This is the sequel to Heads Will Roll. You don't necessarily need to go back and read that one to get this one as this one is terribly different and has little to do with its predecessor. The only background you would need to know is that Merlin's secret is out and about as far as Arthur is concerned. Also there's much ado about a sinister witch in the previous story, but she's not quite as prevalent in this one, so you needn't worry about it. (But to you Carrow fans, don't worry she and Gwaine WILL be back around.)

What everyone needs to know is that this veers quite far off track from the series though you can consider it to be firmly rooted somewhere in the third season. Morgana is still smirking and plotting, but the Cup of Life has not commenced.

That's enough chit chat. You know I don't usually talk before the beginning, just needed to get you all situated. Enjoy!

Sidenote: This takes place three months after Heads Will Roll.

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Chapter 1: Rendezvous

##

A chair crashed into the wall behind Morgana as she entered the tavern, but she was so preoccupied she didn't even flinch. She quickened her stride to the bar to avoid being hit in the head by a stray tankard of mead. Her head already felt as though it were clamped inside a metal vice, the last thing she needed was to be impaled in a bar fight.

"Can I get you sommat, ma'am?" the barkeep grunted at her.

She arched an eyebrow at him disdainfully as though in disbelief he should have the audacity to think she would drink anything he had to offer. He returned the look and continued on to a more receptive patron. She tugged her cloak further down over her face, praying that no one would recognize her. The last thing she needed was word to get back to Uther and his sniveling little son that the fair Lady Morgana was consorting with riffraff like this at the bloody Barking Spider.

She adjusted herself on the stool she had claimed, straightening her back and then supposing she really ought to be hunching. If the fine silk cloak she had foolishly thought to wear didn't give her away, her posture probably would. Morgana was not thrilled with the task that Morgause had set before her this evening. It was all she could do to slip away from Uther this night - the night before the peacekeeping summit with Camelot's few remaining allies. She had grown so tired of playing his doting ward. It made her sick to her stomach.

She had feigned a headache to relieve herself of his company. The unfortunate thing of it was that no sooner had she spoken the lie, a headache really had manifested itself. It hadn't been unexpected, of course, she had spent most of the evening with the king - it was bound to show up sooner or later.

Morgana's jaw clenched as the dull throbbing climaxed behind her eyes.

"Better not be late," she muttered to herself. She rested her elbow on the bar, but quickly pulled it away as she realized how much filth had accumulated on the surface. Was that ale or piss? Was there a difference? She grimaced. Drawing her eyes away from the questionable yellow liquid fermenting on the bar, she scanned the tavern for the man whom Morgause had arranged the meeting with, a man by the name of Marek. Unfortunately her sister had given her little by way of description. He was tall, gruff, and mean-looking. Yes, Morgause, thank you for the extremely helpful if not completely inept illustration of every man currently lapping up luke warm piss-ale.

She sat inhumanly still for the next ten minutes, hoping not to draw any unwanted attention. While she was becoming increasingly aware at how ill suited she was for under cover work, Morgana was also grateful for the chance to be outside Camelot's suffocating walls. She was blissfully independent here and, for that feeling, she was prepared to spend many more evenings in a sweaty, damp tavern in the middle of nowhere.

An explosion of laughter brought her out of her thoughts and her eyes landed on a group of smelly men that had chosen seats adjacent to her. They all seemed to be looking at her with great interest. She found a different spot in the tavern to focus on and resisted the urge to scoff at them. She didn't want them to mistake her indignation for interest. So often men had such a hard time differentiating between the two. Clearly the tallest one was just such a man.

"Are you hidin' somethin', milady?" he said, taking a seat beside her. Morgana stiffened as a metallic, spoiled odor assaulted her nostrils.

"I'm here on business, sir. I suggest you mind your own," she said.

"I don't want to impede on your business, girlie, I'm just curious to know what's under that hood. Can you blame me?" he said, leaning forward and offering her a grimy grin. A filthy, gnarled hand had already inched towards the hood of her cloak, but someone grabbed it before Morgana had a chance to act.

"The lady might feel more keen on being revealing once she's finished her business." Morgana turned her head up to see a hooded man leaning over them.

"Yeah, no one asked your opinion," her smelly companion retorted. "Piss off." The man, though not as offensive to her senses as the thug beside her, was still quite surly. Morgana was possessed with the urge to say 'piss off' as well. She did not like men fighting her battles for her. It was not heroic, it was not attractive - it was patronizing.

