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ograndebatata · 8 years ago

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Trials Of The Underworld - Ch. 02

Well, it seems responsiveness to this idea wasn't quite as great as my expectations envisioned.

All the same, thank you very much for the early response to my story, in terms of reviews and readership alike. I hope you're all enjoying this.

This oneshot introduces the prompts from Zee-Zee Magee of fanfiction dot net (Stealthy moving on) and Bookworm101234 from archiveofourown (Arthur versus Cruella), though they don't get fully borne out yet. I hope you enjoy.

As always, if you want to send a prompt of your own, feel free to.

Read on ff.net.

Read on AO3.

By The Clock Tower

He had come into existence as one of eight, born from an egg and deep under ground as his kind did. The first thing he did after being welcomed by the eggs' guard was collect the pickaxe that would name him. It had named him Stealthy; as with all dwarfs, the name fit.

For his first year, his life had consisted essentially of mining for fairy dust and going to the pubs in his downtime, like every other dwarf's. Then, it took a turn when one of his brothers, Dreamy, fell in love with a fairy. Stealthy could no more understand that than his six other brothers could, but nevertheless all of them supported their brother's decision to run away with her. Later, they supported Dreamy also when he broke said fairy's heart for her own sake. And when Dreamy, after he was renamed to Grumpy, ended up in King George's dungeon after changing his mind and trying to win back the fairy, Stealthy went to save him.

He succeeded, but met his end by doing so, and spent over thirty years in the Underworld struggling with unfinished business he didn't know. Even after he found out, he became unable to move on after learning that the former ruler of the Underworld intended to wreak havoc in Storybrooke.

Mere hours later, Stealthy learned of Captain Hook's and King Arthur's plan to help the Savior, in the world of the living. The moment he did, he settled down in the diner to wait for news.

He had guessed from the beginning it could be a long wait, but he wasn't ready for just how so. Nor was he ready for the bits of information he overheard while he waited.

In the Blind Witch's Diner…

This might not be Hell, but as far as Stealthy was concerned, it was close enough. King Arthur and Captain Hook still hadn't returned from their quest, knowing his unfinished business did not magically poof him out of the Underworld, and the Blind Witch and Cruella De Vil had spent the last hours talking so loudly about the changes they planned to make that maybe even the living could hear them even without the phone booth.

Worse, news had arrived about the doomed people in the River Of Lost Souls rising out of the water and dragging others in. So far they couldn't get too far from the river, but that could change. And as Cruella had taken the care to point out to him specifically, 'the stubble sandwich' was bound to have run into them on their way out, which meant they were just 'two more swirls for that glorified spinach soup'.

If that was true, then Hades must be up to no good in the world of the living. There had been no new arrivals since Arthur, but just because no one had died it didn't mean no one was suffering.

All kinds of thoughts about his brothers being enslaved by the God of Death traveled across his head like a herd of deer running in circles, even as he tried to steer them away from his worst ideas. And the Blind Witch and Cruella coming over to enjoy the terror he made no effort to hide was no help.

But Stealthy's hope had endured over thirty years in the Underworld. What was left of it could survive for a few hours longer.

Even if those two hags were doing a pretty good job of stamping it out.

In the Underworld's Sorcerer's Mansion...

He had struggled with the idea of taking up residence in Merlin's home. He hadn't made the Sorcerer proud, and either the man himself or the Apprentice might show up at any time and have the dead man's equivalent of a heart attack at seeing him. But the mansion fit far too many requirements. It was seemingly vacant, it was out of the way, and it was inherently powerful enough that the worst of evildoers stayed away; from what Captain Jones had told him, Hades hadn't even been able to approach it.

So he had moved in. Now he stood before a full length mirror in the largest sleeping room, surveying his new look for one last time, still not sure it fit him.

As the clothes he had died in stood out too much, he had changed into a suit like those he had seen in Storybrooke, with a silver vest, jacket, and trousers, a white dress shirt, a purple necktie and pocket square, and black dress shoes. None of those had been his color when he was alive, but Arthur wanted some distance from the person he had died as, and the color scheme seemed decent from his limited knowledge of that kind of attire.

