And the final chapter! Shorter than the rest; 3,714 words, back to PG-13~

There is also a “glossary” (if my butchering of the language can be called such) of the Gaelic I used at the end. But it might be better if you just ignore it, and assume the phrases all make sense like I do on the show. XD;



A Chuisle: Chapter 5 (End)

They walked through the gates of Camelot two days later and were greeted at swordpoint in the falling dusk. Merlin was shackled and dragged behind Arthur and the guards that flanked him; they both knew that Arthur was in almost as much trouble as Merlin, though no one would dare shackle the crown prince. He’d given the hunting party the slip, after all, and defied his father in setting out alone.

When they arrived in the great hall Uther immediately sat erect in his chair, his eyes flashing with something that could have been anger or relief. He dismissed the financial advisor with whom he’d been speaking, and gestured for the doors of the hall to be closed. They swung shut with a loud, heavy sound that felt to Merlin almost like a physical blow. He’d barely had time to wince before Arthur had stalked up to his father, having left the guards and Merlin behind in the middle of the room.

“Arthur –”

“Let me speak, Father.”

Uther seemed taken aback by Arthur’s tone – at once commanding and sure of itself, every inch the prince that he was. The king’s mouth tightened, his lips thinning as he pressed them together, but after a moment of tense silence, he nodded.

“I have information that you must hear,” Arthur said, and paused to glance back at Merlin before he went on. His face was calm, composed, but his eyes were burning brightly and the heartbeat in Merlin’s chest was frantic. “The witch Nimueh is dead.”

Uther’s mouth opened. “What? How have you come by this information?”

Arthur looked again to Merlin – a longer, more intentional look – before turning back to his father and saying, “Merlin has killed her, and in doing so saved my life. You remember when I was injured by the questing beast.” Merlin had told Arthur the full story only yesterday – Arthur had wanted to know every detail, every possible useful morsel that could be used to convince Uther that Merlin had more than proven himself to the kingdom. “He sought her out; they battled, and she was killed.”

Uther was looking at Merlin now, his face still hard although he wanted, Merlin hoped, to believe what Arthur said. “Is this true?” he asked, taking swift steps over to where Merlin stood, flanked still by the guards. “Are you lying or deceiving my son? I want the truth.” His hand came up, grasping Merlin by the chin.

Behind him, Arthur took a step, but stopped himself. He was watching Merlin – he could see the prince’s eyes on him just past Uther’s shoulder.

“It’s true,” Merlin said, as strongly as he could with Uther’s fingers at his jaw. “I swear to you, my lord, it’s true. I killed her, to save your son.” It was best, he and Arthur had agreed, to leave Gaius out of this. Merlin had told the prince the least he could of Gaius’ involvement with Nimueh, and although part of him still felt that perhaps it had not been his secret to tell, he knew without a doubt that Arthur would not tell another soul. He had sworn as much, and the prince was a man of his word.

Uther stood in silence for a moment, his eyes boring into Merlin’s as though he could determine the truth of his words by them. Finally he stepped back, turning Merlin’s head aside as he withdrew his fingers. “It could all be an enchantment – sorcerers are nothing if not good with their words.” He turned to Arthur then, to ask his son, “And even if he speaks the truth, what am I supposed to do with it? Am I to trust him when he’s shown himself to be more powerful than this kingdom’s worst enemy? Am I to trust him with my life and yours, with Morgana’s and with the whole of my kingdom?”

“He has my trust,” Arthur said steadily. “I am under no enchantment, Father – the only spell I have ever been under is the one that keeps my heart beating even now. Surely even you can see that act for what it is. Merlin has proven himself to me, many times over. Can’t that be enough for you?”

Uther’s jaw tightened. “You know it cannot. You haven’t seen what magic has done to this kingdom, Arthur –”

“And you refuse to see what it’s done for it! Magic is a weapon, Father – like the sword at your side,” Arthur said with a sweep of his arm. “How you choose to use it is the measure of the man that you are.” He paused, taking a step forward. “I ask only that you judge Merlin by the same standards as you judge yourself. He is a man, Father, a man like you and I, and he should be rewarded for what he’s done, not punished. I remained silent once when I should not have.” Arthur stood a little straighter. “I cannot do so again.”

Even if he’d had something to add, Merlin wasn’t sure he could have gotten his mouth to work just then. He hadn’t been sure what to expect of this meeting, but he could never have expected this – Arthur had veritably dressed down his father, and all for Merlin’s sake. The warlock bit his lip, not wanting to break into the stupid grin that he felt threatening his lips at a time like this. But his stomach was warm and pleasant-feeling, although Arthur was watching his father now as Merlin glanced over at him.