"As soon as I've had a talk with the lady, she's all yours," he said, leaning into the thug's face and letting his hood drop which revealed a scowl that left little room for argument. The thug suddenly appeared a touch frightened, though not frightened enough to be on his way. Morgana rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, glancing at the door in case she had missed her liaison. There was a loud thump as she did so and her companion ended up crumpled on the floor. The hooded man took his seat.

"That was unnecessary," she prompted.

"On the contrary, I'll think you'll find that it was entirely necessary. Unless you're just here for the atmosphere," the man said.

"You're Marek," Morgana said, raising an eyebrow as she took him in. He nodded gruffly and dug out what looked like a hip flask. He took a deep swig from it and then offered her some, which she declined.

"Suit yourself," he said, draining the flask. She frowned at him curiously. A very tall man, disheveled and tired looking with wavy auburn hair cropped short. Morgause had not chosen the word 'mean' lightly. He was older than her, by perhaps five or six years - but not as old as she had imagined when Morgause had told her of him. Marek was a well known criminal, a man who knew how to get things. Morgause had told her that he was more than likely a murderer, but it meant that he was the kind of man you could buy. And that was just the sort of man they could use.

"Tell me, why couldn't Morgause conduct this meeting herself?" Marek said. He spoke with a rich foreign brogue that Morgana didn't recognize. His face was hard and stoic, but she thought that his grey-blue eyes might be expressive given the chance.

"She was otherwise engaged," Morgana replied stiffly.

"And I'm sure you're perfectly qualified, aren't you?" Marek said. Morgana did not appreciate his tone.

"Do you have what we are after or don't you?" Morgana said.

"Depends. Do you have payment?"

Morgana undid a small bag from her waist and dropped it quietly on the counter, eyes darting about warily.

"Relax, girl. This place is quite used to shady deals and assorted brawls. I think the only thing that has caught it off guard is you," he said. "You could not be more conspicuous if you tried." He sounded almost amused by her. Morgana scowled at him. She would have loved to set him on fire at this moment. Set the whole bloody establishment ablaze. Her irritation had quickly turned to anger and that throbbing in her head had only proved to intensify.

Marek swiped the bag off the table and it disappeared into the folds of his jacket. She raised an expectant eyebrow at him. He produced a small tin box and placed it on the table. Morgana's eyes narrowed.

"This is it?"she said. "I thought it would be bigger. Surely it can't fit inside that."

"The box is bigger on the inside," Marek assured her. "Go on, pick it up." Morgana glared at him and went to pick up the small box. She dropped it almost immediately, her hand now a bright pink where she touched it.

"It's hot," she remarked. She glared at his hands and saw that they were calloused and weathered, a sort of natural hide. Hers were soft and fleshy from disuse.

"Yes," he replied, tone patronizing again as he nodded at her. He had already begun to get up. Morgana ignored this and continued to stare at the box uncomfortably. Now that she saw it there and knew what her sister planned to do with it, something in her decided it may not be the best idea. "Might want to try a pair of gloves, milady," Marek offered snidely.

The comment snapped her out of the short-lived anxiety. She quickly scooped the tin box into a pocket in her cloak and smirked at the man. "Pleasure doing business with you, sir," Morgana said, offering him a hand. He took it reluctantly, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Aye, the same to you, I'm sure," he replied, then he frowned as he looked down at her wrist. He jerked her arm forward and pushed up her sleeve.

"Let go of me!" she said, unable to keep the shock and outrage from her voice.

"Pretty bracelet you have there, my lady. Where did you get it?" he asked.

"A friend," she replied, jerking her hand away from him, "not that it is any business of yours." He grinned at her.

"No, no. I suppose you're right. Though if I were you, I'd find myself better friends," Marek said. He straightened himself, and replaced his hood. Before turning to leave, he gave her one last smile. A real smile this time, rather than a sneer. Morgana could only frown uncomfortably after him.

She looked down at the bracelet, her first gift from Morgause, and rolled her eyes. She did not know what the man had been on about, but he was clearly not to be trusted. If what was in that tin box did not play out, though, they would know where to find him. The bag of coins he had taken had a locator spell which would rub off on him. She smiled to herself, Morgause loved turning men into minions and Morgana was beginning to acquire the same partiality.

