Chapter Text
~*~
“…to discuss the territory of Gedref with Princess Mithian of Nemeth,” Arthur said. It was probably just as well that he’d actually practiced saying this speech this morning. He managed to get the words out even whilst his throat closed up. He could practically see ‘marriage negotiations’ crossing everyone’s minds as he spoke. “We have many tariffs, trade routes, and other benefits up for negotiation, as well as word of arms and goods. The Hunt and Feast of Ostara will not be interrupted.”
Later, Arthur was completely unsurprised to see Agravaine and two councilors sidle up to him during the precursor to the council meeting. His uncle said, “You can secure the land by marrying her.”
“I’m already betrothed to someone else,” Arthur said. “And, we don’t need the land that badly. There are many other benefits to be gained if we give it away.” He paused. “I’m hoping for an alliance that will guarantee us arms and soldiers the next time we go to war.”
“You expect us to be going to war? With who?” Agravaine asked.
“…I don’t know,” Arthur said carefully. “But with all the attacks that have been happening against my Court, I know something is coming. And I want to be ready for it.”
Agravaine sighed as the councilors drifted away. “Do not discount it, and do not hang up all your hopes on a serving girl that you’ve hidden away somewhere. The Hunt of Ostara is coming up – why not make a present of whatever you slay?”
“I am not courting her, Agravaine,” Arthur said. “I’ve made my ideals clear to this court in that I am marrying someone who I care for and who will rule Camelot well – not someone who will bring me fleeting advantages and then become a decoration to my family tree.”
“You act as if the two are mutually exclusive,” Agravaine said. “At least try? Give her a nice present, perhaps take her out to the forest for any kind of solitary venture and talk. Try. Your father courted your mother immensely, and look at their legacy – a marriage of love that benefitted them politically.”
“My parents’ marriage was arranged,” Arthur said with a frown. “I mean, yes, they were lucky enough to fall in love afterwards, but-”
“And how do you think that happened?” Agravaine asked with an amused expression. “Despite the match, your father courted her. Irritated her at the start, but they grew on each other none the less.”
Agravaine reached out and laid a paternal hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur didn’t bother trying not to hate himself for leaning into the touch.
“I know you think your only choices are a happy marriage or a useful one, but Arthur – you can have both,” Agravaine said gently. “You will have to work for it, and perhaps the happiness will not be the same. But your parents managed it, and I am absolutely sure you can, too.”
“…thank you, Agravaine,” Arthur said, desperately wishing that were true. “I appreciate the support.”
With a pat to his shoulder and an avuncular smile, Agravaine headed off after the other councilors.
Arthur turned to see Leon waiting for him, and together they made their way up through the castle towards the residential floors.
For a few moments, they walked in silence. Then Leon broke it – shattered it with a grave and quiet tone that belied the man’s easy-going nature.
“Your sentimentality is going to get us all killed,” Leon said calmly when they reached an empty corridor.
“I’m not stupid,” Arthur said, facing heating up as he thought of how much Agravaine was manipulating him. “I know full well what Agravaine is trying to do-”
“And you’re still falling for it,” Leon said, looking at Arthur from the corner of his eye as his pace slowed considerably. “And quite frankly, he’s not the only one I’m talking about.”
“…Merlin,” Arthur sighed out, not even asking if that was who the man meant.
Leon nodded. “What are you going to do about him?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted, stopping completely. This corridor was more of a balcony, open windows overlooking the courtyard from several stories high. “At this point, we’re pretty much ignoring it, and not talking about it at all.”
“What do you talk about?”
“Lately? Nothing.”
“But he’s still your manservant,” Leon said in confusion. “How-”
“I’m not counting discussion of chores as ‘talking’, though I barely have to say anything to him about those, either.” Arthur leaned on the stone edge of the bottom of the window, and shook his head despairingly as he chuckled humorlessly. “He’s been the perfect servant, lately, doing all his chores on time, with barely a word, and staying out of sight as much as possible.” He paused. “And honestly? It’s driving me mad. He’s not even arguing with George over my food!”
“What if he’s putting something in your food?” Leon asked quietly. Arthur opened his mouth to retort but Leon cut him off. “No, sire, listen to me – please. I like Merlin, I really do. But we also liked Morgana and Agravaine and look how they turned out. And I’m not discounting everything he’s been through with us. I realize how much you trust Merlin. But at this point, we need to be prepared for the possibility that he might be a traitor, too.”
“If I have to prepare for him being yet another traitor, I will have to be prepared for the possibility of anybody and everybody being a traitor,” Arthur said.
“After Morgana and Agravaine? You should be,” Leon said. “And that includes me.”
Arthur sighed, and spared a moment to look out over the courtyard with far more attention than it really needed, right now.
“Leon…I’m tired. I can spend days fighting and months on war campaigns just fine, but this?” Arthur shook his head and pushed off the lip of the balcony, standing fully upright again. “If any of you – Merlin, Gwen, the knights – turn out to be a traitor, then…what’s the point of fighting? I’ll take it as a sign from the world at large that I’m not meant to be king.”
Leon’s eyes widened in alarm. “Arthur, you can’t just give up-”
“I wouldn’t be giving up, Leon, it would be conceding gracefully.” Arthur pursed his lips. “Besides, if Merlin turned out to be a traitor, I’m not even sure how many of the others would stay loyal to me.”
“If it helps any, I’ll always follow you,” Leon said. “Though I won’t blame you if, after all this talk of liars and traitors, it didn’t.”
“I trust you and believe you, Leon,” Arthur said diplomatically.
“…but I take it that it didn’t help?” Leon said sympathetically.
Arthur nodded. “I still appreciate it, though.”
