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When Arthur heard the horse following him long habit (almost instinct) made him expect to find Merlin riding up to join him when he looked back, having ignore whatever reason Arthur gave him to stay in Camelot instead of following him into danger. Despite himself, Arthur had never managed to be truly upset that Merlin had followed him. His guilt at leading Merlin into danger had been balanced by the trust it showed.
Merlin wasn’t stupid (though that never stopped him from doing stupid things), whatever Arthur sometimes said. He knew the risk that came with riding at Arthur’s side. It sometimes felt like Merlin trusted Arthur more than Arthur could always trust himself. Besides, he wasn’t entirely (or even mostly) useless to have along, because there’s more to a man than his skill with a sword.
Arthur tried to banish those memories. He didn’t want to remember and find them tainted by what he knew now. It was painful to pour over his memories of Morgana, trying to find out when things had changed but that wasn’t enough to stop him from turning them around in his head on dark nights. He knew that trying to do the same with Merlin would be unbearable. He didn’t know how much of him would be left, if he tried.
It wasn’t Merlin, of course. Merlin was off enjoying not being stuck with Arthur. It was Elyan who brought his horse forward so he could ride alongside Arthur. Again, Arthur wished Guinevere was here. It had been the right move to send her to Nemeth. It proved his trust in her and her judgement, without fearing too much for her safety. It had been right to send some of the newer knights of his round table, to prove his trust in them as well. He did trust that they would protect her, just as he trusted her. That didn’t make the ache of her absence any less.
Arthur was grateful that Elyan was the knight who joined him now. Arthur had known immediately that he didn’t want to take this trip alone, but he couldn’t have asked any of his knights to join him. Not when he had left without having said that he should have company. It would suggest that he questioned his own judgement (his father would never display such weakness). There was a relief he could never admit to that it had been taken out of his hands.
Arthur trusted Elyan. Perhaps Arthur should question his record on trusting people, but he won’t let another blow make him doubt everyone. It would be harder to doubt Elyan than it would be to view him with suspicion. Arthur trusted all his knights and was humbled that they trusted him in turn.
It went deeper than even that trust with Elyan. He had cut through the barrier Arthur held between commoner and noble without effort. Arthur had helped Elyan when he returned to Camelot for Guinevere’s sake, but he had found himself liking the man in his own right. Elyan had the same skill at knowing what to say and understanding when Arthur shouldn’t be left stuck in his own thoughts.
Elyan had told him stories of the trouble he had gotten himself into when he was younger; the people he shouldn’t have listened to and the guilt of being too proud (too afraid) to have returned home when he should’ve. It seemed to ease Elyan’s spirit to tell them, and eased Arthur with the proof that you could truly grow beyond mistakes. His father’s unjust death and Guinevere’s banishment lay between them and yet hadn’t turned into festering wounds.
Apparently, there were some people who could do that. As complicated as Uther’s legacy as king and man felt now that he was gone (in someways it had been so much easier to stand against him when he’d been alive), Arthur didn’t have to – couldn’t if he wanted to – deny that it wasn’t a skill his father had and hadn’t been one he’d passed down.
“I didn’t ask for an escort,” Arthur said, without any heat. The lessons on not sharing what he felt had been passed down, and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing. To share what he felt about Elyan would be – well, he didn’t know, and so it was probably better not to find out.
“I heard you fell off your horse. Gwen would never forgive me if I let you ride alone after that.” Elyan said.
“I didn’t fall off my horse. I remembered that there was something I had to do before I left.” He should clap whoever had suggested that in irons. He could at least give them a proper glare.
“I thought it sounded unlikely.” Unlike some people, Elyan didn’t feel the need to try to drive Arthur to madness through unending teasing. “I heard, too, that you meant to visit the druids.”
“I am.” Arthur had always done his best to keep track of the movement of druids. He had once claimed it was on his father’s orders, and it was true enough that he didn’t have to admit that it was for his own sake as well. That had been a wound that had festered in his heart. It remained, but he hoped that enough of the poison had been bled out so that someday it would just be a scar.
Iseldir had make camp not that far from the city – according to what Arthur had heard – so he could visit without traveling so far as to start people worrying about the absence of their king. If it wasn’t Iseldir, Arthur couldn’t say that he would make the trip at all. The druids had every right to their anger, but Arthur was too much of a coward to face that now, and Iseldir was always more forgiving than was deserved. More practically, he was unlikely to try to injure him, and so it wasn’t completely irresponsible to go to him.
Elyan just nodded. He had his own connection with the druids. Arthur suspected he’d made his own visit to them after the boy’s spirit had been laid to rest, but he didn’t ask. Elyan was comfortable in riding without talking (again, unlike certain others), but Arthur wasn’t surprised when he spoke again.