The tin box was vibrating warmly against her leg, she only hoped it would not burn a hole through the cloak. She rather liked this cloak.

####

"Merlin," Arthur touted huffily.

"Right, sorry," Merlin apologized, bumbling into the prince's room with sleep in his eyes.

"You've got something in your hair," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow as he shrugged a jacket over his red tunic. Merlin ruffled his hair and a few twigs fell to the ground. He winced at the trail of dirt he had dragged in, knowing he was going to be the one to clean it. He let out a yawn and went to collect the prince's scabbard for him, who waved him off and attached it himself. Merlin couldn't help but notice that Arthur had a growing insistence of attending to his own needs since he discovered his servant could set him on fire with his mind if he so chose.

"Come on, Merlin, I need you fighting fit today. You look like a - "

"Servant?" Merlin offered irritably.

"A servant's servant!" Arthur paused and his expression softened. "She doesn't know that you followed her, does she?" Merlin shook his head and leaned against the wall.

It had been a month since Merlin had informed Arthur of Morgana's betrayal. He took the news about as well as one might expect. Anger, disbelief - threatening to have Merlin executed, meanwhile neglecting to follow through. Arthur still held that Morgana was being coerced into working for Morgause somehow. He refused to believe that she would turn on him, on the kingdom. Merlin thought Arthur was waiting for Merlin to tell him that she was possessed or that she was an impostor. He was still in a stage of denial about the woman he had always considered to be a sister. Of course, Merlin had also regrettably mused that Arthur may have (at least at one point) harbored less than brotherly feelings for Morgana.

Merlin may have left the bit out about her actually being his sister. Baby steps.

"I don't know what she was up to, though. I saw her meet with someone - a very large man by the name of Marek. Then I sat in the wrong chair and got thrown into a wall. Last thing I saw was her shoving a box into her cloak. She paid him and left," Merlin recounted, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't tell Arthur that he also ended up being flung out of the bar entirely and that was why he happened to look like he'd crawled home. Of course, that was because he had crawled home. At least part of the way.

"A box? That's it?" Arthur said, looking none too pleased with the intel. "Honestly, Merlin, couldn't you have, I don't know, kidnapped the man and got some info out of him?" Merlin scowled at Arthur, who always seemed to think magic was so bloody simple. It wasn't necessarily the magic that was difficult, it was doing magic without it looking like magic. He may have Arthur on his side, but the rest of the kingdom would still be happy to turn in sorcerers to the king and watch a bonfire.

"He was a very scary looking man, Arthur," Merlin said. Arthur frowned at him, unamused. "Next time you can have Leon follow her, how's that?"

"Yes… if only Leon wasn't so damn tall. Sticks out like a sore thumb," Arthur said, considering the prospect. "Do you think you could -"

"No. No, I don't think I could," Merlin said. He had found that he didn't really like Arthur becoming any more comfortable with his magic. He had begun to ask Merlin to solve all their problems that way. Of course Arthur was still uncertain enough about it only to invoke it where matters of Camelot were concerned. Honestly Merlin was beginning to worry about him - all the lies he had told Uther lately, Morgana, magic - how Arthur's head had not exploded was beyond him.

"Fine. I'll come up with an excuse to be in her room later today, after the first meeting. I don't want you anywhere near her in the castle, Merlin," Arthur said, suddenly appearing tired as he recalled the summit. It was clear to Merlin that Arthur would rather deal with Morgana and Morgause, leave the diplomacy to his father, but Uther had been rather volatile lately. Arthur had to be ready with a verbal dustpan should things go awry. "You look like hell. Go get cleaned up and meet me in the square."

Merlin nodded and left.

On his way back to his room, he ran into Gwen, who's face brightened as she saw him. The smile was infectious, and Merlin was finally able to produce one of his own.

"Good morning, Merlin! Oh, has Arthur had you mucking out the stables again?" Gwen asked.

"Um, yes. Where are you going with those flowers?" Merlin said, pointing at the purple bouquet in her arms.

"Pretty, aren't they? Smell a bit funny to me, though. I thought the Lady Morgana might like them," Gwen said, smile fading a bit. Gwen did not yet know about Merlin's magic or Morgana's treachery, but Merlin knew that she was not stupid - she had been noticing Morgana's strange behavior. Arthur had forbidden him from involving her. Merlin regretted the promise as soon as he made it. Ignorance did not make Gwen safe - in fact, very often what she didn't know ended up landing her in the dungeon.