The silence in the great hall stretched on as Uther stood, looking carefully at his son as though taking the measure of him. Then his gaze turned to Merlin, and a split second before he spoke Merlin saw the sadness there, even as Uther began to shake his head. “I cannot change my judgment.”

“Father!” Arthur took a step towards Merlin now. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said?”

Merlin could see that Uther looked visibly pained. “I must uphold the law.”

“You are the king! Change the law!”

“I will not change the law at the whims of my son!”

“Then change it for the good of the man who’s saved him!” Arthur shouted, hands curling into fists. “I’m not asking you to abolish your laws! But why not bend them? A king has to be flexible, you’ve told me that yourself many times.”

“But he must also be resolute. You’re asking me to allow this walking weapon –”

“Merlin is not a weapon, Father.”

“But I cannot disarm him,” Uther said, spreading his arms. “You can take away a man’s sword, Arthur. You can’t take a sorcerer’s magic.”

“But he can choose not to use it,” Merlin said, breaking into the argument almost before he’d realized he was speaking. Two heads turned toward him, two sets of eyes watching his face as he went on. “I know you see me as a weapon, sire,” he said quietly, bowing his head for a moment before he raised it once more, “but I’m not. I’m just a man, as Prince Arthur says, and maybe I can do things that you cannot, but I just want to live my life. Nothing more.”

Silence followed his words, so that Merlin could once again hear the pounding if his – and Arthur’s – heart in his ears. Uther was taking deep breaths, his features turned inward, unhappy. Arthur was standing still and tensed, as though he’d rather be pacing. But now he was looking at Merlin, and there was something like hope in his face.

“Father,” Arthur said, gently this time, “Merlin is a good man. I trust him with my life and the safety of Camelot. He is my friend. This is the right thing to do.”

Uther’s jaw worked as he looked at his son. His eyes were dark, and for a long time no one spoke. Merlin hardly dared to breathe; even the guards flanking him did not stir. Then, finally, Uther said, “I cannot just let you walk free.”

Merlin nodded. “I understand.” And he did, but if he was to be confined to the dungeons again, then he knew that he would have to –

“But my son is right. I cannot ignore the truth before my eyes.”

Merlin looked up, and he saw that some of the hardness had gone from Uther’s face – just the tiniest fraction, but it was enough to make his heart leap at what it might mean.

Uther sighed. “A… compromise, then, in the law. Just this once.” He looked to Arthur, then back to Merlin. “But you must understand, this is my final judgment.” When neither of them protested, he continued. “You will not be confined to the dungeon, Merlin – but you must remain within Camelot’s walls. You are not to be permitted to leave the castle.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched a little at that, but then he nodded – the castle was big, and it was not his freedom, but it was not the dungeon. It might still feel like imprisonment, and that may very well be what it was, but it was a step in the right direction, he knew. He could feel Arthur watching him closely as Uther went on.

“Furthermore,” the king said, still watching Merlin’s face, “you will officially apprentice yourself to Gaius. I wish your mind to be put to useful things, and the healing of others is the noblest way in which I believe your time can be spent.”

That… wasn’t so bad, Merlin thought, and nodded again, a little more vigorously. “Yes, my lord – I understand.” He didn’t mind becoming a physician, he thought – it was much the same as magic, Gaius had told him so many times in the past. It was putting things together in the right combinations to produce a result, but with herbs and compounds instead of words. Merlin had already studied a little from Gaius’ books. If occupying his mind with medicine could help to put Uther’s fears at ease, then Merlin would do this, and gladly. How could he argue? It was not the dungeons, and he wouldn’t have to escape from the kingdom after all. He could still see Gaius and Gwen and Morgana. He could still see Arthur.

And now, Uther turned to his son. “Does this satisfy you as well?” The tone of his voice implied that he wasn’t really asking the prince’s opinion, but Arthur nodded nonetheless.

“Yes, Father.” Arthur paused. “But I have another request – a small thing. I would like for Merlin to remain my manservant,” Arthur said, and now the ghost of a smile could be seen upon his lips. “He knows how to do the job as well as he ever will, and I can keep a constant eye on him when he isn’t studying with Gaius.”

It was likely a gamble, Merlin knew – and one he hadn’t expected. He found himself staring at Arthur as the king considered this last request. But in the end, almost to his surprise, Uther relented with a nod. “I will allow this. But,” he said, and turned once more to look at Merlin, “you must not shirk either of these duties. And you will not be sent outside the castle walls.” It sounded like a warning to Arthur as much as to himself.

Merlin was biting his lip again, but he shook his head at Uther’s words. “No! No, my lord, I promise I will not.”

“Very well.” And Uther himself approached the guards; he took the key and released Merlin’s shackles, and stood looking down at the warlock. “I am putting my trust in you, Merlin, as my son has clearly done,” he said quietly. “Do not make me regret it.”