He had more important issues to take care of anyway, and between his preliminary self-training in using his new powers, his brief familiarization with the Underworld, and his change of look, he had already lost too much time. He might not be getting any deader, but after what he had learned of the two witches ruling in Hades' stead, he didn't want to leave them in charge any longer.

More nervous than he had been when he deceived his subjects with the broken Excalibur, Arthur smoothed down his jacket, nodded at his reflection, and vanished from the Sorcerer's Mansion in a cloud of silver smoke.

In the Blind Witch's Diner...

"Attention."

Stealthy jumped in his seat at the sound: half of the beer in the mug jumped out and exploded across the table's surface, several stray globs splattering his chest. All sorts of reactions ensued at other spots; Cruella dropped a glass of alcohol into the ground, the Blind Witch gasped, and even the kid who had stopped talking centuries ago looked up.

That voice had come out of nowhere, and while conversational in tone, it seemed to be heard through the whole place as if the speaker was right beside each person at the same time. It did not sound aggressive - in fact, it even had a touch of hesitation - but everyone knew it took some powerful magic to make that.

"What was that?" Cruella snarked.

"It sounded like that armored beefcake's voice," the Blind Witch replied, all the usual breathiness of her voice gone.

The armored beefcake. She must mean King Arthur. And indeed, it had sounded like him. But he didn't have magic when Stealthy last saw him. How could he have done that?

"Attention. Attention to everyone in the Underworld. Please gather by the clocktower. There are important news for you to hear."

That was Arthur's voice. There was no doubt now. But how was he doing that? And what did he want?

"Please do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I merely have an important message to give you, and would like to give it in person to as many of you as possible."

Chattering rose up amongst the diner like the buzzing of a whole beehive. Cruella glared all across the room, but no one even seemed to notice her; the excited and hopeful murmurs were too prevalent.

Stealthy kept quiet, but he shared the sentiment. For Arthur to be giving a message, he hadn't fallen into the river. And if he hadn't fallen into the river, he had somehow sent the pages to the Savior, and Hades had been defeated. It did not answer the question of how he was sending this message, but Stealthy didn't really need to know that. He'd take someone like Arthur a thousand times before settling for Cruella and the Blind Witch.

"I shall be giving my message in twenty minutes, by the now restored clock tower," Arthur finished. "I look forward to seeing as many of you as possible. Farewell."

The moment Arthur finished speaking, all the people in the diner stampeded out of the door like a pack of ravenous dogs racing for the same bone. The degraded panel had no chance against them - it crumbled to pieces as if either no one bothered to open it or whoever did was unable to do so before being pushed by those behind him. Startled exclamations rose up from Cruella's and the Blind Witch's throats as they looked at the fleeing crowd. Meanwhile, Stealthy let go of his mug and hid under the table and chairs he had been sitting at.

Would it do any good? That breathy-voiced hag had a nose sharper than a bloodhound's, and though Stealthy had started masking his scent years ago, maybe it wouldn't be enough.

"What do we do?" Stealthy heard the Blind Witch asking, all hints from her usual breathiness gone.

The other woman scoffed in reply. "What do you think, darling? We march up to that conceited poser and show him he can't come around and steal our playpen."

A few seconds of silence followed.

"Should we really do that? There's something weird about Arthur suddenly being able to talk to us like this. It's almost as if he gained magic."

Cruella burst into laughter.

"You must have eaten something that's even more rotten than usual, darling! That's not magic; the stud must simply be using some kind of hidden radio to talk to us! It's just a trick to throw us off!"

"But he said the clock tower was repaired…"

For the first time, Cruella took a while to answer, the only sound from her a hum from thought. Then she said, "Maybe he's learned a few tricks now, but do you really think he can do anything that can best the stuff Hades gave you?"

Even without looking at her, Stealthy could almost sense the witch grinning again.