Merlin sniffed the flowers and frowned, wondering if Gwen was trying her hand at passive aggression. "Where did you get them?"

"A woman was selling them in the street," Gwen said, shrugging. "Have you been to see Arthur already this morning?"

"Yes," Merlin said. It hadn't taken fifty seconds for the conversation to turn to Arthur. Perhaps that was a new record. "He's tired. Not looking forward to the summit. He ought to be out in the square greeting new arrivals soon, I'm sure seeing you would make him feel a bit better." Gwen smiled, blushing slightly as she nodded.

She surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. "Cheer up, Merlin." She squeezed his arm and then made her way towards Morgana's bedchambers, still blithely ignorant.

Merlin's stomach churned guiltily. He let out a sigh and ignored it. In a way Merlin almost thought that Arthur wanted to keep Gwen in the dark because he'd been happy to know that he wasn't really the only person who didn't know the secret. No, Arthur wasn't vindictive. Not when it came to Gwen. But he was a prat. And he was giving Merlin a headache. Carrow had been right - Arthur always thought he knew what was best for people and he hadn't the right. But what was Merlin going to do about that? Piss and moan to Gaius, that's what.

Twenty minutes later, Merlin was freshly bathed, smelling like roses, and feeling much better. He marched into Gaius's work room with a half smile on his face, which was quickly replaced with a frown as he got a good whiff of what the physician was cooking.

"Merlin, where were you last night?" Gaius barked from behind him. The old man had been gathering herbs from a shelf. He flipped through a book and then began chopping the leaves finely.

"Ugh, what are you making?" Merlin asked.

"A salve for King Graeme Mendanbar. The man has a dreadful injury from a hunting incident and he's going to be under my care while he's here for the summit. And I've also got to whip up a draught for Duke Laurence, the man suffers from migraines. Answer the question," Gaius replied.

Merlin pursed his lips apologetically.

"Merlin! You told me you wouldn't go snooping around the Lady Morgana's business. You're going to get yourself killed," Gaius said.

"Tell that to Arthur," Merlin said. It hadn't been Arthur's idea, of course, but Merlin felt that Gaius might not be so upset with him if he said that Arthur had commanded it of him. Who was he to disobey a prince's orders? Gaius frowned at him, tossing the leaves he had been chopping into a pot which frothed angrily as he did so.

"Well, what did you find out?" Gaius said, sighing as he stirred the orange liquid. Merlin quickly recounted the tale. "A box? And she gave no clue as to what was inside?"

"No. I couldn't chance following her back. She was a bit more prudent on her way back because of all the attention the drunks were paying her," he said. He wished he'd been able to get closer to Morgana, but his following her rarely went according to plan - he had been overly cautious. "Arthur said he was going to snoop in her room. She doesn't suspect that he suspects her yet."

"That doesn't sound like a terribly good plan," Gaius said.

"I know. I wish he would let me tell Gwen - "

"I happen to agree with Arthur on that. Gwen's already suffered enough, we don't need Gwen to make an enemy of Morgana by accident," Gaius said.

"She's not an idiot! She could pretend just as easily as the rest of us!" Merlin argued.

"What about that friend of yours, the witch? Have you heard from her?" Gaius asked.

"No. Not for weeks. Last I heard she and Gwaine had headed toward Kidwelly," Merlin said regretfully. Business opportunity, she had said - a cursed farm and didn't that sound fantastic? Merlin didn't think so, really. Though now that Merlin thought about it, Carrow's last letter had been a bit stiff and she had made no mention of Gwaine at all. But that wasn't unusual, the two were not a particularly stable couple. If they could even be considered a couple.

"Shame. We could have used her to draw Morgana's attention," Gaius said. Merlin looked at him crossly. The physician had not yet met Carrow, but he did not find what he had heard entirely agreeable. But then she was partially responsible for Merlin and Arthur disappearing for several very long weeks.

"You'd better get out to the square, Merlin. I've got to finish this salve before Graeme arrives," Gaius said, turning his attention back to his fuming orange potion. Merlin wrinkled his nose. It appeared more poisonous than soothing to him. He straightened the scarf around his neck and headed out the door.