Merlin swallowed. “I won’t, my lord. I promise you.” He paused, then added, softly, “Thank you.”

Uther gave him the barest of nods before turning and striding back to his chair. It was a clear dismissal; the guards pulled the doors open and Merlin and Arthur walked out.

*

Their first stop was, of course, Gaius’ chambers. The old man was overjoyed at Merlin’s return; he let out an uncharacteristic whoop of joy as Merlin stepped through the door and was upon him in an instant, crushing him in a hug as Merlin supposed his own father might have done. He hugged his mentor back just as tightly, inhaling Gaius’ scent of herbs and soap and beginning to feel like he might truly be home.

Arthur just stood to the side, his arms crossed and a satisfied smile on his lips. Gaius immediately sat Merlin down before the fire and handed him a bowl of cooling stew; he handed one to Arthur as well and then proceeded to grill both boys until they had told him the whole of their tale. He watched both Merlin and Arthur as they took turns recounting their story, and nodded when they had finished.

“A well-argued case,” he said quietly, considering the outcome as he watched Merlin finish the last of his stew. “I’m proud of you both.” He looked to the both of them, a smile on his face. “Now, I suppose the Lady Morgana and Gwen would both like to see your faces, as well.” His smile widened. “Go on, the two of you. But, my lord,” he said as he looked up at Arthur, and something silent seemed to pass between them, “please make sure to let Merlin retire early.” He glanced at his new apprentice. “We’ll begin your lessons in earnest in the morning.”

Arthur nodded; Merlin barely had time to put his spoon down before the prince had veritably dragged him out, leading him down the corridor. They stopped at Morgana’s chambers – Gwen had been preparing to leave for the evening and both women, as Gaius had said, were overjoyed to see them both home. Gwen scooped Merlin into a warm hug and kissed his cheek; she beamed at Arthur as he explained to Morgana the decision that Uther had made. Morgana’s face was tight and serious, but she gave them both a red-lipped smile when Arthur had finished.

“It’s still imprisonment,” she said quietly, looking at Merlin.

He nodded, shuffling his feet a little. “I know, my lady – but I also know that the king cannot be expected to change his views overnight.” He paused, remembering what Gwen had told him in the forest that first morning after he’d been rescued. It seemed so long ago, now. “But I thank you for all that you’ve said in my defense.” He looked to both of them now, Gwen and Morgana, standing before him. “And I thank you for rescuing me.”

He could sense Arthur’s discomfort beside him, though he didn’t look at the prince.

“It was the right thing to do,” Morgana said, and looked between Merlin and Arthur for a moment. Then she smiled again, this time wider and more honestly. “And I’m glad you’ve finally made amends.” She was looking at Arthur now, who only nodded before he turned toward the door.

“Well, Merlin has had a long day, and we’ve both had a long journey. We should bid you both goodnight.”

There was another hug from Gwen, a warm smile from Morgana, and Merlin was whisked away again, barely registering the turns and steps until they had arrived in Arthur’s room. The fire was low, banked in the prince’s long absence, but never extinguished.

Arthur himself went to the grate and put a fresh log atop the remains of the old one, stoking it with the iron poker until the flames caught and grew. Merlin stood near the door, feeling dizzy with fatigue, or perhaps it was just from the intensity of the day’s events. His body felt faraway and heavy, and his mind had begun to buzz. He didn’t know why Arthur had brought him back here – not to build the fire, but perhaps to still help him dress for bed before he was dismissed for the night. He was, he thought with a strange, warm feeling, still Arthur’s manservant, after all.

Satisfied that the fire was burning properly once more, Arthur turned and straightened, his face a dark shadow and his outline glowing orange in the growing, flickering light. His darkened face was hard to read, but Merlin thought he might be smiling.

“Well,” Arthur said, and his voice was warm, “let’s get you into bed, then. Normally I’d ask that you wash first, but I’ll just have you change the bedclothes in the morning. I’m too tired for a proper bath, myself.”

Merlin stood, blinking dumbly. “… What?” He was confused, his mind making assumptions at the prince’s words that couldn’t possibly be right.

“It’s this way,” Arthur said, his voice light and amused, as he took Merlin by the elbow and steered him into the bedroom. “I suppose it has been a while, and maybe you’ve forgotten.” They stopped before the bed, made up with cream and crimson bedclothes, the finest in the kingdom. Merlin looked up, and Arthur simply said, “I was told to make sure you get your rest, and even I am not about to ignore Gaius’ orders.”

But Merlin was still confused. “Sire?”

Arthur shook his head. “Just Arthur, right now,” he said, and his voice was soft and gentle; it made Merlin feel warm just to hear it. “I’m not your prince tonight, Merlin. I’m your friend.”

