Arthur's memories chose strange times to remind him of his past.

"Leon and I will be working on the potion, soon.", said Merlin. Merlin always kept Arthur informed. Right now, he was sitting on his lap and drawing, while Leon pointed at random pages in the tome. Merlin had spend the past hour or so, explaining to Leon what the plants inside entailed. "You will be back home." Arthur remembered himself stopping in his drawings and looking up at Merlin. He felt... yeah, what did he feel back then?
Arthur had looked away, while Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
Arthur closed his hands to a first around his pencil.
The drawing ... Arthur remembered it vividly: a little painting of a wizard who looked nothing like Merlin but was supposed to be him. He had no yellow colors because color was expensive, so he had written the name of the color over Merlin's eyes.

"Are you coming with me?" In hindsight, Merlin's gasp and the fear in his eyes made much more sense than they did back then.
Arthur didn't remember Merlin's reaction, since he had been staring at the parchment at the time, but he remembered Merlin's words. "I can't. You will have to go alone." He sounded pained. He wasn't lying.

Arthur cried.
It was one of the few moments that Arthur had allowed himself to cry. He was staring down at the parchment, while drops of water blurred his vision and the ink.
This memory was not a new one, actually. He had always remembered the parchment and the crying, but he could never make out the words. Instead, he would always hear his father talk to him and tell him to man up.

Merlin cursed under his breath and hugged Arthur tight. "I'm sorry. I really, really am sorry."
"I don't want you to leave."
Merlin had looked at Arthur then, held his face and shook his head. "I'm not, Arthur. I'm not. You are."
"But I don't want to leave."
Merlin hadn't said anything then. But Arthur knew Merlin enough to finally know what he had been thinking. 'I wish I didn't have to let you go.'

In Arthur's frozen state, he remembered this. He didn't know why, but he remembered it in clear detail now.

"Will I see you again?", Arthur had asked and Merlin had hugged him even more tight.
"Not even the gods could stop me."
They had stood there for a while, while Leon kept trying to pretend he were reading the tome. The thought of Leon looking so uncomfortable was funny now. Back then Arthur had found it insulting.
"I don't want to go back."
"I know." Because of course Merlin knew. Of course Merlin knew of the abuse, the trauma, the pain, the toxic masculinity, Arthur's insecurities, his fears, his weaknesses. Merlin knew it all.

Arthur had never been able to trust anyone. That's what Arthur had thought for a long time. But how stupid was that, really? He never once doubted Merlin. Never once thought of mistrusting him. Arthur had given him his kingdom. Arthur didn't question Merlin's life of crime. He excused his magic. He would excuse it, if Merlin murdered people, if he stole from Arthur, even if... even if he betrayed him.

Arthur felt his breath catch at that thought and he stared ahead against the tapestry, because what else was there to do? He couldn't move and couldn't speak, while Morgana was out there, getting her own child self defiled by that monster out there.
He didn't want to think about that.

And Merlin was always safe. In his mind and in his heart. Even when he considered that Merlin may hurt him, he knew Merlin would have his reasons. Arthur had never trusted anyone in his life. That was a fucking lie. From the very beginning, there was Merlin. There was always Merlin. And Arthur gave him everything.
In this moment, as Arthur finally let that sink in, he felt something settle.

Morgana could get herself killed, but there would always be Merlin.
Arthur could die here, but there would always be Merlin.
Camelot could fall, but Merlin - Merlin would never die.
Merlin was magic. It didn't matter if magic was evil or not, Arthur would chose whatever side Merlin was on.
It was a terrifying thought. But it was also a relief. Arthur's life had been unhinged and unclear and confusing his entire life. This one simple thing wasn't. And it was the very foundation of his world.

It felt like Arthur had always been dangling from a rope, unsure if there was any ground below. And then there was Merlin and told him it was okay. Arthur could stand on Merlin's feet, until he were ready to take the first step.

So, Arthur closed his eyes and focused. Focused on his breathing, focused on Merlin.

His memories took him to the moment he had been searching for. Merlin and Leon standing around the cauldron. There were people around him, helping them put the ingredients in. Arthur was occupied grabbing at Gwaine's hair, while Merlin ordered the knights around.
It was calm, it seemed simple.

The liquid inside the cauldron was thick and blue. Qualm set above the heat. It must have been magical heat, because Merlin's eyes were still glowing and Arthur couldn't believe he had ever forgotten that sight.
And then, Merlin's eyes opened wide, his arms stretched out over the cauldron. The pages of the tome flipped in the wind, settling on nothing, as they became victims of the storm. And then...
It was strange. Arthur remembered a court yard. In front of himself he saw Morgana. For but a moment there was Morgana, staring at him and then.... the council reappeared. Arthur stared at Merlin. Merlin stared back. And there was horror in his eyes. It... didn't it work?
Arthur remembered the headache that came with the switch in time.
After that it was an in and out, in and out.
Perhaps he had lost consciousness after, he wasn't sure. He remembered little of what happened after.

Arthur blinked his eyes open, as someone started to huff. It was Merlin. The child Merlin. Arthur hadn't forgotten he was there, but it was hard enough to move his head, let alone open his mouth.
Arthur hadn't forgotten about Morgana and that they needed to stop her, but he also didn't know how. He had, in fact, no idea what to do. But grounding himself felt like a start. In fact, Arthur felt like what he had just done was the best thing he COULD have done.

"Can we get out now? This isn't fun." Merlin said this with childish annoyance. Then, without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his feet and waved his hands at Arthur and his mother. With a big hump, Arthur hit the ground.
Hard.

