Magic, Marriage and Mayhem, Part 10
Double figures, yay!
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint and lots of anachronistic!pseudo-science. Also, this is pretty defiantly AU now.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ More boring talks, but hopefully once this part is done things can start to speed up a little. They're dragging at the moment - all long conversations and Themes To Be Revisited - but once they've been introduced they can be ignored for the foreseeable future and we can go back to the pregnancy stuff at long last. ^_^
All feedback goes to a warm and loving home.
**
Previous Parts:
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine
**
“Prendergast is strict about courtesy.” Arthur agreed. “Which is why I think he would be one of the best choices for us.”
“Is he staying for dinner?” Merlin asked carefully. “Because, I invited both Morgana and Gwen to eat with us.”
Arthur paused, momentarily taken aback. “And Guinevere agreed?”
“She took some persuading.” Merlin said quietly. “But... I can’t afford to alienate the servants, and I know half of them resent this whole – thing. Gwen’s been a servant here far longer than I have, she’ll know how best to. Deal with that.”
“No, of course.” Arthur agreed quickly. “I’m just – surprised that she agreed to it with me here.”
“Well, if Lord Prendergast is going to be here as well, I doubt-”
“I didn’t ask him to dine with us.” Arthur told him. “She needn’t worry.”
“Well. Good then.” Merlin said rather awkwardly. “I. Good.”
“Yes, well.” Arthur glanced away, evidently searching for a neutral topic to land on. “Now, Prendergast is our vassal, but he’s also a powerful Lord in his own right. You have to be careful to strike the right balance around him...”
**
By the time Lord Prendergast arrived an hour later, and a good two hours before Morgana and Gwen were expected, Arthur had briefed Merlin thoroughly in the man’s political views, his personal habits, and how to behave in front of him.
“Prendergast is a good man,” he said as Merlin yanked on a piece of snarled thread, “but he could make things very uncomfortable for the crown if he should choose to – we have to make sure he’s on our side. But being servile will only make him think we’re weak.”
“Arthur, have you honestly ever known me be servile?” Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he folded up the poorly-mended breeches.
Arthur sighed. “No, more’s the pity.”
“Nonsense.” Merlin disagreed, but Arthur just grinned.
“Think, if you’d acted the way a proper servant should, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“You’ve tumbled plenty of servants.” Merlin disagreed.
“I was careful not to get them into trouble!” Arthur objected. “And certainly none I’d care to help out of it this way.”
“Through marriage?”
Arthur looked uncomfortable. “If it weren’t you, Merlin...” he said awkwardly, “there are – other methods for dealing with – with...”
“With bastards.” Merlin looked up, and Arthur was glad to see no censure in his eyes. “Arthur, I’ve been in Camelot for a long time now, do you honestly think I didn’t know that? Plenty of the knights are less discrete than you.”
“I have no bastards.” Arthur said firmly, and Merlin grinned.
“I know. If you had, I’d probably have ended up dealing with them, anyway.” He pointed out, and Arthur managed a smile in return. It was going to be a long time before he got used to Merlin and worked out what things he was going to get upset about and what he would let go.
For all that, he was looking forward to working them out.
Instead of saying any of that and risking Merlin’s laughter, he simply cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, Prendergast,” Merlin grinned and moved on to the next piece of clothing which needed his inept attention, “be respectful, but not familiar. My father is a first generation King, he won the crown by force; we can’t afford to offend any of the nobles who helped him to win it. Prendergast is high on that list, but he’s better than most. He lived through a long civil war and from what I can tell he’s more interested in making sure that it never returns than scoring small goals at the crown’s expense. Be honest with him and he should return the favour.”
Merlin kept this in mind as he greeted the Lord on his arrival, with a bow and a polite smile. “My Lord.”
Prendergast was at a disadvantage here, since Merlin had no assigned title; but Merlin could tell from the look on Arthur’s face that this was a test of the man’s loyalties and expectations. To his credit – and Arthur’s evident pleasure – Prendergast never blinked.
“My Prince.” He bowed back then turned to Arthur and bowed again.
Arthur looked pleased, so Merlin hid his shock as well as he could. He never been referred to that way, and to have the knowledge thrown at him so irrevocably was a jolt.
In his shock, he half-tuned out what Arthur was saying to Lord Prendergast as he offered him a chair, pleasantries no doubt. He only tuned back in when he heard his name mentioned.
“Merlin and I are both glad to have you here,” Arthur said, his voice back to its usual confident, regal tone, “since Merlin will need as many friends at court as he can get when he is formally introduced.”
Merlin looked up with as much of a smile as he could muster. “Yes.” He agreed quickly. “It’s, er... all a bit of a mystery to me at the moment.”
Prendergast sat back in his chair with a smile. “I remember my sons saying the same thing when they arrived at Camelot for the first time. I am at my Princes disposal.” He said kindly. “What would you most like to know?”
Merlin carefully didn’t look at Arthur. “Honestly, my Lord,” he said quietly, “I’d like to know what your views are on magic.”
