Disclaimer: If I owned them, they'd be doing this onscreen!

Author's Notes: Spoilers and canon-related for everything up to 3x12. Explicit content. Angst out the wazoo, but with a happy ending, I promise. Written for furloughday for the merry_merthur gift exchange. Master list of fic & art for exchange can be found at

Merry Merthur on Livejournal

Thanks to pseudoxcanon, celli, _makeachange, Rosie and especially imnotjkr for beta and cheering!

As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated - Please R&R!

Ascension

Stillness thinned the air of Uther Pendragon's chamber, only fractured by the King's unsteady breath and Arthur's own nervous shift in the chair at his bedside.

"What does the physician say?" Uther asked, his eyes closed against the daylight streaming in through the windows.

Arthur leaned back, fighting the urge to reach for his father's hand. The gesture would not be appreciated, and he didn't think he could stomach his father's contempt just now, in this rare moment of perfect clarity. "Gaius is working to determine if the illness is magical in nature."

A muscle in his father's jaw twitched and Arthur held his breath, trying hard not to sigh in frustration. Magic was to blame for nearly every direct attack on his father, yet magic seemed the only hope to ward off or thwart the same attacks.
Though no one dared to throw it in the King's face, it was obvious that the banning of magic and persecution of sorcerers seemed the sole motivation of each and every attempt on their lives.

Uther pressed his hands to the sides of his head, his eyes closed. "Has he a course of treatment in mind?"

Reaching into his tunic, Arthur withdrew the vial of sedating liquid, setting it on the bedside cabinet. "He said this will help you sleep, father. I assure you he is working through the night, and I will personally assist him, My Lord, as will Merlin." Arthur bowed his head. "Father, I-"

Uther breathed out with obvious impatience. "You should take this opportunity, Arthur, if you need to speak with me. This is no time for hesitation or timidity."

Arthur drew in a deep breath. "I'm not prepared, Father. I'm not ready."

Uther's eyes opened and he seemed on the verge of saying something, but turned his head away.

"I feel as though all of Camelot is watching to see what I'll do next, to see if I can fill your shoes and I know I can't." Arthur paused, regretting the words as soon as they passed through his lips. Unable to take them back, he shook his head and tried to smile. "Perhaps I'm over-reacting."

Uther positively glared and Arthur felt even worse, something he hadn't thought possible.

"I have done almost nothing but dedicate myself to preparing you for the throne. You will take it, Arthur, when the time comes. By the laws of the Kingdom, if I am incapable of ruling for longer than a full moon cycle, I must permanently abdicate the throne and you will be crowned King of Camelot."

Arthur's chest felt as though it was caving in and he couldn't draw breath. He stood, desperate for escape. He nodded once, and turned to go, but a hand closed loosely on his wrist. Though the weakness of his father's grip made him sick with fear, he did not dare pull away from it.

"You must separate your... every emotion from your task. You will complete the Rites of Ascension and be wholly prepared to take this monarchy from me, son." His father was adamant, but completely defeated. Arthur never imagined it would be he who usurped his own father.

"I will do as you ask, of course, though I'm sure you will recover." Arthur closed his hand over his father's. "I will not let you down, Father."

"You will do this for Camelot, not for me, Arthur. Your motivation and first priority must be the kingdom."

His spine straightened at the callous order, but he realized the practicality behind his father's advice at once. "Yes, Sire."

"I've nearly got it!" Merlin leaned precariously off one side of a ladder, fingers just brushing the book he was after, the library's shelving a tad too tall for his usually ample reach. He glanced down, seeing only Gaius far below him, nose deep in the pages of yet another book, surrounded by stacks of the tomes they'd painstakingly searched through all day.

Freeing just a trickle of the power that continually thrummed beneath the surface of his skin, he summoned the book to himself wordlessly. He absolutely loved casting silently, a trick he'd been perfecting late at night in his rooms.

A sneeze caught him off guard - damn the dust - and the book missed his outstretched hand, hitting him forcefully square in the chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Four other books rushed along with the first, all of them falling like lead bricks toward Gaius' startled, upturned face.

Merlin snapped the words out, froze the books as quickly as he could in the air above his mentor's head, stripped the excess of power away and glided them to the work surface just as he lost his balance and toppled off the ladder. He held fast to the text and landed with a grunt and shock of pain along his spine and tailbone, the latter taking the brunt of the fall. Just as he handed the book up to Gaius and reached back to rub the stinging hip, Arthur rounded the corner. Yet another reminder that his secret and Arthur were only ever a hair's breadth apart.

"He can't be helping you," Arthur laughed out, reaching down for a fistful of Merlin's tunic, yanking him to his feet.

Merlin couldn't think of a retort, not when he was still reeling from the shock of the fall. He grabbed onto Arthur's shoulder and forearm for balance, the palms of his hands smarting as though he'd held them too close to a flame. He didn't let go until Arthur did; a nod of thanks all he could manage.

Gaius turned back to his stacks, flipping open one of the books Merlin had nearly dropped on his head. "He's more useful than he looks. It was Merlin who found the court physician's medical records from the last three centuries when neither Geoffrey nor I could do so."

Merlin turned back to right the ladder, which didn't truly need straightening, but Arthur waslooking at him again and Merlin's face was flushing hotly.

"We're doing all we can to find the cure, but you must prepare yourself, Sire. It pains me to say, but..." Gaius took a deep breath, his brow furrowed. "The King may be lost to us."