####

"Where have you been? I told you to wash up not save a small village," Arthur hissed at him as Merlin strode toward him. While Arthur's tone was unhappy, he had a bright smile on his face. He was meant to be greeting assorted nobles from the neighboring kingdoms of Callai and Strathclyde.

"Sorry, Sire, Gaius held me up," Merlin muttered at Arthur, who was shaking hands with a squat and unassuming little man whom Merlin fancied as a Duke or Earl of something or other. "As did Gwen."

Arthur coughed and the Duke frowned.

"So sorry, Sir Martin. Have you seen Lady Morgana? She's been looking forward to your visit ever since the Tournament last spring," Arthur said with much gusto as he pointed the ward out. Merlin had to stop himself from laughing both at Arthur's throwing Morgana under the carriage like that and the fact that that man happened to pass for a knight.

"That wasn't nice," Merlin said, covering his mouth.

"She's been doing it to me all morning," Arthur replied gruffly. "Are you sure she's working with -" Merlin cut him off with a grim scowl. "Right, right." Merlin couldn't really begin to imagine how Arthur must feel about Morgana. He stole a glance at the fair ward who was graciously accepting the rather thick knight, Sir Martin. She had become so practiced at duplicity that Merlin often found himself seeing the old Morgana. The strong, valiant woman who had helped defend his village, who would lay down her life for a serving girl.

"This couldn't be the young prince," a rich baritone said, forcing Merlin to tear his gaze from Morgana for the moment. Arthur had a broad smile on his face, one that seemed genuine, as he clutched an unfamiliar man's hand.

"Yes, Graeme - fortunately he grew out of that lanky phase," Uther said, making Merlin flinch - something he hoped no one noticed. Camelot's king had been touchy of late and Merlin had a sinking feeling this had something to do with Morgana. She had a way of bending Uther's wrath to her will. Incurring his wrath, of course, was the easiest thing in the world due to Uther's extreme distrust of everyone around him.

"I've heard you're a better swordsman than your father," Graeme said. The older man had light grey hair with just the barest shock of red through it. Though he appeared weary from travel, Merlin saw a mirthful energy in the man's tanned and weathered face. A heavy brow over steel grey eyes allowed him an aggressive air, but his boyish grin softened him considerably. A commanding presence the man had, but it held a certain warmth which Uther's own hardened demeanor lacked.

"I don't know where you get your information, Sir, but I assure you my father can still hold his own. Until, of course, he runs out of breath," Arthur conceded, a teasing smile on his face.

"Boy's got cheek, too!" Graeme said, allowing himself a laugh that came right from his belly. Merlin tried to remember what he knew of King Graeme, which was a gracious little. Merlin remembered Uther openly mocking the man not one week ago for being a coward. It seemed Graeme had a distinct distaste for war or expanding his country. Strathclyde was small compared to Camelot, but no one dared touch it. In spite of his opinion of war, Graeme's men were some of the most feared in the land. Gaius had told Merlin that Graeme was no coward, he was merely exclusive, though Merlin wasn't terribly sure what he meant by that.

Uther clapped his son on the back, a grin gripping his unkind features. Merlin was of the opinion it was forced. Uther did not have the best sense of humor about himself, at least not lately. He wondered if that had anything to do with Morgana whispering into his ear so often about how he was the king, he should not have to take brazen disrespect from anyone. Especially not his son.

"And where is Sofia?" Uther asked.

"I believe she was saying hello to your ward. Lovely young woman that Morgana has grown into," Graeme said. Arthur's smile diminished.

"She certainly has," Uther agreed, turning to look at Morgana. Merlin turned as well, noticing that she had finished speaking with Sir Martin in exchange for an older woman with deep auburn hair. Her back was turned to him so he could not make out her face, but he assumed this was Sofia Mendanbar. Almost as if she could feel them speaking of her, Morgana's eyes met Merlin's and he quickly turned to look back at King Graeme. This didn't seem to help matters as both women decided to join the men's conversation.

"Sofia, so good to see you arrived safely," Uther said.

"Need not sound so surprised, Uther," Sofia said, her cold voice a stark contrast to her husband's. She had sharp, angular features that spoke of an ageless beauty. Her reddish brown hair was already beginning to grey as it framed her face in soft, wispy curls. Her almond shaped eyes held deep blue irises that gave no insight to the woman's character. Unlike her husband, Sofia was unreadable. "Tell me, when do you plan on beginning the summit?"