Hunith seemed to have much less of a problem with it. She glid down the air, like it was made to hold her. Or perhaps she knew this trick already. She was Merlin's mother after all.
Hunith didn't lose time. She picked Merlin up and yelled at Arthur. "Go GET HER! Stop her, for god's sake!"

Arthur didn't hesitate, he jumped to his feet. There wasn't even time to be surprised. Merlin was magic itself. Of course he would be able to get them out of that trap with just a thought.
Then he ran out the room and left Hunith and Merlin behind. The chances were high that Morgana had petrified her own parents to get her child self from their grip.
Arthur bit his lip, even though he knew he shouldn't while running.
Where would Morgana have gone with her child self? Where would Agravaine be, this time around?

Arthur should stop to think more often. He should have realised he was still in Camelot. Though he knew every corner, he didn't have a magical map that told him where everyone in here was at all times.
When he crossed a corner, he ran into Uther Pendragon. Arthur skidded to a halt. So did his heart and his limbs and for a moment and he wondered if Uther too, had managed to petrify him.

Uther Pendragon was just as frozen as Arthur himself. He was also just as quiet. Arthur shook his head. Before Uther could even open his mouth, Arthur opened his own: "I would love to talk, father, but my sister is about to get herself traumatised for LIFE. If you would excuse me -"

"Your what?"
Arthur stared the man down and blinked. Then he realised that not having time to chit chat meant he needed to move. So he shoved himself passed him. "Morgana." He yelled over his shoulder and hoped that got the message across.

He had entirely forgotten that Uther only knew her as "Marleen".

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POV: LEON - Before

Leon supposed there were worse hills to die on. Completely mad, talking to dragons, armor- and weaponless as he was, he simply let himself be guided to the center of the perilous lands. At least he would die with the illusion of sanity, he decided.

Leon didn't like to admit it, but he had never before entertained the idea that the perilous lands were a kingdom at all. That they COULD be ruled by a man of power and wealth, had simply been beyond his imagination. Perhaps the king had intended it that way.
Leon had presumed the Dragon Lords to be some kind of clan or a small group of people that had been small enough in population to be overlooked by the rest of the lands.

The trip towards the castle alone was enough to open his eyes to the truth. There were dozens of villages they passed through. Several of them richer and more beautiful than any town Leon had ever lived in.
It was nothing less than a shock to see people actually be happy and dancing with each other on the street. Trusting each other, not stealing each other's money or food, in order to survive.
Several times Leon wondered if perhaps he had died after all. This was certainly someone's idea of utopia and Leon had somehow stepped foot inside it.

Never the less, Leon's mind was mostly occupied with grief and mourning. The countrast was stark and ominous. Perhaps this was some form of punishment. Leon had lost what little family he had build up in the past few years and suddenly the world seemed worth living in. If that wasn't a cruel joke, he didn't know what was.
Now, his brother and best friend were lost. His purpose was gone. He should have died by the sword in a battle, if Bruta had ever sent him out to actually meet his maker.
Not that Leon blamed Bruta for his selfish little act of keeping Leon around. Leon guessed it had to do with Cornelius. Cornelius was, after all, one of the strongest and most gifted sorcerers this area had ever seen. Yet he was foolish and far too easily distracted. And he practised not nearly enough magic to earn the respect that Bruta so willingly gave him.

Well...
Leon stared upon the giant building in front of him with an open mouth and a sinking heart. Perhaps his opinion on Cornelius' abilities were slightly overrated after all. Cornelius magic may be grand and natural and all that, but it didn't hold a candle to the castle of the Dragon Lord king.
The castle was HUGE. And CLEARLY magical. Multiple towers reacher towards the sky, but none of them in a way that should be statistically possible. They reached up like a clawed hand with twisted fingers and a broken thumb.
The bricks were stapled upon one another without mortar to glue them together and if Leon wasn't completely insane, he could see them moving about. New hallways build themselves in the middle of the sky. Fingers stretched or reached out for one another to connect themselves.
It was madness.

"Are you coming?" Asked Kilgharrah. His voice was still a childish one. There was little of that riddling, better knowing, snearing old man that Leon would watch him grow into.
"What the hell is this place?"
Hearing it existed and actually seeing it were two completely different things. One was a concept, an idea that made sense. Much like a dream did, before you woke up and realised that in reality you didn't actually age backwards and could pull of your skin just to find armor underneath. Real life was where your brother and best friend had gotten their soul sucked out and weren't actually just made of solid gold.

"It's the castle of our king."
"Your king." Leon had known. He HAD known. Why was he surprised? Dragons worshipped a king.
"We call him the Fisher King.", said Kilgharrah.
Leon drew his brows into a narrow line. "FISHER King?", he asked a bit confuddled, not really expecting an answer.
"This kingdom mostly survives on fish and bread. We're not dependened on other kingdoms. All we need is here."
"And where exactly is HERE.", Leon asked, because he didn't know what else to ask.
"This is the heart of magic.", Kilgharrah said and let Leon let his eyes wander over the many new sights.
"Do you not have magic where you're from?" Then Kilgharrah laughed like a gleeful little child. "Wait until you see the gardens!

