A Warlocks' Disguise {ArthurxFem!Merlin}

Chapter 23 - Merilyn

The next day, the atmosphere in the council chambers was thick with tension, almost suffocating. The once grand room felt smaller, its high ceilings and stone walls echoing the low murmur of voices as court officials exchanged worried glances. Every breath felt heavier, weighed down by the unseen threat looming over Camelot. Merilyn stood beside Gaius, her hands clasped tightly at her sides, listening intently as Arthur and Uther argued about the spreading illness. Though her face remained composed, inside, her thoughts whirled in a storm of anxiety and guilt. The previous night's reckless decision to use magic weighed heavily on her, and she fought to maintain her composure under the scrutinizing gaze of the royal family.

Arthur, his usual air of confidence strained, reached for the glass vial that sat ominously on Gaius's workbench. Inside, the tainted water swirled, its clarity distorted by the wilted flower they had placed in it to detect traces of the plague.

"Don't touch it," Gaius snapped, his voice sharper than usual, cutting through the uneasy quiet. His eyes flickered with barely concealed frustration, and the lines on his face deepened with worry. "I had it in the water for no more than a few hours, and look at the result."

Arthur froze, his hand hovering just above the vial before he slowly drew it back, his jaw tightening in frustration. Uther, standing tall and rigid near the throne, glared at the vial as though it might hold all the answers they were so desperately seeking. His shoulders were tense, and the familiar fire of anger smoldered in his eyes, growing more intense with each passing second.

"Where's the water from?" Uther demanded, his voice low but edged with the desperation of a king watching his kingdom crumble around him.

"The pump," Gaius replied, his tone careful yet firm. "Where the people gather their daily supply of water."

Arthur's brow furrowed deeply as he cast another glance at the vial, the implications sinking in. "We have to stop the people from using it," he said, his voice flat with the weight of the decision. But there was an urgency there too, a need to act swiftly before the situation spiraled further out of control.

Gaius, though clearly troubled, shook his head. "The city cannot survive without water," he reminded them, his words punctuated by the quiet crackle of the fire in the hearth. "Stopping the flow would cause more panic, and it won't solve the root of the problem."

Uther's pacing grew more frantic, his boots clapping sharply against the stone floor with each step. His frustration was palpable, an aura of barely contained rage radiating from him. The king of Camelot, always so sure, was faced with an enemy he could not see or strike down with a sword. His fists clenched at his sides as he turned to Arthur, his voice rising in desperation. "We have to find this sorcerer!"

Arthur's jaw set, his frustration mirroring his father's. His hands flexed as though longing to grip a weapon, something tangible he could fight. "I don't believe they're inside Camelot," he said, his voice thick with certainty, but his face betrayed the doubt creeping into his thoughts. He had scoured the city with his guards, questioned townspeople, searched homes. Still, there was no trace of the dark magic that had unleashed this plague.

Uther's temper flared. "Then extend the search to the villages!" he barked, his gaze hard and unyielding, eyes flashing with the fury of a ruler who felt powerless.

Arthur let out a slow, measured breath, knowing the impossibility of the task but unwilling to contradict his father. "We've started," he admitted, though the exhaustion was clear in his voice. "But I can't search the entire kingdom."

Uther's face contorted in a mix of frustration and helplessness. "And I can't stand by and watch our people die," he growled, his voice trembling with emotion. The room fell into a tense silence, the reality of the situation crashing down on them like a tidal wave.