"My lady, I believe the first charge will begin after the feast later tonight," Arthur said. Sofia looked very displeased with this answer, but her features seemed to soften as Arthur spoke up.

"Good. Do you have anyone that might show me to Graeme's and I's chambers? I should very much like to make sure everything is in order," she said primly.

"Ah, we've arranged separate - " Uther started, but the Lady cut him off.

"Nonsense, you have too many guests to waste an extra on me. I shall share a bedroom with my husband," she said.

"You'll excuse Sofia, she's been a bit grumpy the entire trip," Graeme said. Sofia glared at him, and he only grinned.

Arthur cleared his throat to get their attention once again. "My manservant will show you to your chamber, my lady. We will have your chambermaid notified of the change as well," he said diplomatically. Uther's face had already reddened with anger at being spoken to like that, by a woman no less. Merlin nodded, bowing slightly to Queen Sofia, suddenly more awake than he had been the entire conversation.

Arthur nodded and waved Merlin and the Queen off. Merlin couldn't help but see Morgana smirking at him as he followed Sofia up the stairs, as though she knew this would be a horribly painful experience for him.

"This way, my lady," he said, leading her through the throng of the crowd. He led her down several corridors to the very back of the guest wing, to their second best bedroom. While Uther did not garner much respect for King Graeme, he had still saw fit to equip the Mendanbars with the castle's best accommodations. Merlin now saw that this was probably not for Graeme's benefit so much as his wife.

Once they got to the bedroom, Merlin said, "I'll go and collect your things for you as well, Ma'am, please make yourself at home," and turned to leave. Before he got out the door though, the Queen told him to wait.

"Young master, what's your name?" she asked, her tone no longer cold. Merlin turned to face her and saw that she had replaced the ugly scowl with a genuine smile. Merlin frowned at her, unable to speak. "Well?" she prodded.

"Oh, ah, Merlin, my lady," he replied.

"Well, ah - Merlin, I want to apologize for my previous behavior. I have no quarrel with you, I should simply like to keep my husband on his toes, you understand. Graeme is a kind soul, but he sees friends where there are enemies and I shouldn't like for him to be duped into an alliance that would drag Strathclyde's good name through the mud, you see?" she told him. Merlin's frown only intensified.

"That is… very well, my lady, but why are you telling me all of this?" he asked. She turned away from him then to survey the room, her arms held elegantly behind her back.

"And please have your physician send up my husband's salve? I was told that would all be taken care of,"Sofia told him with an air of finality. Merlin took that as an admission to leave.

####

He trudged into Gaius's work room just as night fell and all of the guests had been sorted. The castle was as lively as ever, though, and servants were still bustling about trying to make sure that all the nobles' accommodations were up to snuff. Merlin, boasting slight seniority, had been allowed to supervise much of it though he was still forced to help with most of the luggage. He hadn't seen Arthur since earlier that morning, but he had met Sir Leon in the hall. The knight seemed on edge, but then Leon was never one for these sorts of formal gatherings.

"I can't go to the feast tonight," Merlin whined as he took a seat on one of the stools.

"I'm afraid there's really no way out of it," Gaius said. The older man was flipping through books like a mad man, clearly looking for something. He sounded as though he were not terribly interested in hearing Merlin whine, which was a real shame because Merlin was in the mood to be pitied, or in the very least listened to.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Yes, it seems that King Mendanbar didn't take very well to my salve. Had some sort of allergic reaction to it. Broke out in a spot of hives," Gaius said. "I need to remedy that as well as come up with a salve that will actually do its job." Anger had already inched into the physician's voice, so Merlin decided against both whining and informing the man of the king's odd wife. At least he would postpone it until after the feast when they could both retire.

"Ah, alright. I suppose I'll just get dressed for the dinner then," Merlin said a bit huffily. He went into his room to rustle through his clothes. The last time he had been to a feast of this prestige, he had been forced into a ridiculously flamboyant hat and tunic. He had been worried that would once again be called on this evening, but fortunately Arthur hadn't mentioned it. He took that to mean any of his better threads would accommodate the evening.

As he was changing, Gwen popped in.

"Oh I'm sorry, Merlin!" she said, apologetically averting her gaze. Blushing slightly, Merlin turned to her.