Prendergast sat forward in his chair, giving Merlin a sharp look. “I expected a quiet conversation to get to know the Prince’s consort, not a political minefield,” he said, sounding almost amused. “As for my views... I’m sure Prince Arthur would prefer me to give my honest opinion rather than hide in pretty rhetoric?” He glanced at Arthur who met his gaze steadily before forcing a smile.
“As you can see, my Lord,” Arthur gestured at Merlin, careful to keep any censure off his face, “direct speaking is something I like to encourage.”
“Well then,” Prendergast shrugged. “I’ve noticed, even in my own sons, a tendency in your generation to see magic as some kind of – of shapeless evil, since that’s the way this country has been since the Queen died. For myself, however...” he sat back again, an almost weary look on his face, “a sorcerer saved my sister’s life when she had her first child and another killed my youngest brother during the civil war.” He sighed expansively. “I’m afraid I am too old to believe that all evil springs from one source.”
“And the ban on magic?” Merlin pressed.
Lord Prendergast watched him for a moment before speaking. “May I ask the reason for all these questions, your Highness?”
Merlin flushed a bright red at the title but said politely, “I wasn’t born in Camelot, my Lord, I was born in Ghent. Magic’s regulated there but not outlawed; my village was near enough to the border with Camelot that we picked up the language and the superstitions, but this complete ban is – strange, for me. And I’m sure you’ve heard that our current, er... circumstances are the result of magic, however ill-intentioned.” He glanced at Arthur, who raised an eyebrow at him. “I would value the opinion of one of the King’s Council,” he finished, politely enough.
Prendergast’s expression turned thoughtful. “As far as advice goes, your Highness, the best I
can give you is to keep any further, ah, confusion strictly private. The King won’t welcome any speculation about this law and frankly your position is hardly secure.” He flicked a glance at Arthur then looked back at Merlin. “But for myself... it’s my experience that if you bar a door, things come in at the window. Magic is difficult to ban, as you can see,” he gestured at Merlin, “and it seems that Ghent may have the right of it, regulating it rather than banning it. But if Prince Arthur will forgive me, I don’t think logic was much in the King’s thoughts when he imposed the ban.”
“My mother’s death was a great blow to him.” Arthur agreed carefully.
Prendergast bowed a little in his chair. “Just so.” He looked back at Merlin. “Have I satisfied your curiosity, your Highness?”
Merlin nodded, his expression a little absent. “Should Arthur decide to lift that ban,” both nobles shifted in their seats, “what would you do?”
“These are all hypothetical questions, I assume?” Prendergast asked slowly.
Merlin met his eyes and smiled suddenly. “Of course,” he said easily, “I’m getting to know you as much as you’re getting to know me. I wanted to know what sort of person you are.”
“You have an ingenious method.” Prendergast smiled back. “Somewhat dangerous, but interesting.”
“Debate is dangerous?” Merlin asked.
“Debates on magic when Uther Pendragon is your King – saving your Highness’ presence,” he nodded at Arthur, who shrugged, “that is dangerous. But you’re safe enough with me.”
“If I’m making you uncomfortable, please don’t think you have to answer,” Merlin said politely, bringing the conversation back on course with a skill Arthur hadn’t known he had. It was more than likely that it was unintentional, but it was worth remembering.
Prendergast just shook his head. “I’ll do my best. Forgive me saying so, but... neither of you really understand what civil war is like.” Arthur inclined his head; Merlin sat motionless. “I have lived through half a decade of civil war and a decade of uneasy alliance after uneasy alliance before that. I would do a great deal to make sure that we never revisit such times; that my children never live through such a war. I would support the King in all but the most unworthy cause.”
“I think I understand.” Merlin nodded slowly. “You support Uther in this to avoid having to break with him; and would support Arthur in a reformation for the same reason?”
“Exactly, your Highness.”
“Most of those on the council support my father’s policy.” Arthur broke in abruptly. “Such a reformation would be impossible, surely?”
Prendergast looked between them. “I’m old, but I’m not stupid, my Lords. Why the sudden interest in the magic laws?”
Arthur looked briefly at Merlin the turned to Prendergast again. “You’ve been very honest with us, sir,” he said quietly, “and nothing you’ve said will leave this room. May I have the same assurance from you?”
Prendergast bowed. “Of course, my Lord.”
“Very good.” Arthur fell silent for a moment; Merlin, recognising that Arthur wanted to field this question and unsure what answer he could give without incriminating himself, kept quiet. “Until recently, I thought exactly what I had been taught to think of magic,” Arthur said eventually. “I believed it was dangerous and evil, and then this happened.” He didn’t need to so much as glance at Merlin for his listeners to know what he was talking about. “Even though it wasn’t intended to be good, I can see that magic can do – wonderful things as well as awful ones.” He shook his head, with it shaking off any of his former introspection. “By forcing it out, we sow bitterness.” He said, his voice stronger now. “Welcoming it back in might save us a little of the back-lash from that.” A pause. “I didn’t live through it,” he said haltingly, “but I would hate to see another civil war in Camelot. And one where all the magic is on one side...”
