the lady of the lake
August 30, 1576
Arthur doesn’t see Merlin or Gwen all summer.
He didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye. A letter from his father had come on the last week of school, a letter which was titled urgent and ordered him to return to the royal palace immediately without delay. He remembers running to the Slytherin dungeons and then the library, the Great Hall, but Merlin was nowhere to be found.
Just as he’d finished packing his bags and was walking to the castle doors in the direction of Hogsmeade, he ran straight into someone. A boy, tall and lanky, out of breath and smelling faintly of pine trees. Merlin.
The Slytherin had given Arthur a piercing look, before saying,
“You’re leaving.”
“Mmhm. Something’s happened at the castle” Arthur had felt like he had something more to tell Merlin but couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was. His words often seemed inadequate to him, so he’d patted Merlin on the back awkwardly.
The Slytherin looked serious as he told Arthur,
“Write to me, and stay safe- you can’t let Uther See your magic, you know that right?”, Arthur nodded reluctantly, “And whatever happens, we’ll all see you for September the fifth. Alright? Arthur?”
After this rather rushed goodbye, Arthur had trudged down to Hogsmeade, where a carriage with the royal coat of arms on it was waiting. Waiting to take him back to the palace, the place that’s haunted for him since his mother’s death.
As soon as he arrived at Whitehall Palace, Arthur was bundled out of the carriage and into a dressing room, left there alone for about forty minutes, before a manservant entered and pulled him into some fine black clothes. He’d glanced at the colour of the fabric and instantly felt cold. Black could only mean one thing- someone’s died. It must be one of his brothers, Arthur guessed as he then waited outside his father’s royal offices. Most of royal life is waiting, and this fact is something he’d figured out before he was able to read.
When, finally, he’d heard his father’s unmistakable ‘Enter’, he’d opened the huge, heavy doors, and gone forward to bow before his father.
King Uther had rumbled in that oppressive voice of his,
“Well, enough of that, you can stand up. I suppose you are aware why you have been summoned here from that school?”
Arthur shook his head quickly- he finds it hard to speak to his father.
It’d been three years since his father last saw him. Three years and not even a pat on the back- not a ‘how are you’ or a handshake. Straight to business, of course.
“Hmm, not as sharp as I would hope… The reason you’re back in the palace is because your older brother, Edmund, has since passed on. He died last week.”
Arthur’s eyes widened- he hadn’t expected it to be Edmund. Out of all his brothers, Ed had always treated him the nicest, he’d given Arthur piggies backs and helped him with his terrible calligraphy. He was the only brother that had said goodbye to Arthur when he was sent away.
Arthur’s voice came out hoarse as he said,
“Ed- Edmund? What, I mean, h-how did he die?”
King Uther waved a hand as if this was insignificant information, responding,
“Jousting accident- fell off his horse wrong. Anyway, the reason I called you in here was to tell you the order of proceedings. Firstly- you are here to attend the funeral, of course. It is imperative that we present a united family front, imperative, you hear?”, Arthur nodded rapidly and Uther continued, “Secondly- you have gone up in the chances of succession, not that it’s likely you will ever be king, of course. But, due to circumstances, you will be spending this summer in princely training along with your brothers.”
Arthur had dared to speak at this point, asking timidly,
“But, I’ll get to go back to school in September, right? September the fifth?”
Uther looked sternly down at his youngest son, before nodding,
“Yes, you will be returning to school. Understand that the proceedings this summer are only due to circumstances and for appearance’s sake. Meanwhile, you must behave in a princely manner while you are here. No slip ups and, most importantly, no ‘dreams’. Do you understand?”
“Yes Father, I understand.”
*
This is how Arthur spends his whole summer: bored out of his mind. His other brothers only talk to him if it’s to ridicule, and the friendship of courtiers’ children comes with the price of everything he does being reported back to their parents. At night he is troubled by dreams, mostly of his dead mother. But he has been forbidden to mention these dreams- to anyone- so pretends, even to himself, that they aren’t real. Even while he sees his mother’s death-pale face every other night, sometimes silent and sometimes murmuring strange prophesies of the future.
His favourite thing to do, other than wallowing in bed, is to climb to the top of Southern Tower and look out at the fields of gold and green which spread over distant hills. From all the way up there he can almost imagine he sees Merlin and Gwen in the fields, eating pastries or playing blind man’s bluff.
Arthur often gets letters from Merlin, long letters of beautiful calligraphy and many, many, questions about his well being.
These letters from Merlin become increasingly panicked because Arthur doesn’t respond to them- he can’t, his father has forbidden it. When he first tried to send a letter a servant had seen and snitched to Uther, who forbade him from writing to ‘commoners’.