"Just a moment. I only say this because I'd rather your eyeballs not take it upon themselves to bleed out for fear of worse injury," he said self deprecatingly as he threw a tunic over his head. A muffled giggle reached his ears. "Alright, it's safe to look."

"Arthur sent me in to tell you he couldn't… find it? He said you'd know what that meant. What did he mean, Merlin?" she asked.

"Oh nothing, don't worry about it, Gwen." He shrugged on a dark brown jacket, one that was a bit more tailored than his usual attire.

"You two have been so secretive of late! You know how I hate that," Gwen said.

"I know. But we can't - ah, I can't," Merlin started, before a rather vindictive idea popped into his head. "Gwen, it's about you. Arthur's been after well, a surprise for you -"

"A surprise?" she said suspiciously. Hands on her hips, Merlin felt certain she wouldn't believe him. "What sort of surprise?"

"I can't tell you that, can I? Otherwise it won't be a bloody surprise! Listen, I've really got to get to the feast. Otherwise Arthur will think I'm shirking my duties again," Merlin insisted. She was still looking at him with narrowed eyes, but she let him pass.

Rather proud of himself for the lie, he slipped out of Gaius's work room. The physician was still hunched over a boiling cauldron and looking stressed as ever. Merlin felt for the man, but at the moment he was unable to provide any help. He had to get back upstairs as quickly as he could. As he made his way down the corridor toward the hall where the feast was being held, he thought he saw Morgana hurrying in the opposite direction. Something about the manner in which she was carrying herself put Merlin on edge. Something was going to happen tonight, he felt sure of it.

As he entered the hall, which was laden with the most succulent meats and vegetables you could imagine, he was quickly handed a pitcher by one of the servers. He thought the man's name was William. He supposed that meant he was not going to get to sit down and enjoy any of the food. Pitcher of wine in hand, he edged down toward where Arthur was seated next to Sir Martin. Merlin refilled the prince's glass, pointedly smirking at him for his undesirable neighbor. Arthur ignored this and took a swallow from his freshly filled goblet.

"Nothing then?" he whispered into Arthur's ear. The prince shook his head. The second course of food came out then, and Merlin was forced to take a step back so that the servants could begin ladling the food onto plates.

Merlin's ears pricked as he picked up on King Uther's conversation with Duke Laurence of Callai. They were speaking of an encroaching war with the Vaudran kingdom. The Duke was known for his own short temper, so it was no wonder he and Uther had suddenly decided to get on.

"One of my scout's was speaking of a weapon that the Vaudran king had recently acquired. I daresay he won't be afraid to use it," Laurence assured Uther.

"Yes, but I'd really like to know what he has up his sleeve. Going in blind would be irresponsible," Uther asserted.

They argued back and forth like this before King Mendanbar broke in. The man's face was rouge colored and quite puffy around the right side of his face and neck. Merlin supposed he must have applied the salve to a shoulder wound, he was fairly surprised that the King had been able to make it at all. He secretly wondered if Queen Sofia might have had something to do with it. She seemed distinctly unimpressed by her husband's diplomacy skills, or rather, the lack thereof. Gaius didn't make mistakes like this. Though he supposed it wasn't Gaius's fault if he simply didn't know the King was allergic to a particular herb.

"It sounds to me as though you two are excited for the prospect of some unknown danger. All of this is just hearsay -" Graeme started.

"No it isn't, though. Did you not hear of Kellan's Landing? My entire port was felled by a sickness. It singled out the children and burned them from the inside out," Laurence said.

"And you think that had something to do with Vaudran? Why would King Raynart single out only one town and only the children at that?" Queen Sofia asked skeptically.

Merlin listened to the conversation with a mixture of interest and fear. He and Arthur were perhaps too concerned with the internal matters of Camelot. He had no idea of what had befallen Kellan's Landing. Though it wasn't exactly unusual for a town to succumb to sickness. And it was a port city. It was perfectly logical that it might have spread from one of the ships or even from the sea itself.

The conversation quickly turned into an argument though, Laurence's face turning an angry purple as he and the Mendanbars went back and forth.

"Your wife's tongue is silver, I'll grant you that Graeme, but she should learn when to hold it," Laurence spat. Even Uther seemed to think that was a bit out of turn.

"Laurence, I think you may want to switch to water, as you have forgotten your manners," he said.