"That's the spirit, darling!" he heard Cruella cheering. "Now stop being pessimistic and come with me to crush the hopes of everyone in the Underworld, beginning with that delusional oaf!"

A pleased hum from the witch followed Cruella's response.

"Before or after his speech?"

Cruella's answering laugh made icy needles jab Stealthy's spine.

"After, darling. Much more hope to crush that way." Another moment of silence followed. "Let's go. It'll be nice to see just how much hope we'll be crushing."

Stealthy heard the Blind Witch snort in annoyance, presumably at Cruella's use of the word 'see'. Then he heard both women's heels clicking on the diner's floor, and then thudding on the stone floor outside thanks to the broken door.

They were in for a nasty surprise, in Stealthy's opinion. Whatever had happened to Arthur, the tricks he had learned were impressive. The fact he had spoken of a restored clock tower proved it. Stealthy had lost count of how many times groups of prisoners had tried to restore it as a punishment from Hades, but he knew that whenever that happened, the thing never held up for more than a minute before crumbling back down with a thunderous boom. If Arthur had managed to repair it and there had been no mighty crash yet, things looked good.

But those two witches had a few tricks up their own sleeves, and Arthur might not be ready for them. Someone had to warn him. And with them not having noticed him, Stealthy could do that.

Relieved that he hadn't lost his touch, the dwarf crept out from under the table and followed the witches at a distance, determined to see what they were planning so he knew what he should warn Arthur about.

By the Underworld's clock tower...

Thanks to his magic, he had repaired the clock tower with a single wave from his hand, and cleared the debris from the floor with an equally simple gesture. Accomplishing both feats had made him stare at the results of his job like an awed fish, at least until people started arriving, by which time he composed his expression.

The turnout was not particularly big, as far as Arthur could tell. Still, there were enough people to fill a reasonable amount of space on every direction he could look at, although any late arrivals still had enough room to make it to the front if they wished. If Arthur had to guess, most people in the Underworld had stayed away, afraid he would just turn out to be the next Hades.

It made sense. Although he had tried to sound as friendly and reassuring in his speech as possible, the idea of a new magical overlord must not be appealing to many.

Regardless of the low turnout, most of the people he could see looked either cautiously hopeful or downright eager to hear what he had to say. Not one face he could spot looked angry at him or eager to have him removed.

Perhaps it should be reassuring, but it only made his nervousness soar. When he had proved himself to be the rightful ruler of Camelot (or so he thought) by displaying Excalibur to his people, they at least had evidence, and even in the face of it, many questioned how an orphan who mucked out stalls could be the ruler who would repair their broken kingdom. Now, even though he had no true evidence that he was the one meant to repair this broken kingdom, (being chosen by Zeus wasn't something he could easily prove) there were no questioning or reproachful faces, and almost everyone he saw seemed at least hopeful about his takeover, with a few even looking at him as if he was the Savior.

Either Hades had been an even worse king that Arthur thought, or the witches had somehow managed to outdo even the God of Death in rottenness.

Arthur had no problem believing in either, but knowing he had such a mess to repair did not soothe him in the least.

The twenty minutes he had announced drained by faster than water from a stabbed goatskin. Most people that he figured would come were already here, muttering amongst themselves, but a few late arrivals still swerved through the crowds to get at what they deemed a nice spot to listen to him.

Arthur enabled the late arrivals to settle into the spot they chose, and then raised his hand to request for silence. The sounds around him faded like snuffed flames, save for a few scattered whispers. With silence back, Arthur reactivated the spell he had used to inform the Underworld's citizens of his speech, one that enabled him to speak with everyone in the Underworld at the same time, and yet making it so that no one would hear more than a conversational tone.

With the spell in place, he smoothed down his jacket once more, and began speaking.

"Greetings, inhabitants of the Underworld. I am King Arthur of Camelot, and I have important news to give all of you."

He paused to see if his introduction would trigger any angry comments or physical violence. No one reacted particularly differently. If any people harmed by his rule were here, they were keeping quiet for one reason or another.