Arthur's eyes flared with anger and determination. "We will not give up on him." He looked to Merlin, who nodded quickly, unable to think of anything to say.

"Clarity tonics and sedatives will only delay the dementia, I'm afraid. The King realizes this and has sent word to change our course." Gaius glanced at the gilded manuscript at the end of the table, its title clearly visible to Arthur.

Rites of Ascension

Arthur huffed and rested a hand on his sword hilt. "Yes, well. My father is not himself at present, as you know, Gaius. His judgment is not to be-" Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It was clear the Prince was having a hard time speaking of his father's illness. Merlin took the next deep breath with him, willing him strength.

"His judgment is somewhat impaired," Arthur finished, looking from Gaius to Merlin and back again as if daring one of them to respond. "We will continue researching a cure."

"As you wish, My Lord." Gaius nodded, his expression weary.

"We shall have to rely on your expertise and Merlin's dumb luck, then, shan't we?" Arthur grinned, but shook his head. "Gaius, truly, I have every faith that you - without the distraction of Merlin here - will be able to find a solution."

Merlin looked up at that. "Surely I can do more good helping Gaius than mucking out your stables, can't I?" He smiled, but at Arthur's frown, he added, "I mean, don't you think, Sire?"

"You will attend me this evening." Arthur turned to go. He paused at the archway to the main room of the library with his head turned slightly over his shoulder in what Merlin recognized was a final summons before Arthur would be beyond polite requests. "I need to think."

He should probably find a compliment in the juxtaposition, as if Arthur couldn't think without Merlin attending him, but Arthur was far too used to roughing it with his knights to let himself be distracted by a cold room or lack of food. Merlin hadn't a clue why Arthur would insist on him being there, other than his uncanny ability to ward off other servants with his presence.

Merlin sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll only be a moment. I need to speak with Gaius." He turned back to his uncle as Arthur left the room.

He reached under the table to the seat of a chair and pulled out his book of magic, flipping to a page he'd suddenly remembered seeing whilst studying locking charms. He wasn't sure if it would work on books as well as doors and trunks, but it was worth a shot.

Ducking his head in close as if whispering, he lifted the book Gaius had been reading. "When I saw the actual lock on this other book," he gestured at the tome that had made him fall, "I remembered this unlocking charm that might just...Lochsier, revelous Thevellus Pendragon medicino."

His vision flared gold and he knew his eyes did too, for Gaius was holding his breath, something he always did when Merlin cast in front of him, as though after 20-odd years without practicing it, magic made him nervous.

He quickly drew the book closer to their huddled bodies as the pages flew open, flicking by. Merlin glanced over his shoulder in alarm, but Arthur was gone.

The book stretched itself open midway, its spine cracking and the pages rustling to silence looked down and saw the name he'd been searching for.

"There. We couldn't see it before because it had a stubborn guarding spell on it - that's ironic, isn't it - but here it is, Thevellus' medical record. Look, the Pendragon crest-" He pointed to a tiny shield in the upper corner of the manuscript's ornate border. There was the stylized lion, the colours an exact match to the family shield. "Madness, and... suicide. Gaius, what if this isn't some curse? What if it's in the Pendragon line? We have to do something. I'll be back as soon as I can get Arthur settled."

Gaius sighed deeply. "Merlin, he is a young man likely about to lose his father and the only family he has left in this world while in the same instant becoming King of a divided land. It is understandable that he should need a friend by his side."

Merlin smirked and stared at the book. "Then I should fetch one of the knights. I'm only a servant, after all." At Gaius' reproachful look, Merlin's half-smile fell to a frown. "Listen to me. We will find a cure."

The old man shook his head, but Merlin interrupted him before he could tell him again how hopeless the situation was.

"Don't give up." Merlin caught his eyes and waited until his mentor sighed. "Please, Gaius. He cannot lose Uther - not that way. I can't imagine what it would do to him."

Gaius put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and Merlin's eyes stung as he thought of Arthur standing over his father's empty throne. "I know, Merlin."

He nodded and attempted to smile. "I'll bring him back with me, then. You are worn to rags already."

Gaius scoffed and shook his head.

"Er... no offense intended," Merlin said quickly; he hadn't meant to insult his uncle.

"None taken, my boy," Gaius laughed. "I am quite sure I am in desperate need of the bathhouse and a mattress, and in that order."

Merlin slung his satchel over his shoulder, tucking the gilded book of Rites inside. "I can study it if Arthur sleeps. Just in case. It's not as if he won't eventually need to have the Rites completed anyhow." He glanced away at Gaius' knowing look. He refused to let doubt creep in and take over. "Send word if you find something, and I'll convince him to return with me - tell him an evil sorcerer has conjured a murderous book or something." Merlin sighed. "Honestly, this time I actually hope it is Morgana."

"Merlin! Now!" Arthur's voice carried even better than usual along the arching ceilings of the library.

"If you leave, don't forget my book. I mustn't take it to Arthur's rooms." With a nod from Gaius, Merlin went.

He caught up quickly, not bothering to check his long strides to stay a few feet behind Arthur's, though he knew all too well it was expected of him inside the citadel. The castle was quiet, the hallways all but empty in the late hours, but presuming to match step with Arthur usually earned him a smirk at the least.

The prince didn't so much as raise an eyebrow when their shoulders bumped together as they climbed the stairs. Arthur didn't notice or call him out on his impertinence. It was unsettling to see him so distracted. After all, insulting Merlin was one of his favourite pastimes.