Lance nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line as he walked through a disturbingly normal looking row of plowed fields and farm land. The last crops had already been brought in, but the roads betrayed what they sowed. Some of the crops had fallen of their wagons and still littered the streets in wet puddles.
Leon didn't speak as he followed the dragon further down the path until cobble turned to hard stone and silence to mild chatter.
This close to the towers, they appeared even wilder. They were crooked in ways few buildings were, though Leon had heard of towers and buildings that had simply been constructed wrong. As far as he knew, none of them were safe living in.

If Cornelius were here, Leon thought, he'd be obsessed with the way the castle was constructed. And Bruta, Bruta would insist on riding around the nonexistent walls to make sure he knew every line of defense within the castle.
Whoever this king was, he did not seem to need a defense wall.

That was, Leon mused, perhaps thanks to the Sirens. Or the dragons. Or the magic. The overflowing magic of this place that was so tangible that even Leon could feel it.

The gardens, as Kilgharrah had promised, were indeed beautiful. The sight was more bittersweet to Leon though. On a different day, he may be inclined to linger there and stare at the golden light of fruits that hung from the strange trees. They too, looked unusual.
Leon found no good metaphor to describe them. It would be sad, if it weren't even sadder that he had no one to describe them to.
He found, however, that they looked suspiciously similar to the golden liquid that had run from the Siren's mouth. Perhaps that's what made him so wary of them.

Leon's attention was ripped from the garden, when he noticed Kilgharrah watching him curiously.
"You're not going to try and kill my king, are you?"
Leon opened his mouth, ready to assure him, but then he closed it. It had been Bruta's wish to establish peace with the Dragon Lords. But if Bruta was dead, then what was Leon's purpose now? Was it even worth it? Leon was not a person that the people in his country respected. Not in the way they had Bruta.
Leon was no king. Leon was just a boy from the streets who wanted him and his brother to survive. Now his brother was dead, thanks to the king he was now visiting.
It was the Fisher King who put the Sirens as their defense guards on that path. Who would be to blame, if not him?
Then again, Leon would have done the same thing, had he anyone left to defend and options like this.

"Are you?" The dragon's voice grew quiet and questioning. Kilgharrah was suddenly much less sure of Leon. Why he had been in the first place remained a riddle.

Leon slowly shook his head. "Killing him won't bring my friends back.", he said slowly and found that he meant it. There was no room for rage inside him. Leon was just... tired. Tired and so, so exhausted. He had lost what little he had to live for. He didn't know what to do with the rest of it.

"Okay then." The dragon seemed convinced.

So Leon followed, silently and tried to avoid the strange glances he got. The people in this kingdom were all of similar dark skin tones. The men wore their heads shaved at the sides and the women in long braids. Their eyes however, were of all kinds of colors. From brown and blue to orange and purple. They were of such startling brilliancy that Leon had to avert his eyes to not appear to be staring.
Leon wondered what they may think of him. If they thought him odd, the way he slouched, the way the sweat had made his hair damp and his little wash at the river had washed only little grime away. Did he look like a homeless to them? Did they pity him?
Did they perhaps know what happened at the camp?
Their clothes and eyes were so full of magical color, did they think him poor?

Leon shook of his insecurity. The dragon lead him here. Where were the other dragons? He hadn't seen any in this kingdom, beside Kilgharrah that is.
With that thought, Leon entered the castle and noticed how rough and dark the stone was. It could have been molted coal that someone formed into hard stone the way it was constructed. Leon put a hand on the stone to feel it, half thinking it would come away smudged from the material. Surprisingly, his hand remained clean.

"This way.", the dragon instructed and waddled before him in a random direction. Before him the wall opened and Leon guessed that the hallway behind it was constructed on their way through it. Despite that, the floor kept it's red carpet and the ceilig it's flowing chandeliers. Leon didn't say anything.

Before long, they finally reached their destination: The throne room.
The door to the room was wide and made of dark wood. If Leon were a carpenter, he may know what wood it was, but as it were, he had no idea other than: this looks sturdy.
The room opened to what looked like the room of a scribe. And in the room, chaos greeted them.
Towers of books hovered IN THE AIR, candles on top of them, while beneath them, a tall lanky figure cursed as he searched through a pile of paper that littered the ground.

Kilgharrah sounded entirely too cheerful as he greeted the man. "Hello, Joseph. I brought a visitor."

Leon blinked as the man swirled around.
He looked young. His skin was as toned as the one's outside. (1) And what's more... he looked familiar. It took Leon a moment to register where he knew that face from, but he had met this man not a day ago. Back then he had been entirely naked and literally sucking the soul out of his best friend.
Leon blinked again. This man was dressed, though and somehow Leon doubted that Sirens walked around in clothes, if their main goal was to actively change appearences based on their victim's desires.
Leon opened his mouth slightly as he conducted that this man was Bruta's exact type. Yeah... that was not a knowledge he wanted to ruin his memories with. Or base this association of. This man was even Bruta's age, if he considered him carefully.
He was, at the very least, older than Leon himself.

"What? Visitor? Why? Is there a party?"
He did not, however, seem the social type. More the I-love-hiding-in-the-library-type.

Leon shook his head slowly and finally the man's eyes landed on him. Or rather, DOWN on him. He was taller than Leon. He was about as much taller than Leon than Bruta was smaller. It was odd, seeing him - seeing HEMLOCK - again.

"Hi.", was all Leon could muster.

The man - Joseph - tilted his head and considered Leon for a moment. "Is this another weird proposal thing going on? Because I TOLD Lord Hemfort I'm sick of him sending me all his children one by one to choose from. I have made up my mind. I am NOT interested."