They all winced.
“Peasants live hard lives,” Merlin spoke up when it became obvious no one else was going to. “In my village, we were some of the luckier ones: every year a good harvest, fewer harsh winters than most, less children dying. But we all know that luck runs out,” and if some of that luck had been due to Merlin’s presence, only Arthur need infer it, “and hope does too, after a while. Magic doesn’t. If it was allowed, it could keep a lot of people from dying.”
Prendergast’s expression was almost pitying. “Teaching people to expect miracles isn’t good for them-”
“Letting them live without hope is worse! No food or medicine or hope, it’s a harder life than you’d think!” Merlin said firmly, sounding almost sarcastic before he shook his head, subsiding a little. “Forgive me.” He said after a moment’s silence. “What I mean to say is – magic can’t make miracles, my Lord. A few people can, of course,” his eyes met Arthur’s for a brief second, “but most sorcerers aren’t miracle workers, and it’s only since magic has been outlawed that people expect them to be. What they can do is make childbirth easier,” Prendergast’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Arthur’s mouth tightened at that, “like it did for your sister, keep grain sheds secure, work charms against fire and bandits, keep water clean. Little things to you, maybe, but enormous if you’ve got very little to start with.”
Prendergast watched him in silence for a moment then nodded. “Of course, I understand your position.” A momentary pause. “Should things hypothetically come to that,” he met Merlin’s eyes, allowing amusement to show in his own, “I would say... take care with the other nobles in the council.” He nodded at Arthur. “They’ve made their names on Uther’s anti-magic policy. Be wary of them.”
“No reform ever pleases everyone.” Arthur said carefully.
“The trick lies in making sure it doesn’t offend too many.” Prendergast agreed. “If you were to follow this course, I would simply say...” he pursed his lips, evidently considering how to continue. “Many of these men’s sons are knights and under your influence, my Lord.” He said slowly. “Get to them quickly and draw them into your circle – sway them to your point of view. If they are convinced of your plan, you’ve won the battle for the future.”
“I don’t want this to become a battle with my father,” Arthur said. “There’s truth in what you say, of course, my Lord, but were I to attempt this, I wouldn’t want my father to have to-” he broke off. “Put like that it sounds like cowardice.” He sighed. “This policy is – so dear to my father, if I don’t agree with it, if he knew I was considering repealing this law, it would – I can’t say what would happen. It – it would break his heart again. Magic killed my mother, he would see this as it stealing his son.”
Prendergast gave him a pitying look. “An unenviable position, my Lord.”
“Just so.” He sighed, shaking his head. “In any case. We could always deal with anyone who disagreed in the time honoured way.”
“Arthur, executions aren’t the way forward...” Merlin began, but Arthur just shook his head.
“No, Merlin,” the ‘you idiot’ couldn’t be said in front of Prendergast but Merlin heard it anyway, “we’d go on progress.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “And what would that do?” he asked.
“We’d stay with the nobles most likely to cause problems.” Arthur explained. “It’d be a sign of favour, staying with such loyal members of the council – the king trusts Lord Such-and-Such so much he brought his consort and children with him to stay.” Merlin flushed, but Arthur warned him off whatever facetious comment he had planned with a look and a glance towards Prendergast. “It’s also a way for us to make them pay through the nose for the privilege. My father made it illegal for the nobles to keep more than fifty armed men on their lands for the protection of their castle. If they can prove they need more, then their peasants can be mobilised, or mercenaries brought in; but if they were really angry, they wouldn’t stand by one of the king’s laws. By making them pay for us to stay with them, we ensure that they haven’t got the money to raise an army against us when we push through reforms they might – disapprove of.”
Prendergast’s smile was a little bitter, and Merlin realised how much like betrayal this must seem to him. “A well-documented way to keep your nobles loyal. And if you have their sons’ loyalties any rumours they might try to spread about your kingship would find it – difficult to take root.”
Betrayal and counselling them to steal away the loyalties of men’s sons; a double blow for a father. Merlin shook his head. “What a lovely hypothetical solution.” He said brightly, and the heavy, sombre atmosphere lightened a little. “No, less hypothetically, Lord Prendergast, what do you think of the name ‘Bran’?”
**
The rest of the meeting passed along much safer lines – court protocol, whose help to solicit for Merlin and who to avoid, safer topics by far – and Prendergast left smiling, his conclusions on Merlin evidently favourable. Arthur was markedly less pleased, turning to Merlin with a frown the moment the door shut behind their guest.
“What in the Gods’ names were you thinking, bringing something like that up in front of a stranger?” he demanded, keeping his voice low. “What if he’d gone straight to my father and said ‘by the way, your majesty, your son’s unnatural lover is far too interested in magic’? What then, Merlin?!” His voice rose. “Do you honestly think there is anything I could do to protect you if my father decided to have you killed?”
“Well, forgive me for thinking you weren’t idiot enough to bring someone like that to a private discussion!” Merlin returned hotly, defensive.