“Some of the knights are surprised at your acceptance of the existence of Merlin’s magic.” Arthur firmly decided not to ask what they might have said about Arthur’s feelings about Merlin himself, beyond that he had magic.
“Were you one of them?” Arthur asked, instead.
Elyan shrugged slightly. “You have never claimed to have any love for magic.” He could point out that the opposite was truer.
“I can’t claim to love it now, either.” He allowed himself a quiet moment to think of what he wanted to say. “But I’ve found it hard to truly believe that it was as evil as my father painted it. Few things are that simple. It was Morgana who made it hard to believe that magic itself was a corrupting force.” And Merlin had blown the last of that away.
“…I would have thought that Morgana’s actions reinforce that belief.” Elyan hadn’t known Morgana well, but he had known her as Gwen’s mistress rather than having first met her when she tried to seize control of Camelot. She had tried to kill Gwen, so Arthur couldn’t image he thought of her fondly, but he had something to compare it too.
“I wanted to believe that it was magic. I still believe that her magic made her vulnerable to Morgause’s manipulation, and it gave her power that went far beyond a decent grasp on how to use a sword.” Arthur didn’t have any magic, and it had taken Morgause only a few hours to convince him to try to kill his father. Morgause had had Morgana far longer, and Morgana had magic. Arthur couldn’t imagine what that was like. And that wasn’t even counting their sisterhood. She had helped Morgana with her dreams, while Arthur had ignored Morgana’s concern.
Arthur didn’t know if there was a way he could’ve responded to Morgana’s dreams that would’ve been better, but when he went through his list of failures his dismissal of them (no matter how tied that was to concerns for Morgana’s health) made it on there. If he was given too much time to brood on it, almost everything could make it on there, but the point still stood.
Elyan waited patiently for Arthur to continue.
“Perhaps if Morgana didn’t want to take the crown, I could believe she had just been corrupted by magic. But you only have to let yourself think of it to understand that that’s not about magic. My – our – father loved her more. She was his eldest child.” Probably. Arthur liked to think she was the oldest of the children his father knew about, but he’s still a little scarred by his father’s meant-to-be-instructive tales of the natural urge towards youthful dalliances. Arthur traced his lack of such dalliances directly to that talk. As to loving her more – well, Morgana hadn’t killed the wife he loved, and Arthur had always felt that Uther thought more highly of her spirit.
“Yet our father never acknowledged her. She played the part a queen might in many ways, but always with the understanding that it was just as his ward – however beloved that ward was. She would never been queen.” Arthur was deeply grateful that Uther had made it clear that Arthur was expected to make a political match – and the daughter of a dead knight, and one who had been deeply loyal to Camelot – wasn’t such a match. For his own health, Arthur remembered his feelings for Morgana always being completely platonic. “When she found out the truth, how could she not want to seize the role. I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He was sure his father would’ve thought less of him if he hadn’t. “If it was just magic, she could’ve had different priorities.”
No, there was no doubt that his sister hadn’t been changed by magic when she had responded in the only way you could expect. It hurt, of course, and yet wouldn’t it hurt as much to know instead that Morgana was gone, spirit consumed by magic?
Shaking himself out of his revery, Arthur looked over at Elyan. Elyan was staring up at the trees, with an expression that was hard to read. When Elyan realized that Arthur had finished speaking, he tore his eyes from the trees to look at Arthur.
“I understand,” he said. He sounded a bit choked up. He was probably still working through his thoughts on magic. He had been raised in Camelot, after all, and this was sudden to him. “I thought it might be the druids.”
“Not every druid has magic. They did play a part, but it was harder to accept until after Morgana.” Once Arthur had started down that road… he’d looked for any way he could to stop. He didn’t follow his father’s steps in persecuting those who used magic (people who tried to kill him were judged on that ground), but he hadn’t pursued the truth, and he hadn’t spoken against his father’s words, even if he hadn’t repeated them.
Magic was dangerous. There were other necessary reforms to focus on. It’s only been a few months since Morgana had been defeated (again), and it wasn’t unreasonable to do other things first. What had Merlin expected? He clearly didn’t believe in talking about magic. He generally avoided discussion of it in general, and Arthur had, actually, been very thoughtful not to bring something up that made Merlin uncomfortable. Merlin had said that Arthur’s words to the druid boy had been moving, but it hadn’t moved him to casually bring up other people who happened to have magic.
Actions spoke louder than words (or could be a lot easier than words, at least) and if Arthur had – reasonably! With little proof that he shouldn’t – trusted his uncle, he had listened to Merlin too so who’s actions spoke louder? At least Agravaine had wanted the best for someone, even if it wasn’t Arthur. Merlin didn’t have that excuse.
Arthur liked to think that Agravaine’s betrayal had been at least a little motivated by his sister’s death. There’s nobility in that. …Merlin had given him very weird looks when Arthur had told him that, but Merlin didn’t have any such noble reasons for his betrayal. If he had, he’d had plenty of time to tell Arthur about it, and he hadn’t.