"No, Uther, I would rather him speak his mind. Would you rather us attack King Raynart? Go to war and lose countless lives based on a rumor?" Sofia said.

"No, but we ought to do more digging. Send in scouts, search parties, whatever it took to be certain," Laurence insisted, growing more frustrated and purple faced by the second. Sweat was billowing from his pores, and Merlin didn't wonder if the Duke was going to be sick.

"But then we would risk capture and angering Vaudran into declaring war on us. Strathclyde, Camelot, and Callai are no match for the half a dozen kingdoms which Raynart has on his side should war be struck, Laurence," Sofia said calmly. Laurence, on the other hand, was nonplussed and showed it by downing another gulp of wine. After loosening his collar, he fanned himself irritably as he tried to think of a counter.

"So you suggest we do nothing?" Uther rebuked.

"Not nothing, but whatever we do I suggest it be discreet. Find out where this so called children's plague originated first, rebuff the criminal activity within our own kingdom. Criminals, I've found, make wonderful troves of information," Sofia answered, before frowning at her husband. Welts had suddenly appeared upon the man's face and it looked as though he were having trouble breathing.

Screams from some of the noblewomen rung in Merlin's ears before what was happening to Graeme even registered. The welts resembled purple bee stings and they were growing all over the man's face. Moans of pain were all that could escape his mouth as the abscesses seemed to be contingent to every place which air touched the man's skin. The first one burst and a steaming yellow puss escaped and dribbled down his front, forcing everyone who was nearby trying to help him to take several steps back.

"Merlin! Get over here and take the Duke to Gaius," Uther demanded. "You two, help him!" Two of the guards rushed over to the Duke, grabbing him under the arms. Merlin led the way down.

"No, I'm coming with!" Sofia shouted hysterically, her face no longer terribly composed.

"Sofia, no you will not. We don't know if it's contagious, now let go of your husband," Uther said, grasping Sofia's arm firmly.

Whatever other words she may have said were lost on Merlin's ears as he scrambled to lead the two guards and King Graeme back down to Gaius's chambers. The corridors cleared themselves as everyone got a look at what was happening to the King. The welts were still growing and bursting and Merlin's heart was racing as he prayed that Gaius would know how to fix it. The reaction to the salve could not be what was causing this, it couldn't be - if it was, Merlin didn't think Sofia would allow Gaius to get away with it. His heart raced as they clambered down the stairs.

Once they got in, the guards placed Graeme on a cot.

"What happened?" Gaius said.

"I don't know, they just… welts grew - all over. Gaius, quickly I think his esophagus is closing up," Merlin stuttered. Gaius shooed the guards out of the way so that he could study the King. "Is it a reaction to the salve?"

"I don't know. I saw the hives he got, it could be a latent reaction - but quickly, give me that bottle," Gaius said. Merlin obediently handed him a bottle with a pink solution inside, which he poured down Graeme's throat. The inflamed welts cleared quickly, but as soon as the solution drained down into his stomach, they seemed to grow all over again.

"Magic?" Merlin whispered.

"You tell me," Gaius said. Merlin hovered over Graeme, though he already knew the answer to his own question. It wasn't magic, it was herbal. And if it was herbal, Gaius ought to be able to fix it. Or, he supposed, he could. As soon as he decided to try something on his own, though, the door to Gaius's chambers swung open and Arthur and several men came in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gaius said.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said "Arrest him." Two of his knights promptly grabbed Gaius around his elbows and marched him out with not so much of as a word. Merlin tried to hold them back, but was shoved into the table on the other side of the room. Arthur hung back for only a moment.

"Arthur, what the hell!" Merlin said.

"Sorcery, the usual. Just - just fix him, alright? Gaius will be fine. You'll make sure of it," Arthur said resignedly.

"But Arthur!"

"Merlin! Not now!" Arthur shouted, "Fix him!"

##

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Also I'm going to warn you that I'll be adding an OC love interest for Merlin later. I know a lot of readers dislike that but honestly? The only other viable option would be Morgana and… that wouldn't really work for what I'm doing, and I apologize (cause I actually do love me some MerMor). Just telling you so you can get out now if you have an aversion to OC's, though I promise I'm not that bad with them, or so I've been told. Besides that it certainly won't revolve around romance.

I'd appreciate thoughts/criticisms/suggestions. I like to know what you guys think/would like to see in future chapters. Thank you so much for reading!