Arthur dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, but you have to learn, Merlin, you can’t tell what people’s views on magic are in this court. I respect Prendergast, but for all I knew, he could have been as rabidly anti-magic as my father.”
“If that had been the case, surely he wouldn’t have stood being around me – not with this thing on the way.” Merlin pointed out tiredly, all his fight gone. “Look, if he had... reacted badly, I can think of half a dozen ways to make sure he never remembered the conversation, all of them harmless and permanent. This protection kick you’re on is very sweet and very unnecessary.”
“You just have to be careful, in court.” Arthur explained, equally tired. “You can’t trust everyone you meet, they’ll devour you.”
The weariness in Merlin’s eyes softened minutely. “You’re not listening to me,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry. “I don’t trust everyone – I trusted you when you said he was a good man. I just wanted to see how far I could trust him.”
“Fine.” Arthur sighed. “Next time, choose a less – volatile method, though, alright?”
Merlin just nodded, almost dismissively. “We are going to have to repeal your father’s laws on magic, though, you know that, right? Gaius had a point – things are going to be difficult, even more difficult, if this child has... my kind of problem.”
“We’ll hide it.” Arthur said, knowing that he sounded rather dismissive himself; if Merlin could be easy over Arthur’s concerns, Arthur could make light of Merlin’s for the time being.
Not a sensible course, it seemed.
“Talk to my mother about that.” Merlin said very dryly. “She had enough fun hiding my magic from a small border village in a country where magic wasn’t technically illegal. Imagine trying that with a tiny prince or princess in this court.” Arthur winced. “Exactly. So. You heard Prendergast – we have to start laying the groundwork now.”
“What were you thinking of doing?” Arthur asked. Much though he might have liked Merlin to be careful to the point of indolence until the baby arrived, he knew better than to force the issue.
Merlin, though, surprised him again. “Nothing, until his royal highness here makes an appearance.” He said rather moodily. “Or at least, not until I’ve sorted everything out. For the moment, I’ve got enough to worry about.” He glanced at Arthur. “You could start though, y’know. With the knights.”
“That’s right, shift the responsibility.” Arthur grinned, and Merlin laughed.
“Playing to my talents.” He grinned. “Look, we’ve got plenty of time to work out what to do. We don’t even know whether it’s going to be a girl or a boy yet, let’s not worry about it having my kind of problem just now.”
Arthur shrugged. “If he does, we’ll just say it was because he was created by a spell, and that it can be controlled. I’m sure you can work something out.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Merlin shook his head, unwilling to be drawn into any kind of fight, and Arthur just laughed, relaxing into a comfortable silence at least.
It lasted maybe ten minutes before the knock came at the door signalling Morgana and Gwen’s arrival. Arthur heaved a sigh.
“I knew it couldn’t last long,” he muttered. “Enter!”
Gwen shut the door behind her mistress and herself, dipping into a low curtsey and refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. Morgana rested a hand on her elbow for a moment in reassurance before sweeping towards the table, a gesture curiously reminiscent of Arthur’s own habit of trying to reassure Merlin through touch.
“Arthur.” She greeted her brother with a smile which was almost mocking in its sweetness. “Merlin, how are you? How was Lord Prendergast?” Her smile lost its edge.
Arthur glanced at Merlin. “How do you know about Prendergast?”
“Please, Arthur, one day you’ll realise that I know everything.” She said glibly. “Did you shock him with your views on the peasantry, Merlin?”
“Actually, I diverted him by asking about magic.” Merlin grinned. “All part of my cunning plan.”
Morgana laughed, and even Gwen, obviously uncomfortable, cracked a smile. “I see. I bet that went down well.”
“If the guards come, I’m giving Merlin up for lost.” Arthur said, but there was a smile in his tone.
“Rubbish.” Merlin told him easily, missing the way Morgana glanced between them sharply before exchanging a quick look with Gwen. “Remember, you love me sometimes.”
Arthur’s return smile was a little awkward, but Merlin wasn’t looking at him and for once Morgana pretended not to notice; this evening was about more things than teasing Arthur. It didn’t mean it couldn’t be remembered for blackmail later.
Gwen finally cleared her throat and spoke up, flushing very red with nerves. “Should I – I’ll, um, fetch dinner, my lords – my lady-”
“Gwen,” Merlin shook his head instinctively, “don’t call me that, please.”
She shot a glance at Arthur, apparently without meaning to. He shook his head.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Guinevere.” He said quietly, looking rather uncomfortable himself.
Merlin and Morgana exchanged looks. “Gwen, send someone for food,” she said, moving in swiftly before an awkward silence could ensue. “Don’t worry about getting it yourself, you’re a guest here too, remember?” She sat in one of the chairs around Arthur’s table and smiled at her foster brother. “Now, Arthur. What was it you two wanted with Gwen and me?”
**
They’re apparently stuck in the longest day ever and it’s not over yet. O.o Still, nearly done with this day! Next up: a little moreexposition information and a not-so-surprising development on the way. ^_^
Did you like it? Do tell. *g*
Title: Magic, Marriage and Mayhem
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mpreg as a major plotpoint and lots of anachronistic!pseudo-science. Also, this is pretty defiantly AU now.