"Erm-", Leon said, because he had no idea what situation he was in.
"That's not why I'm here.", he said finally, though he wasn't sure anymore WHY he was here. In fact, he would love to be anywhere else right now.

"Oh.", said Joseph. Suddenly much more cheerful. "Now then, come in. Make yourself comfortable. Kilgharrah, would you like some tea? We haven't talked in ages."
Kilgharrah snorted. "You just don't want to read any more tax reports."
The king grinned painfully. "If it were just that." He paused mischievously. "I can't seem to FIND them."
The dragon laughed, then. Perhaps it was not a rare occasion that the king lost important reports.

There was an accent to his voice, Leon decided. It had lower vowels and sharper consonants. Apart from that he had a friendly, if not melodic voice. Leon had imagined a fearsome warrior. Not a random nerd who happened to have some servants moving about. Not that Leon had paid much attention to them on his way here. He had been marvelling at the construction of the building, instead.

Then Joseph waved his hands about and suddenly the papers rearranged themselves and stacked onto each other into neat piles. The books were let down on the ground in the corners of the room. Out of nowhere a chair materialised in the room. A comfy looking one. Kilgharrah was sitting down on a pillow that hadn't been there before either.
Then the doors flung open and a serving girl rushed in to bring them tea. Who had told her to bring it, Leon could only guess. Perhaps she could read minds? Or perhaps Joseph knew how to send his requests out to his staff whenever he wished.

"Now now, sit down, young man. Tell me your troubles. Do you like cake?"

"I do.", said Leon and tried not to sound too curious or eager. Cake was a secret passion of his and he remained to keep it like that. (2)
"So...", said the young king and began to slice the cake. It must have been apple pie for how it smelled like it. "Tell me, why are you here?"

Leon hesitated, then sat down on the provided chair. For a second he doubted it would hold. It was made of air, after all. "I came here with king Bruta. From the east.", Leon explained and watched as Bruta put his slice on a plate.
"We came here to discuss a matter of... ", Leon paused. "Well, we thought it was war."
Leon took the cake at the same moment that this Fisher King person looked up in surprise.
"War? War with whom? How far east are we speaking?"

"From beyond the Siren border.", Leon finally said and swallowed around the words. It wasn't that what he had seen there was all that much of a horror. After all, how could an orgy be a horror to any man, right? Still his stomach clenched around the idea what his friends and brother had been going through. Leon was under no illusion that they may have been enjoying themselves to death, but Leon would have experienced it as suffering. Their control being taken away, their decisions and desires used against them. Leon felt sick thinking about it. He found that he often did, when it came to intimacy.

Joseph put down the plate. He didn't say a word, but the look on his face promised Leon that he understood.

So Leon continued. "They didn't affect me like it did the others. I was able to flee into your country and your dragon friend here told me why. But he also claims not to know anything about a war between the Dragon Lords and us. Yet we have spend the past few years doing nothing else but fight your kind."

"He said he killed a dragon.", Kilgharrah offered.

Joseph's eyes widened with every word that Leon spoke. "No Dragon nor Dragon Lord was supposed to ever cross the border! Our roots are HERE in the magical kingdom." The idea that Leon had killed a dragon appeared far less surprising to him than his own people refusing a direct order.
"Your world is not supposed to know about us.", he said and put a hand over his mouth. He seemed distraught, which Leon was glad for.
He also didn't like it at all. Because if this king had never intended for war between them, then the matter was far more complicated than Leon had ever believed it to be. And Leon was a man of the sword, not of politics.
"Why not?" Leon could guess why, he still wanted to hear it.

Joseph leaned back and began sipping on his tea without touching his cup. It simply flew in the air where he could see it.
"There is a great power imbalance between our kin, young knight. Dragon Lords are immortal. The scales of Dragons is pretty much impenetrable. Your people may be many more than our kin is, but we do not fall. If we do, it impacts magic itself."

"Is that why you put Sirens between us?" Leon pressed his lips together.

The king shook his head. "It was to keep you out, I thought my word was enough to keep my people in. It was also a means to keep the peace between our kingdom and the Sirens. Their kin has preyed on far too many people. We have to keep them entertained but not in control."

"I supposed that's meant to make me feel better about losing my brother then." Leon didn't spit at him, nor did he shout. He simply regarded his own cup with mild interest.

The king sat up and straightened his spine. "What is your name, young knight?"

"Leon."

"Leon.", the king nodded, deep in thought. "I can assure you, your peers are not dead."

Leon perked up, hope filling him so suddenly it bordered on ecstatic. "They aren't?"

The king remained troubled, though. "No, not yet. Unless.... how long ago was it?"

Leon bit his lip. "Yesterday." He didn't like Joseph's tone. He didn't like it at all.

The king exhaled a deep breath. "Oh, that's good news. I assure you, they are still alive, but only just. The Sirens take three days to fully digest a soul. I will send them a message to release your brother."

"Only my brother?"

The king drew his eyebrows together. "I have promised the Siren's free hunting ground at that border. I can't just tell them to give everyone their souls back. I would risk war with them. I may be immune, but many of my people are not."

That just made it worse. Leon swallowed and closed his eyes. "Then not him."
He didn't look at Joseph, but he heard him huff in surprise. "Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, but if I can save only one of these knights, it has to be king Bruta. He is the one you can trade with. He is the one who will unite the lands of Albion and bring peace to the country. People listen to him, not to my brother."
Leon didn't know when he had begun to believe in Bruta, but he now realised that he did. In fact, he believed in him much more than he ever intended to.

