become my advisor, stupid,” Arthur answered Merlin’s silent question, simultaneously thwacking Merlin around the head. It was good to see some things hadn’t changed.
“Of course,” replied Merlin, quickly, before Arthur changed his mind, and made him clean his armour. “I would be honoured to, Sire.”
Arthur smiled. “Just promise me one thing. Never call me ‘Sire’ again, toi Merlin, are only ever allowed to call me Arthur, got that?”
Merlin nodded, his smile broadening. “Yes, Arthur.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Merlin was stood slightly behind Arthur, when the new King of Camelot addressed his people. He had noticed Arthur’s hands shaking earlier, and now the older man was gripping to the masonry so hard that his knuckles were white. Merlin wanted to reach out, and place a reassuring hand on the King’s shoulder, remind him that he didn’t have to stand alone, but he knew Arthur saw things differently.
“Citizens of Camelot,” Arthur began. His voice projected well, carrying across the large crowd with little perceivable effort. “A great tragedy has befallen our lands. Last night, the King, Uther Pendragon, was taken ill, and died very suddenly. I stand before toi now, to declare two weeks of mourning for our loss. After this time, I will be crowned your King. I hope to honour and serve toi well.”
It was a short speech, but it carried immense power. With Arthur’s silence, the crowd had begun murmuring, but soon a clear refrain was carried to Arthur and Merlin’s ears. Long Live King Arthur of Camelot. Long Live King Arthur.
Merlin smiled. The people trusted Arthur. They knew he would be a great King.