Summary: Uther warns Arthur about his dalliance with his servant, and reminds him that Camelot will need an heir. Well, it looks like that's not a problem any more...
AN: A big shout-out to this fic's family. ^_^ More boring talks, but hopefully once this part is done things can start to speed up a little. They're dragging at the moment - all long conversations and Themes To Be Revisited - but once they've been introduced they can be ignored for the foreseeable future and we can go back to the pregnancy stuff at long last. ^_^
All feedback goes to a warm and loving home.
**
Previous Parts:
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine
**
“Prendergast is strict about courtesy.” Arthur agreed. “Which is why I think he would be one of the best choices for us.”
“Is he staying for dinner?” Merlin asked carefully. “Because, I invited both Morgana and Gwen to eat with us.”
Arthur paused, momentarily taken aback. “And Guinevere agreed?”
“She took some persuading.” Merlin said quietly. “But... I can’t afford to alienate the servants, and I know half of them resent this whole – thing. Gwen’s been a servant here far longer than I have, she’ll know how best to. Deal with that.”
“No, of course.” Arthur agreed quickly. “I’m just – surprised that she agreed to it with me here.”
“Well, if Lord Prendergast is going to be here as well, I doubt-”
“I didn’t ask him to dine with us.” Arthur told him. “She needn’t worry.”
“Well. Good then.” Merlin said rather awkwardly. “I. Good.”
“Yes, well.” Arthur glanced away, evidently searching for a neutral topic to land on. “Now, Prendergast is our vassal, but he’s also a powerful Lord in his own right. You have to be careful to strike the right balance around him...”
**
By the time Lord Prendergast arrived an hour later, and a good two hours before Morgana and Gwen were expected, Arthur had briefed Merlin thoroughly in the man’s political views, his personal habits, and how to behave in front of him.
“Prendergast is a good man,” he said as Merlin yanked on a piece of snarled thread, “but he could make things very uncomfortable for the crown if he should choose to – we have to make sure he’s on our side. But being servile will only make him think we’re weak.”
“Arthur, have you honestly ever known me be servile?” Merlin asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he folded up the poorly-mended breeches.
Arthur sighed. “No, more’s the pity.”
“Nonsense.” Merlin disagreed, but Arthur just grinned.
“Think, if you’d acted the way a proper servant should, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“You’ve tumbled plenty of servants.” Merlin disagreed.
“I was careful not to get them into trouble!” Arthur objected. “And certainly none I’d care to help out of it this way.”
“Through marriage?”
Arthur looked uncomfortable. “If it weren’t you, Merlin...” he said awkwardly, “there are – other methods for dealing with – with...”
“With bastards.” Merlin looked up, and Arthur was glad to see no censure in his eyes. “Arthur, I’ve been in Camelot for a long time now, do you honestly think I didn’t know that? Plenty of the knights are less discrete than you.”
“I have no bastards.” Arthur said firmly, and Merlin grinned.
“I know. If you had, I’d probably have ended up dealing with them, anyway.” He pointed out, and Arthur managed a smile in return. It was going to be a long time before he got used to Merlin and worked out what things he was going to get upset about and what he would let go.
For all that, he was looking forward to working them out.
Instead of saying any of that and risking Merlin’s laughter, he simply cleared his throat. “Yes. Well, Prendergast,” Merlin grinned and moved on to the next piece of clothing which needed his inept attention, “be respectful, but not familiar. My father is a first generation King, he won the crown by force; we can’t afford to offend any of the nobles who helped him to win it. Prendergast is high on that list, but he’s better than most. He lived through a long civil war and from what I can tell he’s more interested in making sure that it never returns than scoring small goals at the crown’s expense. Be honest with him and he should return the favour.”
Merlin kept this in mind as he greeted the Lord on his arrival, with a bow and a polite smile. “My Lord.”
Prendergast was at a disadvantage here, since Merlin had no assigned title; but Merlin could tell from the look on Arthur’s face that this was a test of the man’s loyalties and expectations. To his credit – and Arthur’s evident pleasure – Prendergast never blinked.
“My Prince.” He bowed back then turned to Arthur and bowed again.
Arthur looked pleased, so Merlin hid his shock as well as he could. He never been referred to that way, and to have the knowledge thrown at him so irrevocably was a jolt.
In his shock, he half-tuned out what Arthur was saying to Lord Prendergast as he offered him a chair, pleasantries no doubt. He only tuned back in when he heard his name mentioned.
“Merlin and I are both glad to have you here,” Arthur said, his voice back to its usual confident, regal tone, “since Merlin will need as many friends at court as he can get when he is formally introduced.”
Merlin looked up with as much of a smile as he could muster. “Yes.” He agreed quickly. “It’s, er... all a bit of a mystery to me at the moment.”
Prendergast sat back in his chair with a smile. “I remember my sons saying the same thing when they arrived at Camelot for the first time. I am at my Princes disposal.” He said kindly. “What would you most like to know?”