"As those who haven't seen me may have guessed, I am new to this place. And as you may have noticed from my recent accomplishments…" saying so, he gestured to the restored clock-tower behind him "... I have been, how shall I put it, blessed with certain gifts recently."

It should be a good way to put it, but it probably hadn't been the best thing to say; a few nervous faces were appearing here and there.

"Please don't get scared, I won't use them to hurt any of you. I know you have been through three very detestable leaders, and I do not wish to follow in their steps. I do not profess to have been the best leader myself when I was alive, but I will strive to be the best I can."

A few of the nervous faces started to perk up, but several remained uneasy. Arthur went on with his speech.

"Above all, I ask you to look at me not as a new king, but as a restorer. I am aware the Underworld has not served its proper purpose for a long time. That this place, meant to help people deal with their unfinished business so they can move on, has been distorted into a site of suffering whose rulers only mean to cause pain. I promise you, I will not be like that. And I invite all who need help to tell me about your problems, so that I can assist you in dealing with them. This is by no means a conscription or a summons, and I promise not to take offense to any who would rather I had nothing to do with them. But to those who need a helping hand, know that both of mine are available."

It was hardly the best joke ever told in all the realms, but chuckles and even a few barked laughs rippled through the crowd. It must have been long since anyone in charge had told a joke unrelated to suffering.

Arthur let them enjoy the humor, and then assumed the most serious expression he possibly could. He was about to say something he would rather not have to say, but which he felt was best spoken than left unsaid.

"And while I wish it did not have to be this way, I do have one warning to issue." Seeing all eyes back on him, now with general apprehension, he finished, "What any of you did in life does not matter. Even now, you can change. I know that from experience, and will help anyone who wants to be helped, regardless of what they did in life." He turned his expression as serious as it possibly could, and dropped his voice to a firm tone. "However, I request that no one tries to make afterlife miserable for anyone else. If you do, I will have to intervene."

A few disappointed murmurs rose up here and there, but each one fell silent when Arthur turned a stern gaze in the sound's direction. Even with them, the general reception to his speech still seemed much better than the one he had gotten after proclaiming himself King of Camelot. No disbelieving scoffs, no actual angry faces, and no challenges for the crown… just a sea of hopeful gazes so intense it almost made him dizzy.

"I shall be available whenever you need me," he went on, speaking in his calmer tone again. "Anyone interested in doing so can talk to me right now, and for those who aren't ready to do so yet, I am residing in the Sorcerer's Mansion for the time being."

A few people took a step forward on the spot, but froze there, as if thinking he had more to say.

"That is all for now. Thank you for listening."

Saying so, he disengaged the spell he had cast, in case anyone wanted to talk to him right now. An old lady with her face covered in wrinkles and a heavyset middle-aged man with a hairless head leaned slightly forward as if they were ready to do just that.

But then, everyone but himself shook in fright as another voice blared through the area without the assistance of any spell.

"Is that all, darling? Well then, now you're going to hear my piece."

As the voice spoke up, the crowd on the street to his left parted faster than a block of butter cut with a hot knife, and two women he was already familiar with made their way toward him. The only difference was that now, he could see the magic clinging to them in unpleasant bitter-looking clouds that had him fighting back the urge to grimace.

"Clear the path, worms!" the one with white and black hair snarled. "Your true rulers are coming through!"

More than clearing a path, most of them fled like rabbits. Some stray brave souls stayed relatively near to see what would ensue, but to Arthur's relief, even the closest ones he could see were over sixty feet away. Unless either of these witches could unleash something really strong, they wouldn't be hurt.

"How can I help you, ladies?" Arthur asked in his best polite voice.

The blind witch made a noise of mock-consideration, and then replied, "I would say 'By dropping dead.', but seeing as we're all dead here, I'll say instead 'By jumping into the River of Lost Souls.'."

Arthur gave her a thin smile, even though he knew she couldn't see it.