Arthur had tried everything- bribing a servant girl to sneak out the castle and deliver it, attempting to sneak out the castle himself, trying to charm a pigeon with a spell to deliver it for him. All of these attempts failed and Arthur grew more desperate, feeling trapped in the palace with its huge marble and gold rooms, whispering servants and long, lonely summer days.
In the end, Arthur decides to try communicate with Merlin via his dreams.
He’d managed to do this with Lance at school, without meaning to of course- he’d fallen asleep in the Gryffindor common room one night and somehow found himself in Lancelot’s dream. In this dream, Lance had been panicking about whether fairy dust comes from doxy eggs or wood sprites. Almost as soon as dream-Lancelot had decided which it was, visions of Professor Heathcliff sternly shaking her head at him would appear and he’d forget which one he had decided.
The morning after this strange event, Arthur had been brushing his teeth at the same time as Lance, and had told his friend- “Fair dust comes from billywhigs, Lance, not doxy eggs or wood sprites”. Lance had responded with- “Wow thanks mate! Wait… how do you-“ But Arthur was out of the bathroom by then and already on his way to the common room, chuckling to himself.
So. Arthur could enter people’s dreams sometimes.
He could either simply watch the dream, or he could choose to talk to the dreamer through it, although the second option took more concentration. He wasn’t sure how well it would work over long distances- he’s only tried it once from a distance and this was with Gwen in Ravenclaw tower for an experiment. Gwen, who’s marvellous at keeping secrets, is the only person who he’s told about the ‘Weird Arthur Dream Thing’, as she calls it.
Little did Arthur know, but this skill of his was actually an advanced form of Legilimency- mind magic- and only about 5 other Wix in the world could do it, all of them adults and powerful mages.
The next night, he lies in his fancy four poster bed and concentrates his mind. He thinks of golden fields, pale pink roses, a small cottage and a sleeping boy, waves of dark hair and a troubled expression on his face as he sleeps. Arthur feels his mind travelling towards this boy and lets himself be sucked into the dream- a feeling slightly like being apparated, but with a cold, calm sensation like that of swimming instead of the claustrophobic one of apparition.
And, suddenly, he is in Merlin’s dream. Everything is sort of transparent but Arthur knows where Merlin is dreaming of, nevertheless- it’s the beach by the Black Lake, mist faintly rising over the eerily still water, smooth pebbles under his feet.
But where is Merlin? Arthur glances around him, but the mist is far too thick to see even a metre in any direction.
Out of the mist he suddenly hears something- an unearthly voice, singing from somewhere in the lake. Peering closer, Arthur spots a silver object in the lake, the mist seeming to part around this shining thing. He walks, mesmerised, towards the lake, water lapping at his feet- from here he can identify the silver thing. It’s a sword, a skilfully-decorated sword studded with jewels, held up by a pale beautiful arm that seems to come from the lake. He forgets that this is a dream, forgets that he is supposed to be finding Merlin, and instead begins to wade into the lake, towards the sword and that voice-
The singing stops suddenly as a different voice shouts from the shore,
“No! No! Arthur!”
Arthur feels arms wrapping around him and pulling him back to land. He turns, gasping for breath as he realises with horror how the voice and the sword had captured him. Merlin is there, thank god Merlin is there- Arthur pulls his friend into a hug, saying,
“Oh my god, Merlin”
Merlin is clinging to him and muttering nonsense, some of which Arthur catches,
“The dream- you always drown- I have to- stand there watching- cannot move- but this time- not this time- what changed- what-“
Arthur remembers then why he’s here, and holds Merlin firmly by his shoulders, looking him over for a moment before speaking,
“Listen, Merlin. This is your dream but I’m not part of it, okay- I’m the real Arthur and I have this weird thing where I can enter people’s dreams, just go with it for now, okay?”- Merlin is shaking his head but Arthur chooses to continue- “even if you don’t believe me right now- I wouldn’t believe me either- I hope that you at least remember some of this when you wake up. It was the only way I could contact you, because my father has forbidden me from sending letters. It’s a long story but basically my brother died and my father hates me and the palace is full of people pretending to like me only because I’m a prince, and I’m so so tired Merlin.”
Here Arthur stops for a breath and Merlin tentatively puts his hand up to poke Arthur’s nose, saying
“Oh my Salazar, it is you.”
Arthur nods, before continuing his rambling explanation,
“Yeah it is me. I just realised that I came here meaning to tell you I’m all fine and instead I must seem like a bloody mess. But I want you to know that I’m still alive and I’m okay, all right? Father is letting me come back to Hogwarts, that’s what I was meaning to say. That I will see you on September the fifth, as I promised.” Arthur glances around him and notices that the dream is fading quickly, empty edges starting to appear, and so he ends, rushed,
“September the fifth, Merlin, and don’t worry about me!”
The prince wakes up gasping in the suffocating palace bed, sweat dripping on his forehead. That is probably the most of his magic he’s ever used in one go. But it had been worth it. Now, he sleeps.