Joseph spoke quietly, clearly sensing Leon's distress. "I'm sorry, but I must ask, is this king really worth your brother's life?"

Leon closed his eyes. He leaned forward, and put the plate of cake down. He felt no longer hungry. Nor like he deserved the treat. "I'm from a small town, your highness. I learned how to survive when I was really young. My brother did little to help me with that. He wasted the money that I earned. He lost a great deal of it in silly games. Now he was given a purpose for his talent with magic and he's not even honing his skills like Bruta wanted him to. I love him and I care for him, but Bruta gave dozens of people like me a home. He gave me a purpose, something to fight for. He trusted me, when I barely trusted myself. He's treated me more like a brother than anyone else ever did. Including my brother.
I love my brother. I do." Leon paused. He knew how it sounded. And he felt ashamed for it, but it was the truth. "But I can't let Bruta die for him. Not when I have a choice."

Joseph didn't speak for a few moments, then he raised an arm and for a moment, his eyes turned golden. In his arm appeared a bird. A falcon of sorts. It was a merlin. A being completely made of magic, of golden light. Bruta nodded at it and soon it flew of.
"They will return them both to you.", he said and Leon's eyes fluttered open.
For a moment it was silent once again.
"I admit, it makes me curious. A king who inspires such loyalty. And a magic user in a land outside of magic who doesn't."

Leon stared at him. Suddenly his heart beat increased with both hope and misery. Joseph was saving them both? Shame filled Leon, reminding him how selfish his choices were. Were the others not worth saving? What had gotten into Leon that he thought he could decide upon the importance of people? He regretted every word he had said to inspire it. And yet he felt grateful that his wishes were granted. That the people most important to him would return.
"There are a few in our country who possess magic. But little have as much as my - as Cornelius does.", Leon said and decided then and there that it would be the last time he called Cornelius his brother. He had just revoked his right to call him that. It tasted foreign on his tongue, despite the familiar weight of it.

Joseph nodded. Then shook his head. "Men do not possess magic. Some are simply born with the ability to talk with it. I have been born with a great gift. I can speak to Emrys himself."

Leon stared at him again. "Emrys?"

"The bird.", Joseph offered. "That was one of many manifestations that magic takes. Some say that once upon a time, magic was a god, a person of great power who was punished for a great fight they had with other gods. The punishment was that they were given a rock to nurture into something great. Only if that rock would prosper, would Emrys be allowed back among the gods. But they loved this rock so much that they did more than just nurture it. They ingrained their own life into that rock and watched as it grew into what earth is today.
And some people say that one day, Emrys will become one of us. They will set foot on this earth and abandon the gods for good."

"Do you believe in that?", Leon asked. He was glad for the distraction, but couldn't help but wonder why Joseph was telling him this.

"I do." Joseph said it with a convinced smile, so Leon didn't ask any further.
"You said you were immune to the sirens, did you not?"

Actually, Leon had said the Sirens had no effect on him, but he supposed it were the same thing. "Yes."
"Did they not entice you just a little?" He seemed curious. His head was tilted in a way that children do when they keep wondering about the world and it's functions.

Leon shook his head. "No.", he said honestly. "But you are immune too, are you not?" Leon felt strange at the question. The idea that someone else felt just like he did was a nice one. But something told him that they were still different. Something about Leon MUST be wrong, if he was the only one not enticed by these creatures of lust and desire.

The king nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" That was not very reassuring. Leon looked to Kilgharrah who had promised him someone who understood. Someone who felt the same. But the dragon looked just as curious as Leon did.

"I suppose Kilgharrah told you some tales about me being immune to Sirens and never once having an interest in anyone, yes?" The king smiled but shook his head, as if it were a joke to him. As if that didn't make Leon feel... he felt like someone had shot him just now.
"Don't get me wrong, there is some truth to it. I do not desire to experiment with people. I do not desire women nor men nor the kindness that Siren's provide.
Perhaps you will understand. What form did your Siren take? They sense what your type is and then form into someone you may trust enough to be ready to hand over your soul."

Leon blinked. "Their leader took off their human skin, once he realised none of the forms were working."

Joseph stopped in his knowing smile. "You did not fight back?"

Leon blinked. "Fight against what?"

Joseph's eyes cleared so suddenly it gave Leon whiplash. "You didn't even have to fight?"

"Did you?", Leon returned the question and watched with a sinking feeling in his gut as Joseph nodded.

"Now you're getting more and more interesting, Leon. My Siren took the form of a person with very kind eyes and a trustworthy face. I did not desire him physically, but he was enticing in an intellectual way. However, I simply do not trust people. Advances of strangers make me wary. I refused him, but I did have to fight against it. As far as I know, I'm the first who managed to escape them. Now, when I see them, I have little to fear. Once you figure out that rejection is their weak point, they cannot get control over you again. It affords great strength of will. But to hear they had no effect on you at all ..."

Leon looked down. "So, we're not the same after all."

The king paused and regarded Leon with empathy. "There is nothing wrong in the way you feel. Despite what form my Siren takes, I have never taken anyone in and I have chosen against ever doing so. I have never met anyone who meets my high expectations of a relationship and even less who would agree to my terms."

Leon didn't believe him. "Didn't you say they feed on souls? What if I simply don't have one?"

Jospeh stared at him. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"I don't know what I believe."

"I know what it looks like when someone lost their soul. Your do not look like that."