"Duly noted, but I'm afraid I can't do that. I intend to repair the Underworld, and I can't do it under that water."

The blind woman shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"Worth a shot," she somehow both breathed and screeched.

The other woman snorted, her heavily made up eyes like two black patches on her face.

"Do you really think we'll just let you stroll in here and ruin a nice eternity of causing pain to anyone that isn't us?" she asked, a playful smirk on her face.

Arthur took a step forward, his own eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't think that. But I'm afraid I don't need your permission."

The white-haired woman's eyes narrowed even further.

"You don't need it, you say? Think again. You need it. And we're not giving it to you."

Arthur braced himself for anything she might throw at him. Instead of attacking him however, she turned to the blind one and said, "Darling, paste him."

The woman grinned like a well-fed cat and threw a wave of magic at him. Arthur raised his hand, wreathed in protective magic of its own, and the spell the witch had thrown at him bounced back where it came from and knocked the blind woman onto her rear with a loud thud and a surprised gasp.

"What are you doing?" the other woman protested. "I told you to paste him!"

"I tried!" the blind woman whimpered as she stood up, her face contorted in pain. "He just threw my magic back at me!"

The other woman's eyes briefly widened. Then her face melted into a snarl.

"Then forget pasting him. Just drop him in that blasted green drink!"

Still as wobbly as a reed under a storm, the woman reached forward with her magic.

Alarm flared up within him.

He shot his hand out again and dispelled the magic like a sledgehammer shattering glass. The witch's spell exploded with such force that she fell forward with a startled gasp like a circus artist doing a pratfall.

"What?" her fur-clad companion snapped. "You can't do that either?"

"He doesn't let me! He just crushed my spell like a bug!"

The woman with black and white hair looked back at him, her already large eyes suddenly twice bigger, and especially unsettling in her gaunt face.

"You couldn't do that when you arrived…" she murmured.

Arthur blinked in surprise. Given the woman's nature, he hadn't thought she would be even capable of doing such a thing.

"I couldn't," he replied. "As I said during my speech, I was blessed with certain gifts recently." He made it a point to pause and give them a stern glare. "And I see now more than ever that they were needed."

The blind woman's usually empty expression twisted into a scowl. The one in the fur coat bared her teeth like an angry dog and growled. "Speak for yourself!"

"That's exactly what I'm doing." Arthur replied with a pleasant nod. But his stern glare only intensified as he added, "And in case you also missed that part of my speech, let me remind you of something else: I will not mind you either coming to me for help in moving on or you simply staying out of my way. But I will not allow you to make other people miserable."

Both women bared their teeth at him like furious bears, but his display must have startled them a great deal, because they didn't utter a peep.

"I've said my peace. Now if you'll excuse me I have a damage survey to undertake."

Before they could tell him whether they excused him or not, he turned left and walked away, making it a point to not look back toward them as he began a more detailed tour of the Underworld, to see how much damage he had to repair.

He didn't even take ten steps before the cheering began.

"ALL HAIL KING ARTHUR! ALL HAIL KING ARTHUR!"

Both Cruella and the Blind Witch kept grimacing like they were about to throw up as the screams continued. They were no longer as loud as before, simply because those uttering them were already farther away, but they could still be heard, and Cruella kept clenching her teeth as they continued.

"There goes your plan," the Blind Witch said once the cheers had finally faded, her high-pitched voice even more grating in its disappointed tone.

Cruella snorted in reply. "I didn't exactly hear you coming up with anything better, darling. Or dealing with him while he was here."

"Don't you have hands and feet?" the Blind Witch complained. "Next time, lend some help rather than complain."

"Instead of arguing, let's come up with some other way to deal with this interloping peacock, alright, darling?"

The Blind Witch narrowed her eyes, but at least this time she didn't complain.

"Alright then," she at last said. "Any Plan B?"

Cruella gave no verbal reply, but the slow sinister grin spreading across her face spoke for herself, even if the Blind Witch could not see it.

Stealthy, however, could. And as he saw it, he realized how good an idea it had been to follow them.