“You said so, to your father,” Merlin murmured, his mind slowly trying to pick up the pieces of the puzzle and put them together into a picture he could understand. Arthur had confessed to… something, back there in their makeshift cave, but ever since then Merlin hadn’t been sure whether he ought to believe it or let it pass, whether Arthur would pretend the whole thing had never happened. He hadn’t been sure how much to think about it at all, with the possibility that he’d still have to flee hanging over his head.

But now things had been settled. And Merlin was to stay in Camelot.

“And I meant it,” Arthur said, and his hands were at Merlin’s shirtsleeves, tugging at them gently as he worked to undress his manservant in a complete reversal of roles. Merlin was too confused, too hopeful, too tired to even protest.

The prince undressed his servant slowly, with care, redressing him in a pair of his own nightclothes, far too big. Arthur chuckled as he had to tuck in and roll the waistband of the breeches just to get them to stay up, and then he stood and pulled back the covers of the bed. “Now get in, you lummox,” he said softly. “You need your sleep.”

Merlin looked into the prince’s face then, and saw nothing but warmth and sincerity. It was a look he’d only seen in Arthur once before, that day in the woods when he’d said simply, ”I know.”

He slid into the prince’s bed, and it was like sliding into heaven. He’d never lain on a real featherbed before, despite the fact that he’d helped Arthur into it almost every night before his imprisonment. He couldn’t ever have imagined the softness beneath his back, the gentle, smooth slide of the sheets and the warmth of the coverlet as Arthur pulled it over him. He lay, fighting sleep as Arthur undressed himself and pulled on another set of nightclothes, then lifted the covers just enough to slide into the bed beside Merlin. His warmth flooded the space between the sheets and no, Merlin thought, it hadn’t felt like heaven before after all – but it certainly did now.

Arthur settled beside him, looking up at the ceiling in the dark, broken only by the soft orange flickering of the fire in the other room. “Don’t think I’m going to make a habit of this,” he said, in a way that indicated that he meant no such thing at all. It made something warm and content curl deep in Merlin’s belly, as though he’d finally been accepted back into a place that he had never wanted to leave.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, turning to look at Arthur’s profile in the dim firelight. “My lord – Arthur, truly. Thank you.”

The prince turned to look at him, blue eyes looking black in the night, and his face was once more the open, hopeful face that Merlin had seen in the woods. “No, Merlin.” He paused, and his voice became softer and more sure of itself all at once. “I never really thanked you. It’s you who’s made it possible for me to be here right now, and I will never, ever forget that, as long as I live.”

His hand came up to touch Merlin’s cheek in the dark, feeling large and warm against the skin there. Merlin smiled, skin sliding beneath Arthur’s fingertips, and he didn’t think twice as Arthur leaned forward to brush their lips together in a gentle kiss. Merlin simply leaned into the touch and returned it.

When Arthur pulled back, eyes open and searching Merlin’s face as though the reciprocation hadn’t been enough, the warlock’s smile softened. “Arthur,” he said quietly, and shifted closer beneath the covers, “those nights, when I woke – when I felt what you felt… all I ever thought about was you.” And it was true – whether Arthur had haunted his dreams or his frantic, release-driven thoughts, it had always and only been Arthur.

He could see the prince’s smile, even in the dark, and one arm looped around his stomach and pulled him closer. “Get some sleep,” the prince said, and Merlin smiled as he laid his head upon the prince’s chest. He could hear Arthur’s heart beating, perfectly in time with his own, as it would for always and forevermore. He closed his eyes.

“A chuisle,” Merlin murmured. “Is tú mo ghrá.” And the words came as easily as breathing.

Arthur shifted, and asked, quietly, “What’s that you’re saying? Another spell?” He didn’t seem concerned.

But Merlin only shook his head in the small space beneath Arthur’s chin, and smiled wider. “No, not a spell. I said, I love you.”

“Hm,” Arthur hummed, and Merlin could feel it in his chest. The arm around him tightened. “Took you long enough.”



The End


-


And now the “translations” of my probably horribly-butchered Gaelic. XD;

First, a couple of phrases I got from this nifty website:

A chuisle – my heart, my pulse; my love, my darling
Is tú mo ghrá – I love you
Anamchara – soulmate, soul advisor, soul-friend
Mo chroi – my love

For the rest, I used this online dictionary. In horribly rough terms:

In éadan an bhalla – into a wall
Liathróid teacht chun solais – ball come to light
Téigh as – blow out

I’m not sure how the syntax of the language works, so while I tried to make it make sense, I’m betting in places it probably really doesn’t. Again, major apologies to anyone who actually speaks Gaelic. I’m sure it was painful for you to read. I tried. ;_;