Leon didn't know how it had come to this. How was he sitting here, discussing his love life with this stranger? This king who let good warriors die, only so they couldn't cross the border to his kingdom? The very men that had trained with Leon, that he had sometimes shared wine with? Why was it Leon who was still alive? He did not deserve it.

"Maybe it would be best, if you slept this off. You've been through a lot these past few days. And figuring out that the way you love is not what you believed it would be can be just as demanding. I'm sure, by tomorrow you will feel much better." Joseph turned to the dragon who had listened intently to their conversation.
"Kilgharrah, get him to a room. Send someone to bring him some water and food. His brother and king will be here shortly, when they do, make sure there will be rooms prepared for them as well."

The dragon bowed to his king, then nudged Leon in the side. "Follow me.", he said and Leon stood up, slowly gathering himself.
Just before he reached the door, Joseph halted him one last time. "Leon. A man without a soul does not feel regret or shame for who he is. They don't feel anything. You are not heartless. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Leon looked at him, and a small burden lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you."

The king nodded, then the door closed shut behind Leon and the room disappeared behind a fresh wall of coaled stone.

--------------------------------------------------

TW.:// Mentions of blood, child abuse and rape: (A confrontation)

The best way to get to Agravaine - Morgana mused - would probably be to put her small self into Agravaine's rooms and once the two were alone, set the room on fire.

If she did that, then Uther would HAVE to come here and see it happen. She just had to make sure that between the time she set the door aflame and the time Uther barged in wasn't long enough for Agravaine to pull his pants back up.
The idea made her gag, still, but it seemed the most logical way. Arthur may not have meant for it to happen like this, but she would make it up to him. She would suffer, as she had let him suffer. Maybe then she would deserve his forgiveness.

She had just reached Agravaine's room with her child self, as Arthur ran around a corner, a determined look on his face. The determination turned to relief, as he spotted her in time.
Morgana didn't have time to react, as he pulled her away from the door and pushed her in a different room. It was an antechamber that belonged to Agravaine's personal maid. She was an old woman with little humour, but thankfully she was not around.
"Arthur, what -"

"Shut up, Morgana!", Arthur said and immediately put a hand on her mouth. With her child in hand and no room to cast a spell in this small room, Morgana obeyed. She would have fought back, but she caught herself feeling grateful that he was here to stop her.
"This is not the way." His shoulders sagged with concealed pain and with an urgency to his tone that Morgana couldn't ignore.
"Can't you create a puppet from magic to use for this? Can't you just... not sacrifice yourself? I beg you, Morgana. No one deserved this fate! NO ONE. Not even Agravaine himself."

Morgana swallowed down her frustrating mix of relief and fear. "My power is not strong enough to make such a thing.", she muffled under his hand. It was true. With her one eye gone, she had given away half her powers.
She did not ask how Arthur had gotten free. She didn't need to. It was pretty self explanatory.

Arthur sighed and put his hand from her mouth. "Morgana, this is NOT how we get rid of Agravaine. We'll find another way."

"And what is that?"

Both siblings turned around, just to stare into Uther Pendragon's face. They hadn't noticed the door opening. Now it fell into it's lock with a loud clang. Uther's eyes immediately landed on the child in Morgana's arms and alarm filled him.
No one had answered him, but Uther's face was pale as he looked at the child, then Arthur. Eyes were comically wide, as if frightened. "How did you know?"

Arthur blinked. "Know what?"

Uther stared at the two of them, especially Morgana. "Marleen, what is the meaning of this? Why do you have this child with you?"

Arthur startled at the name, but put the pieces together. "It's nothing.", he said for her, but Morgana glared at him. The hand was still pressed to her mouth, so she couldn't really answer anyways, that didn't mean she couldn't glare. When Arthur noticed it, he pulled his hand off her.

"He won't believe that, you idiot. I'm already on thin ice, in this kingdom. I don't know if you noticed, but I AM a high priestess of the old religion and this man is Uther Pendragon!"

"I know that!", Arthur snapped back. "Father, I am so -"

Morgana scoffed. "You think telling him you're from the future will protect you? He's already decided you will die here. I don't know if you noticed, Arthur, but that IS a possibility! You're the only one here whose future hasn't been fully written yet!"

"Could you not -", Arthur said with annoyance in his voice.

Uther was beginning to tap the ground with his foot. "I believed I asked you a question. How do you know about Morgana?" Uther glanced meaningfully at the child.

"I beg your pardon?", Arthur asked, unsure what Uther wanted from him.

Uther took in a deep breath. "Does Marleen know as well?"

"Know what?" Was Arthur dumb? He felt like he should know what Uther was asking of him. As it was, he had no idea.

Morgana, however, seemed to have no such qualms. She looked between Arthur and herself, then at Uther and her mind connected the dots. "That she's not Gorlois daughter, Arthur. She's Uther's."

"Oh.", Arthur made. Then his eyes widened. "OH.", he said again, this time with real understanding. Right, that was not common knowledge. He shouldn't have known about that. At least not in Uther's reality.

Uther stared at him, his eyes wide open and it seemed that he too, was slowly lifting a layer of chosen obliviousness from his mind. "Did I tell you? In the future?"
The sudden acceptance threw Arthur off guard and he stepped towards his hopeless father with confusion. Uther looked him up and down, slowly assessing every feature as if to find himself in his look. Perhaps not himself, but he found someone else for sure. "You were right. You do look like your mother."

Arthur blinked in shock. "You believe me?"

Uther gritted his teeth, then looked at the adult Morgana. "What were you planning with my child, witch?"

Arthur put himself between them. "She was saving her."