He only hoped he could actually help once they put their plan into action.

This is what I meant regarding the prompts not being fully borne out yet. The next oneshot will see their conclusion.

I hope you enjoyed thie oneshot, and once more, I welcome any prompts you might have.

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat fic #ouat king arthur #fic about arthur running the underworld

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 4 years ago

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Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part III)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I and Part II, here’s Part III.

CLAIM 5 #: Merlin thinks fighting is meaningless violence

Merlin certainly claimed it-- but his actions told a different story.

It took me a long time to understand that Merlin was in fact very similar to Arthur. This realisation came while rewatching episodes 5x03 and 5x04 in particular; in the latter episode, Merlin admitted to Arthur that if someone had murdered his father, he would probably have sought vengeance. Yet we know that Merlin hated vengeance, and that he had physically intervened to stop Arthur from yielding to said vengeance.

This led me to see how Arthur and Merlin’s friendship became a coping mechanism to deal with the loss of their respective family (literally and figuratively).

One key way that Merlin is similar to Arthur is that he, too, pretends not to like something in public, while his actions speak differently.

Hence why Merlin loved claiming that fighting was pointless, that it was just “sweaty men knocking the sense out of each other” (episode 4x09), and appeared not to enjoy training sessions. Episode 1x02 had a hilarious and undoubtedly genuine example of Merlin abhorring the art of war, as he struggled to hold his weaponry, tripped, tumbled, and probably ended up with tinnitus! “D’you you hear clanging?”

I used to think this change occurred much later, but episode 1x02 showed Merlin eagerly watching the tournament just one day after he complained about having to learn more fighting techniques and about being Arthur’s servant.

Also, after being pilloried for being clumsy with Arthur’s armour, the first thing Merlin did was to seek Gwen’s assistance. Look how proud he was later, when he put everything on correctly. “That was much better,” Arthur said, to which Merlin responded, “I’m a fast learner.”

This suggests that, being a resourceful person who lands on his feet, Merlin quickly realised that he would have to learn about warfare if he was to make his way in Camelot.

I already have a lengthy post proving that Merlin had excellent capabilities in battle, and that Arthur had potentially trained him better than his knights. See the link below this post.

However, the greatest evidence that Merlin respected the art of war was his insistence that Arthur stand up and fight to reclaim Camelot. This occurred chiefly in episode 3x13, when Arthur was discouraged by Morgana’s treachery, and in episode 4x13, when Arthur completely lost hope and abdicated the throne.

In both episodes, Merlin helped take back Camelot not only using magic, but also with the sword. Notice that in episode 3x13, Sir Lancelot never questioned Merlin’s ability with a sword. Instead, he was impressed by its powers. As far as Lancelot was concerned, Merlin was “the one Arthur should knight. You’re the bravest of us all and he doesn’t even know it.” So Lancelot knew that Merlin was a capable fighter, and would embody the noble warrior so admired in Camelot.

Ironically, Lancelot did not live to see Merlin dressed as a knight in 4x05 during the mission to trap King Caerleon.

Of course, we have an example from Merlin’s own mouth: “You’re a great warrior,” he said to Arthur in episode 1x13. In episode 3x01, he was impressed by Arthur fighting blindfolded against two opponents, though he quickly tried pretending that he had “seen better”. In episode 3x04, he laughed at Dagr’s threats against Arthur: “I’d like to see you try!” Then he tried persuading Gwaine to stay in Camelot on the basis that, “You and Arthur: you fought well together.” During that episode, Merlin was impressed by Gwaine’s fighting before and during the mêlée.

In episode 5x05, he watched Arthur duelling against Mordred unarmed, then stood up to applaud the king. We can safely assume this occurred many times, since Merlin attends all training sessions and is responsible for maintaining all of Arthur’s armour. Many scenes, such as in episodes 4x05, 4x09, and 5x03, show him either polishing or putting on Arthur’s armour.