Merlin carefully didn’t look at Arthur. “Honestly, my Lord,” he said quietly, “I’d like to know what your views are on magic.”
Prendergast sat forward in his chair, giving Merlin a sharp look. “I expected a quiet conversation to get to know the Prince’s consort, not a political minefield,” he said, sounding almost amused. “As for my views... I’m sure Prince Arthur would prefer me to give my honest opinion rather than hide in pretty rhetoric?” He glanced at Arthur who met his gaze steadily before forcing a smile.
“As you can see, my Lord,” Arthur gestured at Merlin, careful to keep any censure off his face, “direct speaking is something I like to encourage.”
“Well then,” Prendergast shrugged. “I’ve noticed, even in my own sons, a tendency in your generation to see magic as some kind of – of shapeless evil, since that’s the way this country has been since the Queen died. For myself, however...” he sat back again, an almost weary look on his face, “a sorcerer saved my sister’s life when she had her first child and another killed my youngest brother during the civil war.” He sighed expansively. “I’m afraid I am too old to believe that all evil springs from one source.”
“And the ban on magic?” Merlin pressed.
Lord Prendergast watched him for a moment before speaking. “May I ask the reason for all these questions, your Highness?”
Merlin flushed a bright red at the title but said politely, “I wasn’t born in Camelot, my Lord, I was born in Ghent. Magic’s regulated there but not outlawed; my village was near enough to the border with Camelot that we picked up the language and the superstitions, but this complete ban is – strange, for me. And I’m sure you’ve heard that our current, er... circumstances are the result of magic, however ill-intentioned.” He glanced at Arthur, who raised an eyebrow at him. “I would value the opinion of one of the King’s Council,” he finished, politely enough.
Prendergast’s expression turned thoughtful. “As far as advice goes, your Highness, the best I
can give you is to keep any further, ah, confusion strictly private. The King won’t welcome any speculation about this law and frankly your position is hardly secure.” He flicked a glance at Arthur then looked back at Merlin. “But for myself... it’s my experience that if you bar a door, things come in at the window. Magic is difficult to ban, as you can see,” he gestured at Merlin, “and it seems that Ghent may have the right of it, regulating it rather than banning it. But if Prince Arthur will forgive me, I don’t think logic was much in the King’s thoughts when he imposed the ban.”
“My mother’s death was a great blow to him.” Arthur agreed carefully.
Prendergast bowed a little in his chair. “Just so.” He looked back at Merlin. “Have I satisfied your curiosity, your Highness?”
Merlin nodded, his expression a little absent. “Should Arthur decide to lift that ban,” both nobles shifted in their seats, “what would you do?”
“These are all hypothetical questions, I assume?” Prendergast asked slowly.
Merlin met his eyes and smiled suddenly. “Of course,” he said easily, “I’m getting to know you as much as you’re getting to know me. I wanted to know what sort of person you are.”
“You have an ingenious method.” Prendergast smiled back. “Somewhat dangerous, but interesting.”
“Debate is dangerous?” Merlin asked.
“Debates on magic when Uther Pendragon is your King – saving your Highness’ presence,” he nodded at Arthur, who shrugged, “that is dangerous. But you’re safe enough with me.”
“If I’m making you uncomfortable, please don’t think you have to answer,” Merlin said politely, bringing the conversation back on course with a skill Arthur hadn’t known he had. It was more than likely that it was unintentional, but it was worth remembering.
Prendergast just shook his head. “I’ll do my best. Forgive me saying so, but... neither of you really understand what civil war is like.” Arthur inclined his head; Merlin sat motionless. “I have lived through half a decade of civil war and a decade of uneasy alliance after uneasy alliance before that. I would do a great deal to make sure that we never revisit such times; that my children never live through such a war. I would support the King in all but the most unworthy cause.”
“I think I understand.” Merlin nodded slowly. “You support Uther in this to avoid having to break with him; and would support Arthur in a reformation for the same reason?”
“Exactly, your Highness.”
“Most of those on the council support my father’s policy.” Arthur broke in abruptly. “Such a reformation would be impossible, surely?”
Prendergast looked between them. “I’m old, but I’m not stupid, my Lords. Why the sudden interest in the magic laws?”
Arthur looked briefly at Merlin the turned to Prendergast again. “You’ve been very honest with us, sir,” he said quietly, “and nothing you’ve said will leave this room. May I have the same assurance from you?”
Prendergast bowed. “Of course, my Lord.”
“Very good.” Arthur fell silent for a moment; Merlin, recognising that Arthur wanted to field this question and unsure what answer he could give without incriminating himself, kept quiet. “Until recently, I thought exactly what I had been taught to think of magic,” Arthur said eventually. “I believed it was dangerous and evil, and then this happened.” He didn’t need to so much as glance at Merlin for his listeners to know what he was talking about. “Even though it wasn’t intended to be good, I can see that magic can do – wonderful things as well as awful ones.” He shook his head, with it shaking off any of his former introspection. “By forcing it out, we sow bitterness.” He said, his voice stronger now. “Welcoming it back in might save us a little of the back-lash from that.” A pause. “I didn’t live through it,” he said haltingly, “but I would hate to see another civil war in Camelot. And one where all the magic is on one side...”