"Saving her? From what?"

"Agravaine.", Arthur said and surprised himself with how thick the name felt on his tongue. Repulsion washed over him in waves, but his voice revealed nothing yet.

Uther stared at him, his eyebrows narrowing and revealing his growing confusion. "Agravaine? Why?"

Arthur felt strange. It was one thing to admit to himself what had happened with Agravaine. It felt good to talk to Morgana about it. But admit it to his father? Show Uther his greatest fear? Uther, who had ridiculed Arthur on his every behaviour? Who had forbidden him to play with other children? Who had put this man at his side, in hope he would make a man out of Arthur?
He could not just tell Uther how he knew what Agravaine did. He wouldn't believe a word he said, if it came down to this (yet) unharmed child in Morgana's arms.
The words died on Arthur's tongue and he realised he was afraid. He was afraid to say it. Afraid of what Uther would say, of what he would think. Afraid of the disgust and shame he felt to be mirrored in the eyes of this man whose opinion he still valued.

"Do you... do you remember what you talked with Sir Leon about, when I fell from behind that painting?", he began slowly, hoping that the mention of torture was enough. That he didn't have to reveal more. Now that Uther knew who he was. Now that he believed it, too.

Uther looked at him, eyes wide open, curious and surprised in equal amounts.

"He was right." It was all Arthur dared to say and he hoped Uther would finish the puzzle by himself. Hoped it would be enough to announce that he suffered under Agravaine's hands. Hoped it would be enough to spark empathy in Uther's heart. Arthur knew the attempt was futile even before his father reacted.

Uther blinked again. Then he seemed to remember and he frowned. "I ordered Sir Agravaine to punish you, if you don't behave. If he hurt you, he did it to shape you into a king. Why would he do the same to ... to Morgana." He waved at the child and then waited for Arthur's explanation.

Arthur's stomach dropped. He turned to Morgana, the real one, the one with a soul. She turned her head. She wanted Arthur to have this conversation by himself. But Arthur felt how she released a hand on her child self, to put it on his arm to reassure him.

Arthur startled at the sudden contact and shame welling up in his eyes. He didn't want to have this conversation. He had never planned to tell Uther about it. He had imagined having a conversation with Merlin, but his own father? He didn't hide the tears, not this time. Arthur was suffering. Arthur had always been suffering and now he was shaking in front of Uther Pendragon himself whose face turned more and more disgusted. Especially, when Arthur's lips began to quiver. Disgust at him portraying his emotions, rather than the real reason behind them.
How could he ever tell Uther of his greatest shame? His greatest fear? A king should not be afraid. No man was worth his tears. No man was...
Perhaps that's what pushed him over the edge at last. The rage. The only emotion he WAS allowed to feel. What this had to do with Morgana? Nothing. Everything. Arthur didn't care, it wasn't about her.
"Leon told you so many times that I could not bear him. He told you to look out for me and you DIDN'T!", he said and balled his hands to a fist, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. He had rarely ever shown his emotions to Uther. Now he felt them overflowing.
He felt everything at once. Ever word he never dared to say. Perhaps it was time. Perhaps Uther needed, no... deserved to hear it. Uther deserved to choke on his own mistakes, too. "What the hell do you murder magic users for, if your own family can betray you in front of your very eyes?!"

Uther frowned. "I thought I would raise a MAN. A KING. What is this attitude of yours? Is this how you intend to become king?" It was hard to register that Uther wouldn't know he was dead in the future. Arthur wasn't going to tell him. It didn't matter. A part of him was glad for it. He was glad that his father was no longer there to torment him with silence.

"You didn't raise me at all." Arthur's voice was a whisper.

Uther's eyes opened wide. "I beg your pardon?"

Arthur shuddered with anger and he rose his voice. "You should. You should get on your knees and pray to whatever god you believe in that I will ever look at you with kindness again. That I won't strike you dead right now! You should beg any god, to forgive you for all the shit you pulled. And the shit you're still GOING to pull.
You never even CHECKED what Agravaine was doing to me, did you?" Arthur's rage brought forth venom from within and Arthur shook off Morgana's hand to pull off the servant shirt he was still wearing. Bare skin was brought to light and with it the scars that many fights had left him with. Arthur grabbed his father's hand before the man could flinch and put him on a scar right underneath his collarbone. "Do you know what I got this one for?"

Uther's eyes were wide with bewilderment. He didn't answer. And he didn't need to.
"I got it for bleeding on my bedsheets, the first time he forced himself on me." Arthur's heart was racing and there was a lump in his throat so thick, it forced more tears to spill.

Uther stared at him, his eyes wide. "What do you mean, FORCED -"

Arthur interrupted him with a yell: "It MEANS he put his DICK up my ASS when I was FIVE!" Arthur's voice broke and he could tell Morgana froze in place. Arthur knew she had seen that very moment. It was why he felt save enough to say it. She was there with him. He was not alone and he felt incredibly grateful for it.

Uther's eyes widened and flickered between Arthur and the scar where his hand rested on. Arthur let his tears fall on Uther's hand.
There was horror in Uther's eyes. Suddenly, all rage left Arthur and he let go of his hand. He stepped back, where it now found assurance in Morgana's instead.
Arthur averted his eyes. He didn't want to look at his father anymore.

"I...", Uther began and Arthur closed his eyes. Arthur hoped Uther would choke on it.
"Why did you never tell me?"