So why all of Merlin’s dismissive comments? For one thing, he didn’t like the braggadocio and arrogance of many knights-- or those who would wish to be knights. Hence why he called Valiant a “creep” in episode 1x02, much to Arthur’s amusement. Secondly, he did not see the point of certain tournaments, such as that of episode 3x11. It didn’t help that Arthur said, “The only rule is: there are no rules.” Thirdly, the death toll alarmed him. “Cause last time this tournament was held, three men died... That was just on the first day.” (Also episode 3x11.)

Another reason that hit me while rereading this: Merlin wasn’t naturally good at fighting. Remember that Arthur said, “I’ve been trained to kill since birth.” (Episode 1x01) This suggests some natural talent on his part, though greatly improved with hard work. Meanwhile, Merlin not only fumbled with weaponry, but faced merciless teasing from Arthur about his lack of skill. To compensate for his feelings of incompetence, Merlin linked Arthur’s fighting prowess to his arrogance: “How long have you been training to be a prat?” (Episode 1x01)

While he had a good point, it was also a way to dismiss his inexperience with fighting and other facts of life. We have to remember that he came from a tiny, poor village. Camelot could have been another planet.

Despite all this, when it came to watching Arthur train, watching Arthur train his knights, and, most importantly, fighting to defend Camelot, Merlin had nothing but respect for the art of war.

CLAIM #6: Arthur (mostly/always) needed Merlin to make big decisions

Untrue, as the following examples will demonstrate.

By the way, Merlin helped fuel this idea that his decisions were necessary for Arthur’s rule. In episode 4x11, he asked Gaius whether he should do anything to cause Arthur and Gwen’s reconciliation. Gaius rightly asked, “You don’t think that’s a little arrogant?”

In episode 3x07, Arthur decided to rescue Gwen’s brother-- a complete stranger-- from the Castle of Fyrien. Just one episode later, he succeeded at the majority of his quest in the Perilous Lands despite being enchanted to lose his energy. Needless to say, the choice of retrieving the trident of the Fisher King was Arthur’s alone, made after a night of contemplation.

Another great example comes from episode 4x05, where Arthur repented of his wrongdoing to Caerleon and his kingdom, and refused to make his men risk their lives on his account. He then took matters into his own hands, pleading with Queen Annis to invoke the right of single combat.

In episode 4x06, Arthur only told a few people that he was riding through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin wasn’t one of those people, hence why he said, “Arthur. You are not serious...Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Nobody in their right mind would go in there.”

How come Merlin didn’t know? Arthur said, “The routes are secret, Merlin: that’s why *we* chose it.” Emphasis my own. Later, we discover that Arthur had discussed this with his council, a select number of knights, and Agravaine.

My favourite example comes from episode 4x11. Arthur negotiated with a longstanding rival, Nemeth, over the status of the lands of Gedref. We cannot underestimate that achievement. Arthur said that the lands have “long been in dispute”, and when he announced the end of their negotiations, the knights looked extremely nervous. Arthur had to allay their fears by calling it a “fair and honourable agreement”. That may have been a polite way of saying that they had avoided humiliating sacrifices and war.

On top of that, Arthur sealed the treaty by securing an engagement to the Princess of Nemeth-- exactly the kind of political savvy that his father had encouraged. “Your marriage should have been used to form an alliance with another kingdom…” (Episode 5x03.)

The first thing Merlin said was, “How come I didn’t know any of this? How come you didn’t say anything?” I will not go into why Merlin’s reaction here was presumptuous and arrogant, but we can see that Arthur deliberately kept this information from Merlin to avoid disagreement and argument.

Of course, the great episodes 5x01 and 5x02 show Arthur risking everything to save his men “or die trying”, because to do otherwise would be to sacrifice his beliefs. In episode 5x04, Arthur decided to rescue King Rodor from King Odin, in spite of the immense danger and the holes in Princess Mithian’s story. In episode 5x05, he decided to beg the Disir for Mordred’s life, because he did not want another innocent man dying on his behalf.

And so on.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART IV