They all winced.
“Peasants live hard lives,” Merlin spoke up when it became obvious no one else was going to. “In my village, we were some of the luckier ones: every year a good harvest, fewer harsh winters than most, less children dying. But we all know that luck runs out,” and if some of that luck had been due to Merlin’s presence, only Arthur need infer it, “and hope does too, after a while. Magic doesn’t. If it was allowed, it could keep a lot of people from dying.”
Prendergast’s expression was almost pitying. “Teaching people to expect miracles isn’t good for them-”
“Letting them live without hope is worse! No food or medicine or hope, it’s a harder life than you’d think!” Merlin said firmly, sounding almost sarcastic before he shook his head, subsiding a little. “Forgive me.” He said after a moment’s silence. “What I mean to say is – magic can’t make miracles, my Lord. A few people can, of course,” his eyes met Arthur’s for a brief second, “but most sorcerers aren’t miracle workers, and it’s only since magic has been outlawed that people expect them to be. What they can do is make childbirth easier,” Prendergast’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Arthur’s mouth tightened at that, “like it did for your sister, keep grain sheds secure, work charms against fire and bandits, keep water clean. Little things to you, maybe, but enormous if you’ve got very little to start with.”
Prendergast watched him in silence for a moment then nodded. “Of course, I understand your position.” A momentary pause. “Should things hypothetically come to that,” he met Merlin’s eyes, allowing amusement to show in his own, “I would say... take care with the other nobles in the council.” He nodded at Arthur. “They’ve made their names on Uther’s anti-magic policy. Be wary of them.”
“No reform ever pleases everyone.” Arthur said carefully.
“The trick lies in making sure it doesn’t offend too many.” Prendergast agreed. “If you were to follow this course, I would simply say...” he pursed his lips, evidently considering how to continue. “Many of these men’s sons are knights and under your influence, my Lord.” He said slowly. “Get to them quickly and draw them into your circle – sway them to your point of view. If they are convinced of your plan, you’ve won the battle for the future.”
“I don’t want this to become a battle with my father,” Arthur said. “There’s truth in what you say, of course, my Lord, but were I to attempt this, I wouldn’t want my father to have to-” he broke off. “Put like that it sounds like cowardice.” He sighed. “This policy is – so dear to my father, if I don’t agree with it, if he knew I was considering repealing this law, it would – I can’t say what would happen. It – it would break his heart again. Magic killed my mother, he would see this as it stealing his son.”
Prendergast gave him a pitying look. “An unenviable position, my Lord.”
“Just so.” He sighed, shaking his head. “In any case. We could always deal with anyone who disagreed in the time honoured way.”
“Arthur, executions aren’t the way forward...” Merlin began, but Arthur just shook his head.
“No, Merlin,” the ‘you idiot’ couldn’t be said in front of Prendergast but Merlin heard it anyway, “we’d go on progress.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. “And what would that do?” he asked.
“We’d stay with the nobles most likely to cause problems.” Arthur explained. “It’d be a sign of favour, staying with such loyal members of the council – the king trusts Lord Such-and-Such so much he brought his consort and children with him to stay.” Merlin flushed, but Arthur warned him off whatever facetious comment he had planned with a look and a glance towards Prendergast. “It’s also a way for us to make them pay through the nose for the privilege. My father made it illegal for the nobles to keep more than fifty armed men on their lands for the protection of their castle. If they can prove they need more, then their peasants can be mobilised, or mercenaries brought in; but if they were really angry, they wouldn’t stand by one of the king’s laws. By making them pay for us to stay with them, we ensure that they haven’t got the money to raise an army against us when we push through reforms they might – disapprove of.”
Prendergast’s smile was a little bitter, and Merlin realised how much like betrayal this must seem to him. “A well-documented way to keep your nobles loyal. And if you have their sons’ loyalties any rumours they might try to spread about your kingship would find it – difficult to take root.”
Betrayal and counselling them to steal away the loyalties of men’s sons; a double blow for a father. Merlin shook his head. “What a lovely hypothetical solution.” He said brightly, and the heavy, sombre atmosphere lightened a little. “No, less hypothetically, Lord Prendergast, what do you think of the name ‘Bran’?”
**
The rest of the meeting passed along much safer lines – court protocol, whose help to solicit for Merlin and who to avoid, safer topics by far – and Prendergast left smiling, his conclusions on Merlin evidently favourable. Arthur was markedly less pleased, turning to Merlin with a frown the moment the door shut behind their guest.
“What in the Gods’ names were you thinking, bringing something like that up in front of a stranger?” he demanded, keeping his voice low. “What if he’d gone straight to my father and said ‘by the way, your majesty, your son’s unnatural lover is far too interested in magic’? What then, Merlin?!” His voice rose. “Do you honestly think there is anything I could do to protect you if my father decided to have you killed?”
“Well, forgive me for thinking you weren’t idiot enough to bring someone like that to a private discussion!” Merlin returned hotly, defensive.