Fighting back a sigh and turning on the balls of his feet, Arthur started down the corridor again. “Let’s go, eat our lunches and rest before afternoon training. We can deal with treachery later.”
“…of course, sire,” Leon said, following two steps behind him.
~*~
Arthur was largely unsurprised to see Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival waiting for him in his rooms. Percival was pacing as he said something, Elyan was making notes and sorting through small slips of parchment on the table, and Gwaine was slumped over, clutching an apparently-empty goblet as he read a single slip of parchment. Or stared at it, at least.
“I trust the river patrols went well?” Arthur asked as he sat down.
“Mostly,” Elyan said. “Two of the dams should be replaced, and one of them could use some guards during the spring thaw – no bandits or group attacks likely, but some of the gaps seem to suggest smugglers.”
Arthur frowned. “Is it those blasted frankincense smugglers?”
“No,” Percival said. “I’m telling you, they’re taking the forest.”
“And I’m telling you that with all the bandits around, the forest is a stupid way to go,” Elyan said.
Elyan and Percival kept going back and forth about potential smuggling paths, while Gwaine just sighed, set his goblet to the side, and took over the task of sorting out the slips of parchment, notes on different river-bends scattering the wooden surface as he kept moving them around and around.
It was…almost business as usual. It was stilted and much quieter, and Gwaine’s silence was like a festering wound, but it was something he knew.
And then there was a knock at the door.
A single, perfunctory knock, which was how Merlin announced himself these days, and when Arthur shouted, “Enter!” at the door, the knights all quieted as Merlin stepped in, a platter of fruits, meats, cheeses, and bread in one hand, with a wine pitcher in the other.
The room was dead silent as Merlin looked steadfastly at the floor while approaching the table, and set the knights’ half-lunch down, before quickly going over to the corners to collect Arthur’s laundry.
Arthur doubted he’d ever seem Merlin work so fast.
Merlin had collected everything in record time and was right back at the door to leave, turning back only once to glance at Arthur and the knights.
Arthur couldn’t hide his slight flinch when Merlin bowed his head in a manner befitting his station as he left.
He turned his own attention back to the knights, only to see Gwaine smirking at him.
“See, that, Princess? That right there? That’s why I know I’ll never have to choose between you two. You get like this if he so much as turns too respectful, then I don’t think anyone wants to see what you’d be like without him around at all. Nothing short of being a completely and total traitor to Camelot would make you get rid of him.”
“Yes, but which of them would have to be the traitor for that to happen?” Elyan asked, kind tone belying the bone-dry wit in a manner that made Arthur long for both their sisters.
“Would it matter?” Percival said, words humorous but eyes serious as he and Elyan took their seats. “Either one is about as likely.”
Arthur snorted at that. Unless Merlin wasn’t who he seemed at all, then that was pretty much true.
“Probably just as well,” Gwaine said to Arthur as he reached for the wine pitcher. “I’d hate to choose Merlin over you…” He didn’t life his head, just his gaze, as he looked Arthur dead in the eye. “But I will if I have to.”
“Funny,” Arthur said. “That doesn’t make me feel any better or worse than Leon promising to follow me if push comes to shove.”
“Are you surprised?” Percival asked.
“No,” Arthur said, before looking at Elyan. “What about you?”
Elyan froze, the faint traces of humor that had been struggling to come out dying under Arthur’s gaze. Then he leaned forward, chainmail clinking against the edge of the table as he pressed his elbows into the warm wood. He dragged his hands down his face before looking at Arthur and saying, “Gwen is the only family I have left. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. Even if I hate myself at the end of it.”
“That makes me feel a better than anything else I’ve heard so far,” Arthur admitted.
He turned to Percival, but before he could open his mouth to ask, the knight looked him dead-on and firmly said, “No.”
“‘No’?” Arthur asked in surprise.
“This is not a choice I will ever have to make for real,” Percival said. “And if I did? Everything would have changed so much that any decision I make beforehand would be pointless. Making a choice now would only serve to divide us and pick sides, and I refuse to do so.”
“Which means he has no idea,” Gwaine said derisively, fingers going white in their grip around the goblet.
“I don’t,” Percival agreed sharply, looking sidelong at Gwaine. “And I consider that a good thing.”
“You consider it a good thing that you don’t know where your loyalties lie?” Gwaine asked harshly.
“I know exactly where my loyalties lie!” Percival snapped. Arthur jerked back and stared with saucer-wide eyes. He didn't even know the man was capable of a voice that sharp. “When I knelt to become a knight, I was kneeling before Arthur and Merlin and Gwen. We knelt to the three of them together – and to each other!”
Percival turned in his seat to glare at Gwaine, who did not look at Percival any higher than the man’s gargantuan shoulder.
“I’m not picking any sides now because I already picked a side back then. I knelt for Camelot, and for us. Together.
The knight stood up, startling the three of them when his chair scraped back and nearly toppled over in the process. He loomed over the three of them as he looked down at Gwaine, who in turned looked up at him, breathless in the face of the cold anger emanating from the largest knight.
“Do not tell me to pick a false loyalty just because you have already forgotten your real one.”
Percival moved and pushed his chair in, the scrape of wood against stone a deafening sound in their stunned silence. He nodded at Arthur in perfunctory respect that was about as painful to take as Merlin’s silence, then he strode out of the room.
The gentle thud of the door closing carefully was worse than if he’d slammed it shut with the full force of his strength.
“…so that’s what an angry Percival looks like,” Gwaine drawled as he reached out for the pitcher. Arthur would have bought the casual tone if it hadn’t been for the devastation in the man’s eyes and how his hand shook so much that he lifted up the pitcher and promptly had to set it back down.
Arthur took two goblets sitting on the edge of the table and poured wine for all three of them. He, at least, really needed it.
They all did.
~*~