Arthur laughed, his eyes remaining closed. "And then what? Would you have believed me? You're saying you would have cared?"
When Arthur looked up he suddenly knew with a certainty he had never felt before, that he hated this man. He loved Uther, he did. But more than that he hated him with a passion he didn't know he was capable of.

"Of course I -"

"You told me you'd rather kill me than watch me grow into a coward."

"I-" Uther seemed to fight with himself. The mere idea of what happened to Arthur had put disgust on his face. The worst part was that Arthur wasn't sure it was for Agravaine alone.
"I'm sorry.", Uther said and this time it was him who looked away.

Arthur felt disappointed. "Is that all you have to say?" It then occurred to Arthur that Uther had known. Uther had known the entire time. Because he would remember this conversation and nothing would change. Arthur felt drained, suddenly.

Uther stared at him. "What else can I say? It's not going to change what happened, is it? There is nothing I can do to change it now.l"

Arthur was disbelief. Arthur was hopelessness. "There is plenty you could do." How did Uther not see it?

Uther shook his head. "I can't undo -"

"You could be there NOW. You could tell me you're not disgusted with me. You could tell me you won't threaten me again. Even though I know for a FACT that's not going to happen. You could give me ONE GOD DAMN HUG in your life and tell me you'll help me through it. You could tell me that I'm not alone and you don't love me any less for it. You could let me speak my heart and not ridicule me for having emotions. You could do so many things. But you refuse to try."

Uther stared at him. "I won't always be there to solve your problems for you."

Arthur stared at him. And then, he felt acceptance. Cold, tight and choking acceptance. "I know.", he said and he said it with a relief that Uther could hear. He knew he could hear it, it was obvious in Arthur's exhale. It was true. In the future Uther was dead. In the future, Arthur didn't have to deal with this anymore.

Uther opened his mouth. Then closed it. Arthur answered the question anyway. This time calm and collected. He wiped away the tears. THIS conversation was over.
"You never solved any of my problems. You made me handle all of them on my own. And that is the life you lead, Uther. You will dig your own grave and you will feel alone for the rest of your life. You will live in grief and I will be the one to solve your problems for YOU. You will control every part of my life and in doing so, you will lose me."

Uther still stared at him. "Do you realise how much I risked for you?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. I know it all. Your war against magic, my mother's death. They are all your fault, because you loved your legacy more than your own wife. And then you never even looked at me. You call me weak because of my emotions, but I'm not. Because unlike you, I DEAL with them."

Uther's expression turned troubled with something. Arthur didn't know what it was. "Spare it, Uther. It's too little, too late." He had been given all the chances that Arthur could offer. This man was no longer his father.

"Arthur -", Morgana whispered and tugged on his hand. "We still need to get Agravaine banished." It was loud enough that Uther could hear. She was telling him to convince Uther to do it, but Arthur knew this wasn't how this story would go. When he looked at the soulless child, he was glad they had established that much. Because if Uther had simply seen... it wouldn't have changed a thing either. He knew that with a dreaded certainty.

"Son -", Uther then said and he looked awkward as hell. His eyes fell to the soulless child as well. "Where you... where you going to use her as bait?"

Arthur met his eyes. "So what? If it happens to her it's a problem, but when it happens to your me it's 'shaping me into a man?' " Arthur made air quotes.

Uther's eyes widened. And suddenly the horror in it was directed at Arthur himself. In the coldness of his stare. Arthur knew the comparison was unfair. But that's how Uther had raised him, and he could hear Morgana gasping, as if she finally realised it too. Arthur didn't need to say it, because it was clear to both of them.
Arthur had always only been the heir first. The prince. The king to be.
Morgana had been Uther's daughter. Even when he was denying her, he still treated her with respect. She was allowed to talk back to him, when Arthur was not. She was allowed to speak, when Arthur was forced into silence in all the ways one could imagine. He listened to her advise, when Arthur was send to order people to starve.

Uther opened his mouth. Then he turned his head away and it hit Arthur that maybe... maybe this was why. Maybe this conversation was why Uther never spoke to him. Never looked at him with kindness. Maybe this is why he kept his distance, because deep, deep down, he was afraid of him. Of him turning out like this.

He stepped backwards, his hand suspiciously on his sword. Then, suddenly, Morgana interrupted his silence. "You're wrong. Arthur never planned to use your daughter as bait." Once again, Uther turned to her. "I did.", Morgana dared him. Challenged him and Arthur knew it was a mistake as soon as Uther's eyes landed on her again.

"You -" And then his eyes searched between Morgana and Arthur and his eyes landed on their intertwined hands.
Once again, the pieces clicked in Arthur's head as he watched. As he watched Uther's tolerance for 'Marleen' grow into betrayal and then hatred. Disgust deforming his perception of reality into the wild anger that Arthur grew up knowing.
"You used your magic to corrupt him.", he suddenly stated. His voice sounding dangerous and a second later he pulled his sword. "You used his weakness to make him turn on me!" Arthur didn't have time to react, as Morgana shouted an incantation. Her hand broke from the hold she had on her brother to administer the spell. Behind Uther, the wall exploded and Uther was thrown backwards with it.

"RUN!", she yelled and pulled Arthur along, as they stumbled over the grovel and through the dust.
"And WHERE the HELL do we go?", Arthur yelled back.
"Just.... ", Morgana huffed in frustration as she hugged the child tight. "Just run!"

(1) Look, I realise the fisher king was like... a white old man. Ignore that.
(2) I know the joke is old, but if I can put Leon in a row with dragons and cake, then I will, because peak ace culture.