Arthur dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, but you have to learn, Merlin, you can’t tell what people’s views on magic are in this court. I respect Prendergast, but for all I knew, he could have been as rabidly anti-magic as my father.”
“If that had been the case, surely he wouldn’t have stood being around me – not with this thing on the way.” Merlin pointed out tiredly, all his fight gone. “Look, if he had... reacted badly, I can think of half a dozen ways to make sure he never remembered the conversation, all of them harmless and permanent. This protection kick you’re on is very sweet and very unnecessary.”
“You just have to be careful, in court.” Arthur explained, equally tired. “You can’t trust everyone you meet, they’ll devour you.”
The weariness in Merlin’s eyes softened minutely. “You’re not listening to me,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry. “I don’t trust everyone – I trusted you when you said he was a good man. I just wanted to see how far I could trust him.”
“Fine.” Arthur sighed. “Next time, choose a less – volatile method, though, alright?”
Merlin just nodded, almost dismissively. “We are going to have to repeal your father’s laws on magic, though, you know that, right? Gaius had a point – things are going to be difficult, even more difficult, if this child has... my kind of problem.”
“We’ll hide it.” Arthur said, knowing that he sounded rather dismissive himself; if Merlin could be easy over Arthur’s concerns, Arthur could make light of Merlin’s for the time being.
Not a sensible course, it seemed.
“Talk to my mother about that.” Merlin said very dryly. “She had enough fun hiding my magic from a small border village in a country where magic wasn’t technically illegal. Imagine trying that with a tiny prince or princess in this court.” Arthur winced. “Exactly. So. You heard Prendergast – we have to start laying the groundwork now.”
“What were you thinking of doing?” Arthur asked. Much though he might have liked Merlin to be careful to the point of indolence until the baby arrived, he knew better than to force the issue.
Merlin, though, surprised him again. “Nothing, until his royal highness here makes an appearance.” He said rather moodily. “Or at least, not until I’ve sorted everything out. For the moment, I’ve got enough to worry about.” He glanced at Arthur. “You could start though, y’know. With the knights.”
“That’s right, shift the responsibility.” Arthur grinned, and Merlin laughed.
“Playing to my talents.” He grinned. “Look, we’ve got plenty of time to work out what to do. We don’t even know whether it’s going to be a girl or a boy yet, let’s not worry about it having my kind of problem just now.”
Arthur shrugged. “If he does, we’ll just say it was because he was created by a spell, and that it can be controlled. I’m sure you can work something out.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Merlin shook his head, unwilling to be drawn into any kind of fight, and Arthur just laughed, relaxing into a comfortable silence at least.
It lasted maybe ten minutes before the knock came at the door signalling Morgana and Gwen’s arrival. Arthur heaved a sigh.
“I knew it couldn’t last long,” he muttered. “Enter!”
Gwen shut the door behind her mistress and herself, dipping into a low curtsey and refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. Morgana rested a hand on her elbow for a moment in reassurance before sweeping towards the table, a gesture curiously reminiscent of Arthur’s own habit of trying to reassure Merlin through touch.
“Arthur.” She greeted her brother with a smile which was almost mocking in its sweetness. “Merlin, how are you? How was Lord Prendergast?” Her smile lost its edge.
Arthur glanced at Merlin. “How do you know about Prendergast?”
“Please, Arthur, one day you’ll realise that I know everything.” She said glibly. “Did you shock him with your views on the peasantry, Merlin?”
“Actually, I diverted him by asking about magic.” Merlin grinned. “All part of my cunning plan.”
Morgana laughed, and even Gwen, obviously uncomfortable, cracked a smile. “I see. I bet that went down well.”
“If the guards come, I’m giving Merlin up for lost.” Arthur said, but there was a smile in his tone.
“Rubbish.” Merlin told him easily, missing the way Morgana glanced between them sharply before exchanging a quick look with Gwen. “Remember, you love me sometimes.”
Arthur’s return smile was a little awkward, but Merlin wasn’t looking at him and for once Morgana pretended not to notice; this evening was about more things than teasing Arthur. It didn’t mean it couldn’t be remembered for blackmail later.
Gwen finally cleared her throat and spoke up, flushing very red with nerves. “Should I – I’ll, um, fetch dinner, my lords – my lady-”
“Gwen,” Merlin shook his head instinctively, “don’t call me that, please.”
She shot a glance at Arthur, apparently without meaning to. He shook his head.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, Guinevere.” He said quietly, looking rather uncomfortable himself.
Merlin and Morgana exchanged looks. “Gwen, send someone for food,” she said, moving in swiftly before an awkward silence could ensue. “Don’t worry about getting it yourself, you’re a guest here too, remember?” She sat in one of the chairs around Arthur’s table and smiled at her foster brother. “Now, Arthur. What was it you two wanted with Gwen and me?”
**
They’re apparently stuck in the longest day ever and it’s not over yet. O.o Still, nearly done with this day! Next up: a little more
Did you like it? Do tell. *g*