Merlin had said once that perhaps the sorcerers who came to Camelot tended to have evil schemes because why else would they want to? Arthur hadn’t been paying full attention to Merlin’s complaints, what with having to focus on the mirror world throwing off his swordsmanship, but now it could be seen as Merlin revealing something about himself. Something that Arthur had once thought was a common thing for Merlin to do, but looking back Arthur could see that that was false.
It was with such cheering thoughts in mind that Arthur reached the edge of the druid camp, which made him even more grateful to have Elyan at his side. Arthur tried not to take his bad mood out on other people (these days), but it was easier when he had support (and the potential judgement of a man he respected).
Arthur didn’t see any sign that they were observed, but it wasn’t long before Iseldir stepped out from between the trees. Magic was probably involved, but it wasn’t magic that made Iseldir stand out as a leader. It was a quality Arthur hoped others saw in him. He was certain it could be faked, if you put the effort in.
“Arthur Pendragon,” the druid said.
“Hello,” Arthur said, for the lack of anything better. Well, maybe it was a good way to show he was starting on a different foot than usual. Elyan took his cues from Arthur, and didn’t interrupt to say anything about proper titles.
“Sir Elyan,” the druid said, with another nod. …Arthur probably deserved that, after their last meeting, and, besides, it was far more straightforward to acknowledge a knight than to acknowledge a king when the relationship between Camelot and the druids was so complicated. “What brings you here?”
“I have questions about magic.”
“Do you?” Iseldir’s words had a certain lilt to them. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Sorcerers obviously couldn’t automatically recognize each other (or Morgana was very bad at it, but he didn’t think that was it), but he remembered the little druid boy and his connection to Morgana. He’d given Merlin a few weird stares too. The boy’s father had been killed, and he was a druid, so Arthur hadn’t found anything strange in the weird staring. Druids did that a lot, and it made sense they started young.
“Did you know that Merlin has magic?” He felt strangely protective. Or, possibly, just annoyed.
“Not in those words,” Iseldir said, as if that made any sense. Arthur glanced at Elyan, who looked as confused as Arthur.
“Merlin has magic,” Arthur said, deciding to skip weird word games. He wondered if druids just talked like this all the time, or if it was reserved for outsiders. Maybe it was for outsiders that they disliked.
“Where is… Merlin now?” Iseldir asked, gaze intense on Arthur in a way that suggested either concern for Merlin or that he felt a generalized need to be overly intense at random interludes.
“He went on holiday,” Elyan said, as Arthur wasn’t sure how he should answer. It wasn’t a great answer, but Arthur didn’t actually have a better one.
“Ah,” Iseldir said. He didn’t say anything else.
It reminded Arthur of dealing with a not necessarily unfriendly, but not friendly kingdom, which was a much easier way to think about this.
“With Merlin… elsewhere, I have need of someone else who can speak on magic. If any are willing, I would be grateful if a druid would be willing to tell me more about magic.”
“Why do you wish to know?” There was no obvious give, but Arthur had been dealing with politics long enough to feel like he had a foothold. There was a sense of tension released, that Arthur hadn’t been aware was there in the first place.
“Camelot is responsible for a great deal of harm to your people. I have taken steps to prevent that from continuing, but ignorance can cause harm where it’s not meant.” There was enough truth to that that he didn’t think it sounded like an excuse.
Iseldir waited for a beat and then nodded. “I will ask. I would ask that you and your brother remain here while we discuss the matter.” He vanished back into the trees.
Arthur looked at Elyan and saw some of the same surprise at the druid’s simple comment. It was the truth, but one that the politics of Camelot – and, admittedly, their own history – meant was rarely said so directly. In many ways the knights were a brotherhood, but it was Elyan who was bound to him through marriage.
“You don’t expect me to try to take over Camelot, do you?” Elyan joked, breaking the quiet.
“I believe you swore not to do that around when you gained your knighthood, so you can be excused.” Arthur didn’t point out that Elyan didn’t have any motivation to do so, as it wasn’t a chance for him to try to prove or disprove his father’s love, but that would ruin the joke.
“…Does that make Morgana my sister?” Arthur thought that was half a joke, but there was a certain undercurrent to it that he can recognize as someone who has to deal with that himself. It made Guinevere Morgana’s sister, which was strange to think. Gwen had not appreciated Arthur’s joke about a normal Pendragon relationship with a sibling. It had been quite amusing, but Arthur had retired it all the same. Sometimes, that’s what marriage can mean.
“Try not to think about it,” he advised Elyan, instead.
Elyan smiled. “Well, at least I’ve never had an objection to a brother.”
As Elyan was not a Pendragon, he had the decency to pretend to be looking at the trees instead of at Arthur wrestling down his emotional reaction to that.